You might call it the “D” word—divorce. Many children are blessed to be overwhelmingly loved by two caring adults who are able to cohesively co-parent. Then there are some children, like my own, who are not only left in turmoil but are also left with an absentee parent.

The father of my first two children could be summed up as a slow-motion train wreck. There is too much to go into great detail about, but his biggest flaw is choosing to be the equivalent of a distant cousin as opposed to a father: going weeks and even months without contact, missing birthday phone calls and falling about two years behind on child support payments.

Seeing the heartache on my children’s faces prompted me to become the Queen Mother of Overcompensation. I now had to step into their father’s shoes. I had to make up for all that he was screwing up.

At first, it was harmless: trying to make sure I fulfilled every wish on the birthday and Christmas list. I mean, how couldn’t I? How could I make his lack of financial or emotional help be the fault of a child?

Next came the emotional compensation, choosing to ignore problematic behaviors simply because of the pain the kids were feeling due to the loss of a family unit. I can remember the day my then-third grader leveled a classroom following an angry encounter with his teacher. I remember being terribly embarrassed and expressing that to every faculty member in view, but moments later, taking him for ice cream to talk it out.

I was afraid of being the “bad parent.” That if my children saw me put my foot down, they would hate me. I feared they would want and long for the one who wouldn’t even take the time to pick up the phone to return a call. I had to be all they needed wrapped in one. Believe it or not, I needed their love during this difficult time as much as they needed mine. I was afraid to parent my own children.

As I continued this path of destruction, I slowly began to realize that my pattern of enabling them was like putting scotch tape on a leaky pipe; sooner or later, that tape slides off, and the real problem bursts through. The gifts and the ice cream didn’t stop the anger and only calmed the raging storms. The phone calls from school didn’t stop. The ADD/ADHD diagnosis came next, which led to bigger, more underlying issues being discovered. My children were in pain, and no toy could fix that. More needed to be done!

I had to recognize my own toxic behavior in being my children’s enabler. The naysayers were right—they needed love, yes—but they also need guidance and a strong mother who stood firm in her decisions and who wouldn’t waffle at their whimpering. They needed a mother who was confident enough to know that she could never fully fill the void of their absent father.

I also had to acknowledge that I, too, was in pain. Divorce is never easy for children, but for the parties who vowed to spend the rest of their lives together, it was devastating. I cried myself to sleep some nights, afraid to face the world as something I never wanted to be. I was now a single mother and, most of all, alone. Loneliness eats away at you, and I longed to fill the void.

As these thoughts came rushing over me, I realized what I was doing to myself. Trying to overcompensate for someone who couldn’t care less was like ordering a Big Mac with a Diet Coke—it made no sense. I was an emotional wreck and I was passing that disease to my own children. I had to make a choice. I had to decide if I wanted to continue to fill the emotional loss with worthless items or if I wanted to help my children heal.

I wanted them to heal, so I had to hold myself and them accountable for our poor choices.

Part of that process meant allowing my children to talk it out with someone other than myself. The school counselors were amazing in this transition; my boys opened up and let them into their safe zone. They were given strategies to deal with anger and to calm themselves. They began talking more about missing their father and how it made them feel that he rarely fulfilled his role. While these were steps in the right direction, the healing process takes time. We continue to take it step by step and remember that we are in it together.

I know that we are not all lucky enough to have the perfect co-parenting scenario, though that’s what we all want for our children. In the event that we don’t get that happy ending, understanding that we are in charge of guarding our children’s emotional healing—and proceeding carefully and responsibly—is key.

Originally published January 2019.

RELATED LINKS
When Divorce Is the Only Answer
Dear Husband: I Need More Help from You
My Child with ADHD Needs Kinder—Not Tougher—Parenting

I am just regular mom of three wonderful boys and a married to the love of my life! I hope to reach people through writing and expressing my true experiences. My goal is to help a parent realize that no matter the struggle, they are not alone in the journey! 

You know what I mean, right?

“First they’re sour…Then they’re sweet.”

The first time I saw one of those commercials I instantly thought, hooooooly crap, that is Cruz.

He can literally be the sweetest child known to man; he’ll give hugs and kisses and shower me in spontaneous “I love yous” all day long.

But then…when I’m least expecting it…Sour Sour Patch Kid materializes and rains damnation on everything in its path, myself (…and Tom, and Mikki) included.

From day one he’s been the poster-child for strong-willed (a.k.a “Spirited” — ha, nice try attempting to make it sound pleasant…) children:

High energy, intense emotions, crazy mood shifts, and oh.so.freaking.stubborn. It’s actually quite worrying, because I’ve seriously thought on more than one occasion that Stalin was probably very similar to Cruz when he was a toddler…

I bring this up not to belittle my son or to whine and complain (like I tend to do…), but to maybe just concede the fact that I’m actually having a really hard time parenting him. Don’t get me wrong, he is insanely smart and kind and thoughtful and lovable, but there are also days when he makes me want to jump in front of a bus.

Is anyone else feeling this way?

It seems like whenever I look around all I see are quiet and docile children everywhere. Why is mine the only one shrieking at the top of his lungs because I gave him the red straw and not the green one? How come my kid is the only one kicking me in the shins because he couldn’t get his arm in the arm hole of his shirt?

He hits. He tantrums. He talks back (ie: You can’t put me in timeout…You can’t spank me…You can’t [insert just about anything here]).

He does all of the things I swore my child would never do.

Shows how much I knew, huh?

But I swear to you, I am not an absentee parent. We discipline the crap out of this kid, and nothing seems to curb the inappropriate behavior. We have a rule chart. We do timeout. We’ve tried spanking. We take TV away. We praise good behavior. I’m a stay at home parent who cares very much about the well-being of her child; trust me, I’m putting in the man-hours attempting to raise a decent human being.

This is why it’s so frustrating that nothing we do seems to reign-in the nasty stuff. This is why I feel demoralized on a daily basis when I get judgmental stares from strangers (and non-strangers) after my son manhandles me in public.

I know that all toddlers can be mini-Hitlers, I understand that. But when does it end? Is there a light at the end of this tunnel, or are we going off the rails on this crazy train?!

I am 100% confident (I feel like I’m on the Maury Show spouting off such a baseless guarantee…) that my son will turn out just fine; it’s often said that the traits strong-willed kids possess are golden once they become adolescents and adults (somebody back me up on that one…).

It’s not that I’m worried about him turning into a serial killer or anything like that, but I do worry about 1. my ability to instill in him compassion and respect for others (especially adults and authority figures, parents included) and 2. finding a way to assert my parental authority without crushing his spirit.

Because I love my little spirited gremlin.

I love that he is persistent and tough and knows what he wants. I love that he’s passionate and energetic and curious about the world around him. I don’t want to become so frustrated by a few of the things he does that I end up putting out his fire. I’ve seen parents, who whether out of fear or exhaustion or impatience, just parent way too hard. I’ve had days when I’ve said things to Cruz I should never have said, in ways I shouldn’t have said them, all because I was tired and angry. He’s still at an age where he forgives and forgets pretty quickly, but as time goes on bitter words end up sowing bitter feelings until they lead to nothing short of resentment.

I don’t want that.

Anyway, I’m not entirely sure what the point of this post is. It’s not like I’m offering some kind of parenting solution, and to be completely honest I’m not really looking for parenting advice.

I think I just needed to give voice to my internal struggle as I attempt to figure out what will work best for us. And maybe…just a little teensy bit…I’m seeking validation from even one person who can commiserate with me as we navigate the ugly side of this awesome journey that is parenting.

Annnnnd because I know some wise guy out there (namely my own mother…) is waiting to say it…Yes…I know it will only get worse once I have a teenager…

Beat ya to it.

I'm a native of Michigan, a vagabond of the western U.S., and now an expat in Shanghai, China. I mom (yeah...that's a verb), I IRONMAN, I travel, and I'm attempting to master Mandarin. Expat life with two kidlets is crazy, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.