Détente: May 2009

Last week was Simone’s “student-led” parent conference at school. It’s a great concept. The third graders gather up a stack of prescribed examples of their work at their desks, and then have a checklist of things to show their parents. Simone did a great job of showing us some of her fiction (Viva Piñata fanfic that’s running 67 pages at last count), sharing the novel she’s reading, and taking us through her latest math assignments.

When she got to science, she mentioned a project that referenced the children’s book by Demi, “The Empty Pot.” It’s actually a favorite of mine from my grad school days. In fact, Simone’s mom and I worked on a project during grad school together, before we were dating (I wasn’t available at the time), and we used that very book. In fact, you could almost say that book was, in some ways, responsible for our finding our way to each other.

At that moment, though, Simone was sitting between her mother and me at her desk. We were both hunched in kid-size plastic chairs, flanking our little girl, taking turns asking her questions and making comments about her work, and occasionally trading looks, raised eyebrows and all, when she’d say something funny or brilliant.

So when Simone mentioned the book, I thought I hadn’t heard her correctly.

“‘The Empty Pot’?” I blurted out. “By Demi?”

Both she and her mom said “yes,” and her mom looked over Simone’s head at me. We smiled at each other. Probably the first real smile we’ve shared that wasn’t directly related to something Simone said or did in more than six years. It was the briefest recognition of the history we’d both abandoned, and it came and went so quickly that Simone had no idea it happened. It was the briefest moment of magic.

It didn’t change anything, but it did serve as an indicator that we’ve found ourselves in a better place.

The three of us have travelled a tumultuous road; not as full of ire and cruelty as some divorces I’ve seen, and certainly civil 92% of the time, but we’ve had some very ugly moments between us. Early on, I had my outbursts of frustration and disgust, but I learned fairly quickly (I think, I hope, though you’d have to ask Simone’s mom) to take a deep breath and let go. We realized that our best bet was to communicate the important stuff via email, in order to put some space between us.

The worst times, though, seemed to be during major transitions in Simone’s mother’s life—in the months before she remarried, and when she was early in her pregnancy. During those times, which, coincidentally happened to be when Simone had teachers who truly didn’t get her, and who weren’t particularly nurturing, Simone became a major behavioral problem at school; acting out, and exploding into spectacular meltdowns that left everyone shaken.

Her mother’s first instinct was to blame these changes in Simone’s ability to cope on me. She honestly believed I was harming our child, and she would take initial steps (in mediation) to change the custody arrangements from the 50/50 we’d agreed to. During those times, she’d treat me with such contempt that Simone was afraid to mention my name in her presence, even though we always made an effort to hide those times of conflict from our girl. It got bad. Really bad.

And though we’d attend parent-teacher conferences together, Simone’s mom would rarely make eye contact with me. She’d speak to the teachers and me in the exact same, civil-but-cool tone of voice. Through the reassurances from friends (especially the Peach) and family that I was, indeed, a competent, loving, if not faultless father, and after feeling battered again and again, I trained myself into a relative sense of immunity to her indictments. She knew very well how to make me second guess my parental abilities, but I gradually realized that she couldn’t really know what life was like for Simone and me.

Clarification: I lashed out occasionally, too. I wasn’t without fault. But I never, ever questioned her ability to be a good mom, or her right to equal parenting time.

For a few weeks before the new baby was born, I was truly worried that Simone’s mother would find a way to take her away from me. My friends acquainted with family law (attorneys and judges) told me again and again that she would have a very tough, expensive battle that would probably fail, but I still waited and waited for the thunderclouds.

But what happened instead surprised me.

After Simone’s baby sister was born, the clouds parted, and her mom became more than civil. In fact, sometimes, she’d be, well, friendly. I’m not sure what shifted. I honestly have no idea. My theories range from the thought that she realized my relationship with the girl is healthy, to maybe feeling the relief that I’m there for Simone while she and her husband nurture the new baby. Or, maybe, time has finally smoothed over the rough spots enough to allow her to let go of the anger.

But the reasons don’t really matter (until the next wave, if it comes). What matters is that Simone feels secure in our détente. She still tries, occasionally, to play us off of each other in order to gain some favor, but it’s generally lackluster, almost like she’s going through the motions because she thinks it’s just barely worth a try. And when I call Simone on it, she laughs a small, embarrassed laugh and shrugs her shoulders.

I’m enjoying this time. It’s nice to be able to smile at Simone’s mom and tell her a funny story about something Simone did over the weekend. It’s so much easier now to work out logistics when Simone’s out of school for one reason or another. There’s a new lightness in our interactions that wasn’t there before, and I don’t want to question it. I want us to all be friends.

I don’t harbor any resentment at all against Simone’s mom or the husband. I’m actually grateful for the last six-plus years of my life, for the magic that’s become such an integral part of the world around me, and for the challenges and successes that could only have come by being free of the situation we were in. I’m so happy for Simone that she has a baby sister, and I love holding the sweet little thing when I’m invited to.

We still have our bumpy moments, but that’s to be expected when raising a precocious, opinionated, way-too-empowered young lady. I mean, where do you think she got it her strong personality?

Comments

[Elaine at Lipstickdaily]

Lovely post. Thanks for sharing it.

[Nicola]

It's amazing where our journey can take us. I know what you mean when you talk about smiling and sharing stories. I too have a strong willed child and bumpy moments are to be expected. Good luck. I hope things continue to improve.

[Daisy Cottontail]

Best. Post. Ever.