BLOGMAS #14: A CHRISTMAS WISH
This is where the author gets candid, the turn in the holiday movie, the moment when the music slows and softens and the camera leans in on the protagonist.
I have only one wish this Christmas, and it's that my twins are spared the tension between their mother and I. We've done our best to co-parent, but the results feel like an epic failure. Perhaps I was naive to believe that a genuine 50/50 custody plan could work long term. But, you know the old adage about hindsight. What matters now is that my girls are getting closer and closer to their first year in public school, and I can't find any common ground with my ex-wife.
Where she values school level success, I value consistency in the district. When she speaks of family, I notice the absence of my other kids, the ones we don't share. Even the role of our respective partners have polarized us. At this juncture, I have less and less faith in our ability to truly co-parent. We can't even seem to speak without squaring off, stuck in a cycle of defensive retorts and skewed logic.
My ex-wife and I both love our girls. That much I am sure of. Beyond that, though, I no longer believe that we were ever really on the same page, either as parents or as partners. And this doubt, this animosity, has mired what should be one of the most joyful times of the year. Instead, I find myself clinging to my daughters when they're with me, choking back tears so that they do not know why I hug them so tightly.
Why should the decision about which school they attend be so contentious? The simple answer is that which school they attend will determine which parent they are with 5 nights each week. I don't want to be without them that long, and neither does their mother. That much I understand. But if we are really pursuing their best interest, why does every discussion either turn bitter or end abruptly with non-responsiveness?
My daughters are just over three years old, and already it seems as though their mother and I have completely different views on what is best for them. The chasm between my opinion and hers shocks me, if only because we had such similar experiences growing up. We both know what it is to be a child of divorce, and how frustrating it can be when blended families aren't wholly dichotomous, yet we can't seem to align our priorities or desires for the twins.
To make matters worse, I am constantly surrounded by reminders that our culture completely devalues the role of fathers. Countless mothers assert that nothing is as important as the mother's bond with her children, and no one knows more about what's best for kids than their mother. My own family celebrates my ex-wife's presence in the girls' lives and praises her as a mother often. And what is left for the father? Very little, other than a common belief that I have a financial obligation to my children.
I have absolutely no qualm with child support. None. But I refuse to believe that the culmination of a father's importance in a child's life is quantified by his paycheck. Is every father attentive and caring and happily involved? Of course not. But shouldn't the most minimal expectation for any parent be an active role in a child's life? Sending money is not active. I have no role with the IRS, and I send them money every month.
No. An active role means playing in the dirt behind the park or dawning a tiara during dress up. It means taking kids to doctor appointments and knowing their favorite everything. It means cooking dinner and brushing teeth and saying no when you have to. It means learning new ways to solve math problems, running downstairs to move the elves before the kids wake up for school, and flipping pancakes on Saturday mornings because no one has time for a hot breakfast during the week.
I guess I have two wishes this Christmas.
I wish that my ex-wife and I could find some way to put our own desires aside and learn to discuss our daughters' needs productively, kindly, respectfully. And I wish for a time when fathers do not have to justify their importance in the lives of their children.
So there it is. My Christmas wish(es). May all yours come true.
