"Mommy, please don't invite my other dad, Adrian....... I really don't want him to come to our Christmas. I don't know him, and I don't like him. I don't want him to come to my house. Please don't..."
A conversation between my sister and I about plans for Christmas day... talking about when Aunt Kasey& Aunt Adriene would show up on Christmas evening, and out of nowhere I got this request.
I wanted to find it funny, instead it just broke my heart.
He repeated himself once or twice while I sat there stunned, not sure how to respond... and after I finally assured him I would not extend the invitation he followed with...
"Thanks Mom! I just don't want him here. I don't know him. And I love my new Daddy."
I would have cried if he hadn't been sitting in front of me.
On one hand, knowing he loves his Daddy is wonderful.
At the same time, realizing that just because he doesn't talk about him every day, we hadn't really talked about him in months, doesn't mean he doesn't understand what was explained to him fully this year... that he has a different biological father than this brothers, and that man's not here, and never was... it sucks.
I'm sure there are things I just don't understand. I'm sure that I could be more sympathetic. I just don't want to, because I love this little boy more than anything in this world and it hurts to watch his face when he's saying things like this.
He's 4. His greatest worry should be what paint to use on his picture, and whether to ride his scooter or his bike, and which legos to build next... he shouldn't be wondering who this guy is and if he might show up to disrupt his world.
He has asked so many questions this year, and I've done my best to provide honest, gentle answers.
I've given him examples of friends of his/ours who also have biological fathers, all of them different with different relationships and outcomes, explaining that anything is possible and it will be what we make of it, and I've listened to responses such as, "Does Micah hate his the same way I hate my 'logilogical' Dad?", that one hurt to hear. I explained to my young son that hate is a choice that harms mostly those choosing to allow the feeling, and we really shouldn't hate. Especially people we don't know. Besides, he didn't remember him, how did he know he wouldn't like him? "He's a good guy", I said. And then I stopped and wondered when I started sounding so much like my mother. I remember being 4/5ish and older and my Mom giving me the same speeches about my so-called Father. I remember looking at her wondering if she thought I was stupid. I knew what a good guy was, at least I had my definition of it at my age, and the one who wasn't there for his kids was not it.
No excuses make up for just not showing up. Or even sending a card.
I give up.
I decided my son has the right to choose. I will never bad mouth any father in front of him.
I haven't ever tried to make him dislike someone, and I won't be starting with Adrian.
I believe my son to be intelligent enough to decide whom he likes& dislikes& why.
I will not brush off his feelings, nor attempt to defend, not again.
Honestly, I'm sure it hurts me more than him right now.
He has a family he adores, and a Daddy he thinks rules the world... and anyone who knows him knows that no one makes up his mind for him. He's not easily swayed towards or away from one thing or another. He already makes up his own mind, and I can't, and would not even if I could, take that right away from him.
Most days I would rather choose silence than attempt to justify myself, or explain to people who are obviously not seeing the whole picture, why things are the way they are. Most days I don't let it get to me that I am responsible and no matter how I hate it, it's my job as Mom to tell my son as much truth as he wishes to know. Most days.
Sometimes, for a moment at a time, for those moments when Caleb wants to know why, where& how... in those moments I wish you knew. I wish everyone saw the whole thing, I wish it was played on a movie screen so that I could see what I should be doing next, and so that there could be no lies. He couldn't accuse, I couldn't justify& no one could blame.
I've given him examples of friends of his/ours who also have biological fathers, all of them different with different relationships and outcomes, explaining that anything is possible and it will be what we make of it, and I've listened to responses such as, "Does Micah hate his the same way I hate my 'logilogical' Dad?", that one hurt to hear. I explained to my young son that hate is a choice that harms mostly those choosing to allow the feeling, and we really shouldn't hate. Especially people we don't know. Besides, he didn't remember him, how did he know he wouldn't like him? "He's a good guy", I said. And then I stopped and wondered when I started sounding so much like my mother. I remember being 4/5ish and older and my Mom giving me the same speeches about my so-called Father. I remember looking at her wondering if she thought I was stupid. I knew what a good guy was, at least I had my definition of it at my age, and the one who wasn't there for his kids was not it.
No excuses make up for just not showing up. Or even sending a card.
I give up.
I decided my son has the right to choose. I will never bad mouth any father in front of him.
I haven't ever tried to make him dislike someone, and I won't be starting with Adrian.
I believe my son to be intelligent enough to decide whom he likes& dislikes& why.
I will not brush off his feelings, nor attempt to defend, not again.
Honestly, I'm sure it hurts me more than him right now.
He has a family he adores, and a Daddy he thinks rules the world... and anyone who knows him knows that no one makes up his mind for him. He's not easily swayed towards or away from one thing or another. He already makes up his own mind, and I can't, and would not even if I could, take that right away from him.
Most days I would rather choose silence than attempt to justify myself, or explain to people who are obviously not seeing the whole picture, why things are the way they are. Most days I don't let it get to me that I am responsible and no matter how I hate it, it's my job as Mom to tell my son as much truth as he wishes to know. Most days.
Sometimes, for a moment at a time, for those moments when Caleb wants to know why, where& how... in those moments I wish you knew. I wish everyone saw the whole thing, I wish it was played on a movie screen so that I could see what I should be doing next, and so that there could be no lies. He couldn't accuse, I couldn't justify& no one could blame.
I'll get over it. I'll have no choice apparently.
The man who was supposed to be Dad has traded truth for some story even he can't possibly believe.
He's taken to throwing things in my face that never even happened.
Interchanging stories of women in his life, so that truth isn't even an option.
Maybe it's his alcohol addiction. Maybe it's his way of coping.
Whatever it is... I want no part of it.
I will keep figuring out the best way to handle things, and in the mean time people can speculate and hold onto their ideas of what is right... I'm not concerned with right, I'm doing what works for us.
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