Tag: father

The Original “Participation Trophy Winners”…and Losers

My children go to a Catholic school. They have a huge auction every year.  It’s the biggest fundraiser the school does. My kids are able to go to this school only because of the amount of tuition help we receive (shout out to all those who have helped over the years). Because of this, I feel that I need to make sure to volunteer for the auction in some capacity.

A couple years ago I was super involved with the auction. I helped with the decorating, spent most of my spring break there, and worked the auction itself, both nights. This was the first time since my kids started at the school, that I felt included. I felt like I finally had mom friends. I felt like an asset to the school. I felt like my kids could be proud of their mom being there and being involved. Then, a well-meaning mother said something that snapped me back into the reality of how I’m seen by those at that school.

“You know, I decided this year I was going to give you a chance. I mean it’s not really fair that (Genevieve’s dad) is made out to be such a stand up guy, and your painted to be this homewrecker. I’m really glad I gave you a chance!” 

I smiled and politely said thank you. I could feel my face become flush and my blood pressure rise. I could feel my hands start to shake and could feel the quiver in my voice. I was the homewrecker. We both did the same thing. But I was the homewrecker. His home was still intact. He still had his wife and his children. But I’m the homewrecker. He still got to take his trips and vacations and still got to be accepted by all the parents at the school. But I was the homewrecker. I had sole responsibility of her for over 2 years with no financial help, emotional help, or even a smiling face to treat me kindly there. But I was the homewrecker.  My home was the home that was wrecked, but I was the honewrecker, and he’s a stand-up guy.

If you don’t know the situation with my third child, I will explain it in simple terms. Her dad and I both cheated. Neither of us have any desire or intention to be with the other. It was a night of too much alcohol and terrible decisions. Neither of us have ever tried to dismiss it as an okay act. Everybody involved in the situation agrees it was wrong. People were hurt. Lives were changed.  But, we took a potentially dramatic experience and kept it very drama-free. Our daughter has a great relationship with both families. She loves her dad and she loves her step-mom. This blog is not a blog to bash her father, or to try to justify something as hurtful as infidelity.

So just to restate, cheating is always wrong. Our daughter is loved and taken care of. We do not condone what happened but we do not dwell on it.

I know the people in my life are aware of what I went through those first few years after she was born. I was treated terribly. My kid’s school, the church, and anybody else that knew the situation and very strong opinions of me and who I was. I don’t know if you know this, but if you do something severely wrong, and there’s a consequence, you don’t get to explain yourself. I realized very quickly that if I try to explain myself, it sounded like I was trying to defend infidelity, which I most certainly was not. So, I just had to take it. I had to let people think awful things about me. I had to let them say awful things. I had to let them exclude my children from things because they didn’t like me. I had to pretend I didn’t notice and pretend like it didn’t hurt my feelings. For years. 

But this mom was going to give me a chance. She decided. It took years, but something sparked in her mind that I could possibly be a good person. That MAYBE this one thing I did years ago, didn’t define who I was as a person. She literally verbalized what, I’m sure, many had felt and thought. He and I had done the same thing. We both were unfaithful. We both hurt people we loved. And, we both we’re honest and humbled by this awful thing we did. Neither of us try to excuse it. But his actions were much easier to forgive. I, as the woman, deserved the hurt and pain as additional consequences. 

It was a sobering realization that I will never be able to be one of those parents. The ones that are super involved at the school. I have had a lot less involvement since that year. I can’t, and wouldn’t want to, force anyone to accept me or my children. It is what it is. 

Let’s fast-forward a few years. I have a 1 year old. I am not with his father. I am Unapologetic about this situation. The pregnancy took us both by surprise. It was not ideal, but there was no betrayal or hurt involved. We both were consenting adults. We co-parent well together. Harrison is thriving and we have a very good situation. His father and I had had many conversations about our ultimate goal with Harrison. I’m a firm believer that (as long as it is a healthy situation for the child) the ultimate goal should be that both parents should be involved equally. Eventually, I hope that Harrison will be able to spend equal amounts of time with each of us.

This last weekend his dad and I got into a slight argument. There was a miscommunication about drop-offs. He was upset because of how inconvenient it was. It messed up his plans for the day and he felt I was being inconsiderate. At first I felt bad. I should have confirmed the time, I should have texted, I should have been better at communicating. Then I got mad. Wait a minute. Everything I do in life, I plan as if I had my children with me. I let him have Harrison anytime he would like, but also don’t force him to have him when it’s inconvenient for him. If I pick up work, I also have to pick up the bill for the babysitter. If I want to go out, I have to ask if it’s ok with him, or I have to pay for a babysitter. He is allowed his work week, his social time, his hobby time, and also his cleaning and laundry day without the inconvenience of a toddler. 

Now I would like to point out that he is a great father. Harrison loves to be with him and he loves to see his son. He doesn’t babysit, he parents. There is a difference. I honestly believe this. And like I said, eventually Harrison will be spending half his time with both of us. But the reality is, right now I have the brunt of the responsibility. That’s part of having an infant and/or toddler.

“He’s such a great dad! He’s SO involved with him!” 

Cringe. Here’s the problem. He most definitely is a great dad. He would never let Harrison lack. I know if I need ANYTHING, I can ask.  But there’s this double standard with parents that drives me absolutely bezerk. He spends 15 to 20 hours with him a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But always at his convenience. If he has anything planned, he can just do it. I am the one who figures out a babysitter if he can’t be with with his dad. Or I have to cancel what I have planned. 

The reality of having a baby or a toddler is, that the mother is going to get the brunt of the responsibility. I know this. I know it’s temporary. I’m not expecting more from his dad. (except maybe having a little more understanding or compassion when things don’t go as planned). Like I said, I feel like we have a good thing going right now. And we have great goals in mind for Harrison. Eventually these days of chaos will be nothing but a memory. 

There is a double standard that I’ve had to deal with the entire 12 years of being a mother. We have such low expectations for fathers. And we have almost unreasonably high expectations for the mothers. I’m a damn good mother. I’m not a great housekeeper, I’m a little flighty, I talk a lot, I have no volume control of my voice, and I’m easily distracted. But I am a great mother. And if I decide I want to go out for drinks with the girls, or to a movie, or to a hair show in Chicago, or be in a play, it does not take away from my ability as a mother. 

If you’re at a father, think about what this mother must be going through. Appreciate her. Acknowledging what the mother has sacrificed and what her reality is, is one of the best ways to show her you appreciate her. It may be temporary, but she has been sacrificing her body, her sleep, her social life, her dating life, her time, and sometimes her sanity. It is an investment into your child. Thank her for that.

Family and friends. Keep your bashing to yourself. I have had people say nasty things about my children’s fathers. And I know nasty things have been said about me to them. You are hurting our children with your words even if they don’t hear them. If I decide to go to a movie with friends, don’t say to his dad “Doesn’t that bother you that she’d rather go out and be with her son?” Or “Poor baby just misses his mommy! She’s away too much!” Would you say to the father, “What do you mean you’re going golfing? Shouldn’t you be with your son?” No? Of course not. Because being a parent doesn’t mean you can’t also be social. Quit with the double standard. I did the math. I have my son 81% of the time. His father has him 7% of the time. The play that I’m in has brought me down to 74% of the time and his father up to 12% of the time. Just to give you a visual in case you’re still not understanding how involved with my children I am, even when I’m in a play.

Do not suggest and I’m a neglectful mother. Do not try to turn my children’s fathers against me. We maintain an open line of communication and if your words are not encouraging, keep them to yourself.

Now, everyone else. Acquaintances, passerbuys, etc. Try to notice the double standard. We all do it. We shame the mother, but then see the father as a saint for literally just being there. We need to stop doing this. We don’t need to bash the father, but we need to acknowledge how much more of a hardship the mother has for those first few years. 

I was hesitant to write this blog. Because I am very thankful for the co parenting I have going on in my life. And I don’t want people to see these men negatively. But I have been hurt through the years by this. 

I know there are other women out there who notice this as well, but can’t quite articulate what they’re feeling. These women worry that they will seem ungrateful or whiny if they voice how under-appreciated they are. If they stand up for themselves they seem demanding and rude. We are told we should be thankful, no matter how little the father gives in the way of help, and that this is what having a kid is, so we need to just accept it. 

I will accept that the responsibility of a child is not always equal. And that’s ok.

I will accept that eventually it will be more even. The burden will lighten.

I will accept that socially we are making huge strides in the way of fathers involvement. This has been wonderful for the mothers, the fathers, and the children involved.

I will NOT accept this double standard. 

I will NOT accept the implications of laziness or neglect that is given to mothers who need a break and ask for it. 

I will NOT accept the shame and guilt handed to me for having a child out of wedlock.

I will NOT accept the expectation of gratitude for the father doing something that every parent should do.  It is not my job to cater to the fragile male ego.

I will love my kids. I will continue to put them first. I will continue to work with their dads for what is best for them. And I will tell you to kiss my ass if you feed this double standard around me. 

Doug Stutz Wouldn’t Regret Stuff, So You Shouldn’t Either

Very unexpectedly, my step father passed on November 23. He was 55 years old, and had a day of Christmas decorating and grandchildren planned. He was at the store, had a heart attack, and was gone. Just like that. Ripped from our lives.

I was very close to him. I called him Dad, and I’ve been his baby girl since I can remember. We talked almost every day, and saw each other multiple times a week. These last 12 days have felt like the longest days of my life.

So, I’ve been wanting to write about him. Memories flooding my mind. Writing about him seems impossible. I can’t put him in words. When I try, I find myself frustrated with the lack of depth in my writing. My vocabulary feels so limited in describing him. So I end up with just the simplistic, “this fucking sucks” or “it’s not fair”. I cannot articulate him or my feelings in the fullest sense, so I just resort to the most basic. I am sad. I miss him. He was a great dad. So that’s all you guys get from me right now.

I decided instead of trying to come up with some thought provoking, emotionally touching, in depth post, I would instead focus on grief. Because, well, it is a very real thing for me right now.

Sitting on my bed, sobbing like a child, my fiancé, Ryan, held me and kissed my head. “It’s just not fair!” I managed to get out. “He would be so mad at himself right now.” Ryan’s response was a simple, “You’re right. It’s not fair. He is still needed. We all still need him. And we need to remember him, the good and the bad. Because that’s what makes him him. If we just remember the good, he is a myth of a man.”

So I focused on trying to remember some bad stuff. We, as humans, tend to forget the bad stuff when someone dies. And I wanted to remember my Daddy as he was exactly. I didn’t want to lose any part of him. Have you ever done this? Try to remember the bad stuff after someone dies? It is way harder than you think. Why? Because those quirks and irritations seem so insignificant after the person is gone.

My Dad was kind of a stubborn man. He was very punctual, my tardiness and flighty ways drove him nuts. He was also easily irritated by the chaos of all the small children. I can here him saying “Don’t forget the bag of your kids stuff!” And “When will you be here? I have things to do today.” He was a very patient man, but I have a unique talent of pushing even the most easy going person to their limit. So, I discounted these memories, since his “negatives” were actually provoked by some of my flaws.

The I remembered a time he got snappy with me, unprovoked. He was stressed about work, tired, and worried about bills. I asked him something, and he snapped and yelled at me. It actually made me cry, mostly out of shock and a little embarrassment. But, he did come to me later and give me a big hug and apologize. He told me he loved me and the girls, and told me he would always help and be there for me. So I don’t know if that would even count as a negative. Since he did talk to me about it. I mean we’re all human.

BAM. There it is. Remembering the bad, had actually opened me to noticing even more of the good. It allowed me to see him as human. One that had flaws, but loved above all. One that forgave my quirks and even just downright rudeness. He was someone I forgave without hesitation. We were able to be our human selves with each other. We didn’t have to act, or hold back. Good day, bad day, or just a boring day, we experienced life as it was in the moment.

After these thoughts, I realized I didn’t have regret. I kept wanting to grasp onto something I would have done differently. Something to say, do, or whatever. Why was I LOOKING for regret? Regret is an awful thing! Why? Because I am hurting so bad. To the core of myself. And I need something to blame. There was absolutely nothing I would have done differently. How many people can say that about someone? Yet, it doesn’t seem to ease the pain knowing that. It actually makes it even more painful, because I know how rare it is to find someone like this.

For all those who are grieving. Those of you out there feeling you could have done something differently, or told them something. I am here to tell you, you’re holding on to regret as a defense against the shitty reality that sometimes, life just sucks. We have very little control of so much that happens. So it’s ok to let go of the regrets (that we are seeking out and clinging to) and just be sad. Our anger doesn’t need to be directed at ourselves. This doesn’t help our grief. I can honestly say, for those who play the “if only I just…” game, nothing you could have said or done would change the way you feel now.

I told my dad I loved him and thanked him for his help with my kids the day before he passed. What if I would have yelled at him the last time I saw him instead? I would most likely cling to that and be mad at myself. In reality though, that should be a fine last conversation as well, because that’s what life is! Happiness, sadness, anger, all of it. He was someone I experienced all of this with, and knew at the end of the day, he loved his family, his Lord, his work, and his friends.

All that being said, I am sad. This isn’t fair. It sucks.