by Bailey Thomas, Cynthia,Thomas, Peter,Short, Rochelle,Saunders, Keith
When a custodial parent sends their child to live somewhere else, it’s essential for peace of mind to know the child is entering a safe and loving environment. I went out of my way to give Isaiah’s mom the same reassurance I would want. Isaiah came to us, identifying more with his white side. He looked black but had a lot of white tendencies. It made sense to me because his mom and siblings were white; he lived in a white neighborhood and had primarily white friends. Atlanta was a culture shock on every level. Collard greens and hot-water cornbread were as foreign to him as his blackness. He liked snowboarding and just about any cold sport you could name – all of which were not found in the South. As far as I knew, black people ran from the cold, like it was a form of Kryptonite.
Isaiah was welcomed with outstretched arms into our home. Noelle and I were pretty used to ruling the roost, so adding a twelve-year-old boy to the mix took somewhat of an exorcism. I had to purge all of his boyish habits of eating directly from containers, drinking out of cartons and not washing his hands when he came in from the outside. Noelle was initially excited to have a brother, until her Only Child Syndrome kicked in. All day long she would ask me, “When is he leaving, Mommy?” I had to explain to her that Isaiah wasn’t a new toy that she could play with for a few months and toss aside when she got bored.
Other than both having November birthdays, Isaiah and Noelle were very distinct kids. They were from different backgrounds, went to separate schools and their personalities were polar opposites. Every week there was a new battle of the sexes fight to referee. Living with them was like being an extra in a dysfunctional chitlin’ circuit play. They would bump heads for days, then all of a sudden, Isaiah would be playing games with Noelle or surfing the net on her iPad. I chalked it all up to just plain, ol’ sibling rivalry.
The more Peter stayed out of it all, the smoother the household operated. His over-parenting was completely off the chain! He had a running scroll of pie-in-the-sky mandates for Isaiah. He had to be in bed by eight, eat all his vegetables, brush his teeth after every meal and hang the moon every night before 7:00 p.m. It was ridiculous! Peter’s excessive rules created even more discord, and Isaiah started to challenge the variances in the household rules. He wanted to know why Noelle didn’t have to go to bed until ten. Why didn’t Noelle have to eat all her vegetables? Why didn’t Noelle have to do this? Why didn’t Noelle have to do that? I allowed everything to run its course, and I remained quiet. As long as it didn’t affect my parenting style or Noelle’s routines, I supported Peter raising his child as he saw best.
To Peter’s credit, Isaiah was adjusting well and showing major signs of improvement. He was happy, his grades were good and he had gained some healthy weight. When he returned home that year to visit him mom during the Christmas break, she liked the child that came back. She had really missed him and ultimately decided Isaiah didn’t need to be in Atlanta anymore. It was never her goal to send him to Georgia indefinitely. She was just a mother trying to save her child from himself. She wanted to see a positive change in him, and Isaiah’s stay with his father delivered it.
It was interesting getting to know and establish a relationship with Peter’s kids. Of them all, Peter’s separation from Bryce seemed to cause him the most suffering. There was a stretch of time when Peter didn’t see or talk to him for almost a year and a half. His mom had moved on and Bryce had started referring to her new guy as “Dad.” It made Peter equal parts furious and sad. Peter’s mania naturally played out in our household, and he was consistently a jerk to Noelle and me. He was so hypersensitive to the matter; we had to refer to it as “The Bryce Situation.”
I was unsuccessful in comforting him, and it was agonizing to watch the man I loved suffer and not be able to do anything about it. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the mindset of a parent who worked so hard to isolate a child from their other parent. I couldn’t think of anything that Leon could do to make me keep Noelle away from him. Regardless of how bad things got, I stayed in it with Peter. When he asked, I would advise him on what words or actions I thought a woman would respond to – sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Peter eventually pursued the matter in court until he was finally granted visitation rights.
Not long after getting the order, I went to Miami with Peter to meet Bryce. Peter picked him up and brought him back to our hotel. More than any of his other children, Bryce looked the most like Peter (with fair skin). He was a sweet spirit like his dad, but a boy of few words. I gave him space, didn’t make idle conversation or do anything to try and win him over. I simply maintained the role of my husband’s advocate. After that visit, Peter began to see him on a regular basis. He also purchased a cell phone for Bryce to call him as often as he wanted.
After an incubation period, Bryce was allowed to come visit us. Based on the selection of clothing and how neatly his things were packed, I could tell his mom was an attentive mother who loved him. He was a well-behaved and uncomplicated child. I was bowled over by his good manners and his need for very little instruction. No matter what it was, he never needed to be told something more than once. When I met his mom, I understood why Bryce was so well-rounded. She was bright, kind and fun. I was damn near ready to exchange friendship bracelets with her! Peter swore it wasn’t her usual nature, but the woman I met was cool and one I would have enjoyed having cocktails with.
I don’t ever try to carry a torch on Peter’s behalf or follow the issues he’s had with his exes. I see them all as connecting parts of his past that hold five master keys to his future. Kids can’t be canceled, and parents have no choice but to work through their differences and be civil. My cardinal rule is to simply listen and stay out of any matters concerning the kids or their moms. My perspective keeps me neutral, worry-free and mess-free.
I’m not looking for a friendship with any of Peter’s exes, only an exchange of mutual courtesy and consideration. In my experience with each, I sensed they merely wanted my respect, not necessarily to be liked. They are all rearing great kids and certainly deserve to be revered. It’s a small price to pay to any woman raising a man’s child as a single parent.
Peter’s Direct Flight
Being dropped in Black-lanta was an adjustment for Isaiah…and Noelle. She, too, was a multicultural kid who had to get in the rhythm of being around so many blacks when she and her mom moved to Atlanta. Noelle was the princess of the house, and very used to getting everything she wanted. It was almost impossible to get her and Isaiah to share. Noelle’s mom sided with her a lot, and it created major conflict between Cynthia and me.
Noelle is the person that Cynthia loves most in this world. Cynthia will never comprise when it comes to her. If it comes down to it, she will cut off any man or family member for the sake of her daughter. Cynthia established a clear chain of priorities with me from day one, so I never tried to play it like I didn’t know the deal. In Cynthia’s defense, I know she really tried to make the situation with Isaiah work. She cared deeply for him, but at the end of the day, Isaiah wasn’t her child. It was just one of those predicaments she didn’t see coming. It was difficult for all of us.
I had experienced the same inner battle early on in my relationship with Cynthia. There was a period when I didn’t want to be around Noelle. She wasn’t my child, and I was missing my own children. On top of my resentment, I kept feeling like Noelle was being instructed not to listen to me. She was smart well beyond her years and knew how to manipulate Cynthia to get her way. Sometimes it felt like I was in a competition with her to see which of us would win Cynthia’s approval.
For a long time, I thought it was because Noelle didn’t respect me as viable father figure. She never called me “Daddy” or referred to me as her stepdad. I was always just “Peter” to her. In reality, it had more to do with the fact that she already had a bond with her biological father. I still took it personally, because I had been in a similar situation that never required me to jump over as many hurdles.<
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Bryce’s mom had a young daughter who lived with us as well. There were no grandparents to pitch in or help babysit on the fly, because both of my ex’s parents were deceased. Not having them around made her appreciative of my involvement in her daughter’s life. She would leave her in my care without any hesitation. No matter what anybody else said, did or thought, she always honored my presence and opinions. She had an unwavering trust in my ability to step in as a guardian. It was a totally different experience than the road I traveled with Cynthia and Noelle.
It wasn’t that Cynthia didn’t trust me with her daughter; she just had a lot of people to answer to. Initially, Leon and Cynthia’s mother were opposed to Noelle being left alone with me. Cynthia didn’t want any backlash, so she would leave Noelle with the nanny or her mom would come in from Alabama to watch her. It was like their eyes were constantly on me, and they didn’t feel she was safe in my presence. It affected me and made me not want to be alone with Noelle until we were all on the same page. I was Cynthia’s husband, but the process of getting past all the scrutiny took years.
Just because two people got married, blended families don’t blend overnight! The kids have to take their own steps in getting to know one another. Noelle has met all of my children, but she doesn’t refer to them as her brothers and sisters – they’re Peter’s kids. Likewise, my children see her as Cynthia’s daughter. It’s a natural, understandable disconnect. They didn’t grow up together and they don’t live in the same household (or state). Ours is NOT a truly blended family. We are far from The Brady Bunch, and Alice ain’t in the damn kitchen making oatmeal cookies. True bonds take time and we are all just reaching a place where it’s all good.
Noelle now loves me, and I love her. Our first three years together were hard. Cynthia played a big role in conditioning her to accept me as a surrogate. Once Noelle began to feel safe, she actually started to miss me when we were away from each other for extended periods. I’d also missed the hell out of her when she was gone. She had a tradition of spending every Christmas in Jamaica with her dad. I knew our relationship had changed when she would return home and my hug would be longer and tighter than the one she gave her mom. I could always tell when she was missing her father too; she would climb into bed with us and lay her head on me with daughterly affection. I love being a dad! Including Noelle, I’m the proud father of six children – three girls and three boys. If you ask my wife how many kids she has, she’ll answer – one.
Any woman in my life has to be able to accept the baggage that comes along with me. Being responsible for your own luggage is a part of any trip. Even with air travel, you can’t just let your bags go before you. They have to travel with you. If you get off, they get off with you. I never lied to Cynthia about all the layers in my life because I wanted to be sure she could accept me for who I was. When you start off with all your skeletons out of the closet, it leaves a lot of room to hang precious memories with someone you really love.
Six years into our relationship, I have absolutely no regrets. I still feel like we were destined to be together. People can’t fathom seeing me without Cynthia or her without me. We were introduced to America as a couple, and it’s why millions continue to watch us weekly. If we’re not together five years from now, I know people will still be asking me, “Where Cynthia at?” So, I might as well stay with her ass and make it pop! The process of becoming one has been fucked up with all types of potholes, but we manage to stay on course because we believe there’s something better ahead.
Every day, we continue to work through the details. A lot of relationships can’t survive an ex-spouse and one kid. Cynthia and I are thriving, with a prized collection of six kids, four baby mamas and one baby daddy. We maintain open communication about everything. We are honest about who we are, where we’ve been and where we’re going.
Cynthia’s Direct Flight
With certain children, Peter is very firm, but he’s a lot more delicate and tiptoes around matters with Blaze. Of his children, I met her last. By the time it happened, I was aggravated and leery of why Peter kept postponing our introduction. I reached a point where I stop asking when or if it would ever happen. He didn’t push for it the way he did with his other children. There was definitely something shady about the delay, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Peter was so closed and treated that part of his life like an untouchable X-file (or ex-file I should say). He didn’t talk about it and rarely answered my questions. From the way he spoke of Blaze’s mom, she was someone he would have eventually married. A part of me wondered if they were still kicking it on the side. Peter and I would visit L.A. frequently, but he never offered to introduce me to Blaze’s mom. To this day, she is the only ex that I have never met.
I had consistently put all my cards on the table, and it bothered me that Peter seemed to be holding back. I wanted full access to all parts of his life – or at least equal to what I had given him. After two whole years, I finally met Blaze. She was very polite and very “Team Mom.” I allowed her to tell me what she wanted and let the conversation unfold naturally. I don’t liked being pushed, so I’m not in the business of prodding others to do anything that doesn’t come naturally.
I could see that Blaze’s mom had a shroud of protection around her by the number of times she called and the manner in which Blaze answered our questions. I wasn’t tripping, because I was guilty of the same inquiring behavior with Noelle. I treated my first meeting with Blaze as I’d done in my initial one with Bryce. I gave her space, did more listening than talking and didn’t try to become stepmother of the year in our first encounter.
After our trip to L.A., Blaze came to Atlanta and stayed with us for a week. She and Noelle got along well. I wanted her to grow comfortable organically in our home and around me. I work with people’s energy and what their body language tells me, so I only talked when she wanted, went along on errands if she asked and didn’t push. I wasn’t around her a lot during her stay, but in the time we spent together, I found her to be very smart and polite. I understood and respected her loyalty to her mom.
Her mom was her rock, and without having met her, I could confidently compare my style of mothering to Blaze’s mom. My degree of protection over Noelle seemed overbearing to Peter, so I would liken my style of parenting to Blaze’s mom to help him identify with why I was so guarded when it came to Noelle. Similar to Blaze and her mother, Noelle was my only daughter and child. As mothers, I believe we both took a certain amount of pride in being a constant and dependable support system for our children.
I go to great lengths to avail myself to Noelle. I accept complete liability for her life and her well-being. When Peter and I met, she was eight years old. She had a dad who was highly visible in her life, so I wasn’t looking for a father for Noelle. I was seeking a companion for myself. Other than loving her and being there when she needed him, I had no fatherly expectations of Peter. I have never asked him to take an active role in rearing her. Men like to feel needed, so I always knew he would rather be involved than not.
At times I think he resented not having a bigger part in her parenting. In the same vein, I felt he was relieved to have a pass because of all the other duties he had to juggle. Between running several businesses, traveling and fathering – Peter’s cup was already running over. Noelle didn’t need to be another variable in his problems. I didn’t want to overwhelm him with any more stress than he already had. Although I welcomed it, it was not Peter’s responsibility to play a part in my daughter’s upbringing.
Before we married, we discussed whether Noelle would call him Peter or something else. We agreed that using his first name was the best option. Both of my parents remarried after their divorce, but I only referred to my biological parents as “Mom and Dad.” I raised Noelle the same way. The thought of her calling Peter “Dad” was weird and off-putting to me. She had a dad who was alive and well. She didn’t need the unnecessary
confusion.
Noelle is fortunate because she gets the benefit of having two very different, but strong father figures in her life. Leon is a communicator who is very calm and Zen, while Peter is more cut and dry. Since they are total opposites, there are certain things Noelle will go to Peter about and things she will discuss only with her dad.
Peter and Noelle have an unspoken bond, and I’m amazed at how well she reads his energy. On a day when he’s funny and in a good place, she will invite him out to a movie. When he’s having an Oscar the Grouch moment, she will just opt to hang out with her friends. She loves distance and being in the solitude of her own space. In that sense, she and Peter are very much alike.
Knowing that Noelle enjoyed spending time alone and being in her own world, I allowed her to befriend Peter’s kids in the same laid-back manner that I had. Noelle was mainly concerned with her own interests, but I knew it had to cross her mind how Peter’s kids would affect her life. Titles have a way of making things messy, so I never shoved the notion down her throat that his children would be her new brothers and sisters. She naturally took to each of them without any urging.
Peter’s kids are amazing and I’ve never witnessed them be anything less than well-mannered and considerate. They each have unique personalities, but when they’re all in a room together, it works. There is never any pressure for anyone to be anything other than who they are. Peter definitely goes into Papa Smurf mode when they’re around. He gets a kick out of being the dominant, authoritative figure. My main goal is to keep the house clean and all the mouths fed. I’m the kind of mom who wants to make sure everybody has everything they need.
Regardless of what Peter has told me about his exes, I know that boundaries and mutual respect have to be present for blended families to coexist. The adults sometimes get caught up in the afflictions of their history, instead of the welfare of the children. I never allowed Peter to make things about his exes or me. My concern was always centered on what was best for all of our children. It’s a simpler way of dealing with a situation that, under normal circumstances, would be painfully complicated. Overthinking and pointless emotion is what makes it complex.
