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.