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My Daughter's Father is a unique perspective on the challenges of parenting from a seldom-told vantage point: The single dad. Sam, a 33-year-old journalist, will write about the joy and heartache of loving and raising — and sharing — the most precious part of his life, Maddie. This candid essay about the anxiety of knowing that every decision helps mold his child into the woman she will become comes from a father who has grudgingly acknowledged that, no matter how hard we try, we parents will never have it all figured out.
November 2008 - Posts
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There are few things I loathe more during the holidays than hustling about, rushing from one family scene to another, inhaling an endless stream of lunches and dinners while tacitly acknowledging my loved ones as I excuse myself and race on to the next culinary pit stop.
Though my folks divorced when I was seven, I still remember this time of year as a time to relax, play and enjoy my time with my family. And, of course, eat until I can't move. Save that last bit, it isn't quite the same anymore.
This Thanksgiving, Maddie and I have been given a reprieve. Her Mom called to let me know they're staving off the madness until the weekend.
I'd geared up with anxiety over how things would play out Thursday; rarely is it this easy. Of course, I get Maddie often — that is, often for a single father. And having her in my home is my joy.
But my heart is filled and I am warmed when, together, we visit our family, when she gets to run and play with her cousins, when her aunts and uncles and grandparents and great-grandparents get to love on her and ask her about school and, well, just be together.
It's going to be a good holiday.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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It's that time of the year. Not the decking of halls and spiking egg nog and turkey hangover time, though that certainly is upon us.
No, now is the time for that wonderful holiday tradition of bartering with Maddie's Mom for time with my daughter.
It has become an annual rite of passage, one that invariably brings about some level of animus and always heartache, the latter usually exclusively mine.
Of course, almost all families have to deal with this; few of us are so fortunate as to have everyone centrally located.
But Maddie's holiday visits stretch nearly 250 miles through five cities. She doesn't travel that much in a single day, but even over the course of a long weekend, that's a lot. One of the many things I cannot stand about Maddie growing up in a split family is how much time she spends in the car.
A major tenet, I've learned, of the single father is compromise. Not the kind where Mom gives up something and I respond in kind, but the variant of compromise where she tells me how things are going to be and I can either get upset and argue, which gets me exactly nowhere, or I can give up the argument and bend over the barrel, 'cause that's where I'm going to end up, anyway.
Maddie's Mom, I must say, isn't a complete hardass with me. We get along now better than I ever imagined we would, especially given how we really feel about each other, and our ability to get along for Maddie's sake is likely our greatest victory. That there were very few to begin with doesn't diminish it.
But she is also very comfortable in her position of power. She knows she holds all the cards and plays them when it suits her.
Thanksgiving dinner shouldn't be too much trouble this year, other than Maddie having to travel a lot.
It's Christmas that always causes problems. Maddie, per Mom's suggestion, believes Santa only visits her Mom's house. And until Maddie ceases to believe in Santa, she won't be awakening in my home Christmas morn.
Maddie will be 8 in January, so I'm hopeful this year will be the last.
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One of the more difficult aspects of parenting, I've found, is helping Maddie appreciate all her blessings.
The girl wants for nothing. Every Christmas is a lottery jackpot; you'd think Santa tired as he reached her tree and decided to just leave the whole bag. Her Mom told me last year that she was rewrapping a couple gifts from the previous holiday she found that still had tags.
Despite her overflowing closets at her Mom's and my house, Maddie persists in asking for a new toy every time we go to a store, which, I suppose, is any child's wont. Mind you, she never gives me any grief when I tell her "no" - as far as I can remember, she's never thrown a fit for not getting something she wanted.
Maddie had some scratch from her last visit from the tooth fairy, and her Mom asked that I take her to the store this past weekend so she could spend it. As we were walking to the Jeep, her step-dad acknowledged Maddie has a hard time saving.
Ah, an opportunity.
Maddie's really big on the Littlest Pet Shop toys and took a long time deliberating over which one she wanted when we went to the store later that night. I suggested she could hang on to the money and after she got some more money down the road, she could put it all together and get something then.
She went with the pony.
On our drive home from the store, Maddie asked what I thought about her choice. I told her I thought she should have saved her money, that she already has a lot of the Pet Shop toys and there was surely something bigger and more expensive that she'd want down the road and that saving her money would help her get it.
The girl agonized for hours. I could tell it was really weighing on her - oh, the stress of being 7 - and I asked her every once in awhile what she was thinking about.
"It's a really hard decision," she told me.
Finally, Maddie decided to return the toy and save her money for another day. This was a big step. For a child to sacrifice immediate gratification - something with which even adults have tremendous difficulty - to do something responsible and sensible is a great moment of maturation.
I was so impressed.
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As the father of a child who doesn't live with me, one of my favorite parts of the day is catching Maddie on the phone and talking about her day. It isn't always fun — sometimes she doesn't feel like chatting, and there are days when getting any information out of her is like pulling teeth.
Tonight was a good night.
After discussing math class and what she had for dinner and movie night at school tomorrow night — where she'll see Kung Fu Panda for the second time — we got into more serious matters.
Maddie has, for some time now, been taking increasingly bolder steps in experimenting with her sense of independence. She has her own room at my house and about a year ago decided to affix to her door a note requiring any comers to knock. When I bypassed protocol one afternoon, my exasperated 6-year-old exclaimed, "Well, I guess my sign doesn't work!"
Last Christmas I bought for her a door bell which hangs from the knob and has a small dry erase board on which to write notes. And I've made a greater effort to respect her privacy; I hope in doing so I provide for her an example of how to respect others.
On the phone tonight, Maddie told me she had created a new sign for her door at her Mom's house. She read the sign to me:
"Warning: Don't come in 'til you knock! If you are a boy and don't knock, you are in trouble, Mister. Don't think about it!"
What a riot!
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It's an amazing time to be an American and the father of a young child.
As a journalist, I have an insatiable appetite for information and spend copious amounts of time consuming it. What's worse, I'm a big time politics junkie. I can't begin to imagine how much time I devoted to the election, both in following it and being a part of it. And I've relished every minute.
The best part, though, has been bringing Maddie into it, explaining to her why this is such a big deal and helping her understand why democracy is such a vital part of our great country.
It has been difficult. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try to explain why the possibility of a black man becoming president was such a transformative concept for the U.S., given our history of slavery and segregation.
We were driving home (in the Jeep, go figure) when I started into the conversation, and I quickly found myself stumbling. I couldn't figure out how to describe slavery so a 7-year-old would comprehend. And, more importantly, I started to worry about how she'd react. Maddie's an incredibly sensitive girl, and I felt it would be hurtful and upsetting to her. So, I stopped.
I spoke with my brother last week and explained my conundrum. He, having recently married a woman whose son is just a couple months older than Maddie, had the same discussion with him recently. He had explained that there was a time when blacks were forced to work for whites, but they didn't get paid. "That sucks" was the boy's response. Quick and easy, and he got it … essentially.
A day to remember
We have early voting here in Indiana, so I took Maddie with me to vote the Saturday before the election. The line was about and hour and a half, but I brought my laptop and she watched Ratatouille with another little girl while we waited.
It was a great moment. I took Maddie in the booth with me and showed her how the machine worked; we selected our candidates, and she pushed the red button to cast our ballot. She seemed pretty excited about it, and I hope it's a day that stays with her forever.
Detailing our country's at-times sordid past can wait for another day. For now, I'm just thrilled that Maddie will grow up having no idea why a black president is out of the ordinary.
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