The Cliché Parade: Daddy's Little Girl, Grown

I had a real moment last night. A painful, paradigm-wrenching, eyes still swelled shut in the morning from crying the night before one.

When our son was two, my dad gave him an electric motorcycle on Christmas eve morning, the kind little kids motor around on at like 1.5 mph. I felt irritated by it, I thought, because it has several types of loud, working sirens, it's made in China, there's nothing creative or open-ended about it, you get the idea. I buy sort of Waldorf-inspired things for the kids, and books. Nothing even remotely like this. He didn't even mention he was thinking about getting it, because he didn't think about getting it - he bid on it at a charity auction.

When my son opened it, he lit up like the 4th of July. Within 5 minutes he was steering around the furniture way beyond what I knew him to be capable of, with a look of pleasure so deep he couldn't even crack a smile. I've only seen that expression a handful of times. That's a really special one, one I want tattooed on my brain. And so after that, I accommodated the motorcycle, because I thought it would be Grinch-y of me not to.

So.

Last night, I realized that wasn't really the problem. The motorcycle, per se.

Questions From a Parent Considering Gray Divorce

I commented on a No Fault Divorce article last month, because it had a breakdown of divorce's effects on children, listed by stage of their development, and it stopped at age 18 -  to most of society, the last accepted age of parental divorce's significant impact. I received a follow up comment from a still-married mother of adult children, who after reading some of my entries here, asked if I might address some questions, since she is unsure of the wisdom in continuing her marriage. It feels a little heavy to speak my mind in such a context, especially considering that the last 5 years have been characterized by a lack of consistency in the feelings my parents' divorce has elicited. Much of the time since my dad left has been absolute Emotional and Interpersonal Anarchy, not just in my relationships with my parents, but also spilling over into my relationship with my children's father. I have felt largely and categorically undone, and I will talk about my experiences openly, but I feel pretty unqualified to make sweeping, generalized statements.

I can tell you this: the questions I have been asked to answer have never been asked of me before. And if I were the grown child of a parent with enough compassion and perspective to wonder about these answers for her own children, I would feel hopeful about our relationship's potential.

Here's what she's asked me to address:

Parental Alienation Soundrack

Have you listened to "When Doves Cry" lately? There's something brilliantly therapeutic in dancing to such sad sentiments.

I am my father's daughter in more ways than I can count, temperament not the least among them; and yet I'm female and the oldest child, and I feel a strong kinship with my mother as well. We have lots of interests in common despite major differences in our outlooks. I've always felt that I was a blend of my parents, and even as I've alternately struggled with relationships with both of them, I love them deeply.

However, in times of discord my mother has attempted Parental Alienation. I'm confident that she would say given the circumstances, it was in my best interest and completely justifiable. My mother is a painfully honest person; her opinions are just that, but I don't argue when she says, "This happened," because her track record is pretty reliable. There's no denying that my dad was a terrible husband to her in very significant ways - even he has said so. But growing up and even now as an adult, the comparisons she makes between me and my father have rooted a deep struggle and hopelessness in me.

I've always known that my mother loved me - though mostly I felt her definition of love was "commitment," not love -  but since I was 12 I have also believed that she did not and probably would not ever like me. I am too much like my dad in her eyes. Now that he is gone from her presence, it has often felt as though she views me as his stand in.