So when do my feelings count?  I think most of the time I have to accept that kids may not respect my feelings and hope that one day they will. In the meantime, it’s just me.

After 8 years of divorce and putting up with the antics of an ex and my kids’ stepfather, I’m getting used to swallowing the pain. Expecting it. Every time an event occurs, or there is an opportunity for failure, I brace myself, take the blows and move on.

Now that Timothy doesn’t want to come over (the reasons will either come up later, or not – I don’t ask Ex about it because she probably won’t tell me the truth anyhow) i leave things up to him. Now visits can be negotiated without the two big people in the house, and I can deal with my kids directly.

FINALLY!

He’s now in a self guided high school that he can take as fast or slow as he wants. He just completed a period of work experience (apparently they PAY work experience now… back in MY day etc.)  and is heading in the direction of his dreams, to become a writer.

He’s a great kid! You should meet him!

Today Timothy let me know (via his mother) that he didn’t want to come over either. And I thought he wanted to be stuck in his room, playing X Box every waking minute. Whenever I went to his room to talk, he wasn’t interested in anything else. What do I know.

Indeed. What do I know. In 1990, when Jon was born, I realised how little I knew. Zip. About being a father, less than nothing. How come my Dad seemed to know so much?

And now, every year, I know less. More surprises, more melted expectations, more space, more drifting. Where is my life going? Do I have one? Did I trade Me in for Dad?

I’m so torn between being Distant Dad,  Money Lending Dad,  Stepdad and Resident Dad, I don’t know how to keep them altogether inside one head. Then there’s Husband, who seems to be more like My Son’s Stepdad at times.

I would just like to be able to maintain some consistency, to always know which hat I’m wearing, or to be able to trade them all in for one multipurpose cap. I wonder what that would look like. Perhaps it would have to be more like a bearskin, like the Buckingham Palace guards where. There would be lots of space in there. Lots of space.

One trait of mine that I don’t like is that when I get depressed I just want to sleep and sleep. Right now I could hibernate. Wake up in the spring.

I just don’t know which spring.

Ain’t that a great way to cheer up a reader and invite them in to read more?! Well, as an update to the last entry, things have been up and down. I guess that’s the norm, really.

So, after depositing the correct amount for child support, I got a text message saying I needed to go to a mediation meeting. That was about three weeks ago now. The lawyer present, who was supposed to be non-partisan, started grilling me about my low income. I work at home and manage to write off a lot, which makes my declared income very low. I don’t make that much anyway, so I’m not scamming anyone. I don’t take cash for any job, everything is above board. One hundred percent. But obviously it didn’t look that way. I didn’t take the pounding lightly, lost my cool, and left. That isn’t what the meeting was supposed to be about. X then told me she would see me in court.

The letter announcing my court date never came. Instead I got a stream of text messages stating how she (X) wanted to stop fighting and just wanted the kids looked after. Of course, same here! I kept it blunt, asked for receipts, and left it at that.

I’m learning that to keep everything on the level, and to stop the violent swings, it is much easier to keep everything chilled and businesslike. I get receipts, I pay. No text messages about ‘feelings’, no jumping off the handle, nothing personal, just the fact, ma’am, just the facts.

I like it this way. It makes my home life simpler and quieter (I detest talking about the X crap in the house, it creates a stench in the air). It leaves me to be a Dad instead of an ex-husband, because really that hasn’t changed. I’m still a Dad. I have been for sixteen years and will be for the rest of my life. But instead of being an ex-husband, I am now a  husband. My wife’s husband. This is what I am currently. Being an ex, seeing myself as one (and seeing X as one, come to that) is talking in the past.

From now on, X will be referred to as D. No more exes!

My wife has been out of town, so it’s really quiet! I’m keeping myself really busy fixing stuff and working. I have a lot of work to do- basically I could quit sleeping and almost catch up. But being busy keeps my mind busy and not pondering and wondering and wandering. That’s a good thing. Ask my doctor.

I got the fence started today – I’m rebuilding it. We’ve been here about 2 1/2 years, and the fence it in pretty rough shape. Rotten timber, patched with screws and nails. I actually enjoy stuff like that, working with my hands. It’s not creative, but I have to make certain decisions and use the skills I have (!) to make it look good. My dad taught me well. Besides, who doesn’t need an excuse to go to the hardware store?

Work tomorrow. At least I love my job

I’m dreading Friday. I’m really going to miss having him around.

For the last seven years, I’ve tried to get used to dropping the kids off at their Mom’s house at the end of a visit. I can’t. Seven years and it’s still as much as I can do to fight back the tears.

I usually turn up the radio and sing loud.

I sing really loud…

There’s nothing like money to really get on X’s nerves! So I knew, when I walked out of the bank after making the deposit, that something was going to hit the fan.

The next day, I got an email listing a number of dreamed up (and inflated) expenses. I demanded receipts (which my lawyer said was my right) so a following email informed me of a meeting with a Mediation Service to discuss me paying more. Ain’t gonna happen! Ok, I’ll be at the meeting, but only to hand over my pathetically small income tax report. I’m actually earning $12k pa LESS than the year before the divorce, so an increase in payments is pretty unlikely. X better bring a spare pair of pants.
Oh yes, and she also booked another meeting to discuss John’s housing arrangements. This means ‘making Number1Dad do what I want’. Being a praying man, I decided to pray about this. The stress was getting to me. At work, my boss told me I wasn’t the same old person who joked all the time. At home, I’d become a bear. Grr. I had to deal with the load somehow. So I prayed that God would silence those coming against me, that he would see that my intentions are honest, and I’m not trying to rip off anyone. Within a few days, I got a call from the mediation service saying that X had cancelled the housing meeting. No reason, just cancelled. Wow. Thank you God!

You see, I have a list of reasons Jon can’t live with me. I love him to bits, but I’m not willing to submit my family to his anger and violence. He needs to deal with his relationship with his Mom, which I have been telling him for years. I have always enforced that, no matter what I think of her. And Jon doesn’t want to be here – he’s made that quite clear by his absence over the last number of months. So why would I make him more miserable and force him to live here? For my sake? X’s sake? No, it’s ALL ABOUT THE KIDS NOW! So for Jon’s sake, he lives where he lives. I’m not crazy about that, but it’s the best of a bad situation.

I talked to Jon a few weeks ago about why he doesn’t want to live with his Mum. He gave me three reasons:

1. Small Town is a dump.
2. All his friends live in City
3. He hates MrX

Fair enough, I said! If my stepdad punched me in the stomach and hurt me to the point where Mom had to consider calling the cops (but didn’t) I don’t think I’d be his best pal either. So where are Jon’s needs being considered when the parents are fighting about where he should live? How is his life being looked after when X chooses to live with MrX despite his history of violence and abuse?

I hope this blog doesn’t look like I’m defending myself anonymously. Really, I don’t need an online presence to make myself feel good!

Things with Jon seem to be ok. Ok means quiet and without event, but at least he’ll IM me. He got his phone cutoff again due to a big bill, so texting is out of the question. I have no idea why X lets him have a phone he can’t pay for, but like I’m always saying, I don’t care what X does, as long as the children are safe and loved. In fact, that has become my mantra of late. Too many conversations have revolved (yes, how revolting…) around X’s pedantic antics and I’m tired of her getting all the ‘press’. So in order to keep my mind clear and my outlook healthy, I just ignore it, stop discussing it ad nauseum and talk/think positive.

It’s about THE KIDS. No one else.

I’m trying to keep these posts about the feelings and coping strategies, and not a long reiteration of soap opera proportions, so don’t worry if you feel like you’re missing out on ‘what happened next’. I’d rather discuss how I actually cope – or don’t.