Disconnect

There is a disconnect between my children and their father.  That is obvious, you might say, when the man lives overseas, talks to his kids just minutes per week, and hasn't seen them in person in a year and a half.  But it's more than that.  They totally love him.  The younger two have no sense that he's ever done anything wrong, so they think he's an all-around good guy.  My oldest knows some of his dad's faults, but chooses to bypass them in his head in order to keep things "happy".  Kids are desperate to keep things positive with their parents, even if that parent has no business BEING a parent.  Psychology backs me up on that one.

I sit back and let the children traverse this "relationship" with their dad, via Skype.  I say very little.  I know that it is best if they come to terms with who he is in their own time.  Because they don't see him on a regular basis and experience what it's like to be with him for long, long periods of time, they probably won't realize the type of person he is until they are well into their teens or adulthood.  It would only damage MY relationship with them if I were to explain the type of person their dad is, and their minds are not ready to process it.

So, I sit back.  I wait.  I encourage what little connection they do have.  Someday, I pray, my kids will appreciate and thank me (even if only internally) for that.

But this emotional disconnect intrigues me.  Not in a great way, because it's not great for kids to be disconnected from their parents, but it's interesting to observe.  When my kids want something, they come to me and ask for it.  Typical.  Normal.  It's what kids do.  Not long ago, Ethan was begging for something, over and over and over, and it was not something I could afford to get him, and I told him (this might not have been the correct thing for a divorced parent to do, but I did it anyway) to ask his dad for it.  He didn't.  He begged for it some more.  I told him to ask his dad.  I kind of wanted to know what his dad would say!  His dad does not part with money gladly.  The court-ordered amount I receive is already under the guideline amount and I NEVER get extra.  For anything.  I was curious to know how he would respond to his son asking him for something.  It was not an exorbitant amount of money, either.  But Ethan never asked.

I realized that my kids never ask their dad for anything.  They do sometimes ask when he's going to come visit, but they don't inundate him with their typical, kid-oriented, wish lists, the way they do with me.  And I believe this stems from their emotional disconnect with him.  He's a fun person to talk to (for those few minutes a few times a week).  He's fun to hang out with (hence, the desire for him to come visit).  He's always been a reasonably fun playmate for them.  But they know.  My children know that their dad has nothing to offer them.  They are (for now) content with the measly crumbs he is able to give, and they don't ask for more.  I really believe that they instinctively know that he is incapable of filling any part of them.

This saddens me so much.  And then I look at the contrast.  My kids ask me for EVERYTHING.  They ask for big things, little things, they tell me stories they never seem to think of telling in their 5-10 minute conversations with their dad.  They bring to me every aspect of their lives.  Even with a parent far away, they  COULD have an emotional bond big enough to tell HIM these things.  I know other parents who live far away from their kids who have a MUCH closer bond and speak for hours at a time with their kids.  And their kids seek THEM out as much as they seek their kids.  My kids don't seek their dad.  If he doesn't Skype, they don't mention him.  They don't notice if a day, or two days, or even a week goes by without him calling.  He calls, they have almost the exact same conversation with him every day (he asks what they did that day, they ask what he did, and it rarely goes beyond that), and that's it.

They have no desire to share their lives with him.  Oh sure, sometimes they show him a Lego creation they made, or a story they wrote.  That's rare, though.  I know Skype isn't ideal.  I know with young kids, video chats and phone calls are not the best way to communicate.  Kids are "in person" kind of creatures.  But they know.  They know they are not truly invested in by their dad.  So, they don't invest, either.  If he was truly invested, maybe he'd find different things to talk about.  Maybe he'd actually email their mother and find out what's up in their lives, and not just what they do, but how they feel, what scares them, what excites them, what makes them happy, what are their concerns.  If he knew all of that (which, at their ages, he's only going to learn by talking to me, but he'll never willingly talk to me), their conversations, even if short, could have so much more substance, so much more depth, so much more meaning.  If he did that often enough, the kids WOULD start bringing their lives to him, in much the same way they do with me.

Unfortunately, I know him well.  He doesn't really do much beyond the bare minimum in relationships.  I don't think it's even conscious.  I think he does what he is capable of.  I wonder what made him that way.  But that's another post altogether.

All this said, I feel a sense of completeness and fulfillment, knowing that I know every aspect of these kids.  Well, as much as any good parent would.  God, obviously, knows them best and knows all the places I don't see.  But I feel 100% connected with my kids.  I know, without question, who they want when they need comfort.  I know who they want to tell when something really cool happens to them.  I read a quote somewhere that said something like (and now I'll probably butcher it):  "Listen closely when your kids tell you the small stuff, because in the end, it was all big stuff to them."  My kids tell me everything.  Every. Mundane. Thing.  They talk and talk and talk and talk.  I am trying to work harder at consciously listening, not just continuing to do what I'm doing and saying "Uh huh" every few seconds, but really stopping, looking at them, and listening.  I want them to know I'm interested in them.  I want them to know that what they say matters.  I want them to know that when they have no one else to talk to, they can talk to Mum.

Do you know what's really sad?  The kids don't talk to their dad for more than 5-10 minutes, usually.  Sometimes it's a bit longer.  Once the boys tire of talking, Rory will often want to sit and chat.  She's pretty intrigued by the whole "computer screen that talks to her and is called 'daddy'" idea.  She has sat there up to 20 minutes or more, "chatting".  He does talk with her, but if there is a silence, or if he doesn't understand her (as is normal when talking with a 2 year old, sometimes), I have noticed (if I'm in the room and can see the computer monitor) that he will busy himself with something around him, not looking at his computer at all.  He'll chat with someone beside him, or he'll look at some papers on his desk, if he's at work.  All I can think is, wow, you have such a small fraction of time with your children, why wouldn't you make the absolute MOST of it?  I don't get it.  But I suppose that's what makes me different than him, and for that, I am grateful.

I am not grateful for the disconnect my kids have with their father.  It saddens me and will account for much angst for them as they grow and mature.  This is why I pray so hard for good, solid males in their lives.  And why I pray constantly for my ever loving Father in heaven to be the "father to the fatherless".

But I AM grateful that my relationship with my children is as strong as it's ever been.  I lost NOTHING 3 years ago, when it comes to my kids.  He lost everything.  He wouldn't have had to.  But his choice cost him everything.  The saddest part is that he doesn't even seem to comprehend what he lost.  Like a little child, finding a lost wallet with 1 million dollars in it and throwing it into the nearest bin.  It's not like he knew he was rich and threw it away.  It's like he never recognized the riches he had to begin with.  I'd pity him, but it takes too much energy.  I would rather invest my energy in these 3 phenomenal treasures who make my life richer than I could have ever dreamed.