The Single Dad's Guide to the Galaxy: Parenting in the real world

by Roger McEwan

  One tactic that worked regarding logistics was to put all the children’s pick-ups, appointments, events and practices in my own electronic work diary. I do this even for the weeks when they aren’t with me because once when Rose and I swapped weeks I forget Rog’s piano practice. It also taught me that relying on my son’s memory is a recipe for disaster. Using my work diary in this way has given me a single place to check where we all are, where we need to be and what has to be organised and accomplished. The advantage of an electronic diary is that I can access it from both my laptop and my mobile phone.

  Once the after-school activities are done and dusted, all that’s left to do is empty and check lunchboxes, remove soiled clothing from their school bags, hang out togs and find out what homework they have to do. I used to police homework, but now they’re older I’ve made it their own responsibility. I’ve drummed into them over the years that the consequences of not doing homework affect them, not me.

  If I survive the first day of the school year and keep my children healthy, school days are stress-free. I’ve learnt many lessons the hard way but those are the ones that tend to stick. I envy those with the ability to learn from other people’s mistakes. That’s a talent I’d love to acquire.

  Reflections

  Make school mornings as easy and as relaxed as possible. There’s nothing worse than starting the day in a frenzy.

  Make sure you know what is required on day one of the school year so your children can blend in seamlessly.

  To avoid being left empty-handed when purchasing school uniforms, shop at least one week earlier than you judge to be ludicrous.

  Second-hand uniform sales are not for the faint-hearted. Go early and be prepared for battle.

  Single-serve food packs are a godsend for school lunches, despite the cost.

  Children like to malinger but they do also genuinely get sick. You need to become good at working out which is which.

  Putting all your children’s appointments in your own diary makes it easier to coordinate your world.

  Hope is not, and never will be, a strategy.

  17. The Ex

  The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.

  Eli Wiesel (professor, activist, Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate)

  I suggest you avoid the vast number of blogs written by separated or divorced men and women. While they detail the challenges of life as a single parent they also usually incorporate their own brand of self-help and dubious advice. They’re harmless but you often find not-so-subtle character assassinations of their exes. The following excerpt is from a blog rated in the top 25 by some internet mechanism for single-parenting.

  While I was going through my horrifically Jerry Springeresque divorce I did what any shell-shocked new mom with an infant who had been dumped for the office floozie would do.

  She may have real grounds for portraying her ex as philandering, irresponsible and selfish. She has impressively achieved this in a single sentence. But what the writer is oblivious to is that writing in that manner reflects just as strongly on her own character, if not more so. It’s completely one-sided. It’s like a court case with the defence lawyer duct taped silent, so it reads as pure revenge. There are two sides to every story. When you only get one – and from an archetypal poison pen at that – the account becomes uncomfortable and difficult to engage with. I tell my children – usually when they’re attempting to debate between themselves – that what you say reveals more about you than anything else.

  Technology has opened up new avenues for individuals to tell their stories, but it’s the speed from brain to the public domain that’s the problem. Any form of writing is better for being read, critiqued and proofed. Not only is the writing vastly improved, you get feedback from the perspective of a reader and that aspect is extremely valuable. A book, as a finished product, is miles away from its first draft – this book is almost unrecognisable from the first draft I completed years ago.

  The majority of blogs are closer to thinking out loud than they are to writing and I’m grateful my thoughts aren’t broadcast unedited. This book has been subject to numerous, merciless edits from myself and others. You shouldn’t throw the baby out with the bath water but sometimes the baby needs to be thrown out, sometimes all you need is the bath.

  You won’t find me subtly, or unsubtly, presenting my case as to why I was right and Rose was wrong in these pages. There is no right and wrong anyway. It’s all subjective. This chapter is my perspective of how Rose and I went from day one to something like day 2500. How we went from being estranged to something closer to old friends though not exactly old friends.

  THE COLD WAR

  The early days were difficult as our marriage didn’t end as a mutual parting of the ways; it ended like a volcano. Pressure over time slowly built to an explosion and explosions create damage. Thankfully, among the carnage that was raining down we both acted as adults. No one’s clothes were destroyed, golf clubs vandalised (we both played golf), or anything like what’s often associated with separations.

  I vividly remember weighing up what to do about our joint bank accounts. Rose had the ability, as did I, to clean them out. Not that there was a lot of cash to hoover up – most of our financial empire was tied up in the house, but there was enough. I could have limited her access with a call to the bank, but I considered that would say that I didn’t trust Rose to act responsibly. In my eyes that would have been as bad as actually hoovering up the cash myself and so I did nothing. As it turned out, it was the right thing to do.

  Before the dust had settled Rose and I had to work out the best option for our children. In hindsight this is a textbook catch twenty-two. The very time we were least capable of communicating rationally about the children, we had to do precisely that. The children couldn’t be parked for a few months or years while things settled down.

  One of the major problems with the law, and how lawyers are forced to apply it, is that it treats everything as property. Bizarrely, the question becomes: who owns the children? Or, how are you going to divide them fairly? I can now see how far reaching those early decisions of ours were. We were effectively laying down a railway track, and once the track is laid then that’s the way the train will go.

  If your relationship breaks up and you don’t have children then, as painful as it might be, after it’s all done and dusted there’s no reason to see each other again. Ever. There’s certainly no excuse for drunken accusatory phone calls, emails and texts, though they’re traditional.

  When children are involved decisions about how care is organised are critical for them and for your future relationship with your ex. Our fifty-fifty shared-care arrangement meant we had to trust each other. Clothes, costs, logistics, schools, sports and a myriad of other issues and activities had to be discussed, agreed and coordinated. ‘We’ll discuss and we’ll decide’ is the way a fifty-fifty shared-care arrangement operates.

  If one parent has the children the majority of the time then the majority of decisions should be made by that parent. In these situations the parent in charge can either employ a ‘we’ll discuss and I’ll decide’ policy or the more autocratic ‘I’ll decide’, leaving the other parent to like it or lump it. I can’t for the life of me fathom the logic of parents who don’t want to do the parenting or caring but still want to call the shots. They tend to be male with a massively over-inflated view of their DNA’s contribution.

  Rose and I agreed on most things, but there were a few areas that proved more difficult, such as after-school care, extra-curricular activities and sports. It didn’t take long to work out a range of compromises, which we put into practice to see what happened. At least I think that’s what happened. It was likely tenser than that but, with the logistics settled, we got on with life.

  The early part of the separation, which lasted roughly two years, were the eye-for-an-eye years. If eithe
r of us wanted, or needed, to change the arrangements then reciprocity was required, if not demanded. We hadn’t planned to operate that way, but we both suffered from selective memory. Each thought the other was getting far more than he or she gave. So it became easier to horse trade at the time rather than accept a dodgy mental IOU. (By the way, it took quite a few edits to get this paragraph reading impartially!)

  What Rose and I did brilliantly during the early years was take our conversations away from the children’s eyes and ears. The disputes, debates and discussions were conducted via email, text or when the children were out of earshot. I said all but I meant the vast majority, we’re only human.

  One discussion that bubbled over concerned a proposed transport arrangement to which I didn’t agree. Rose thought I was being obstructive and let me know this in no uncertain terms. It wasn’t a major event but what I found disconcerting, and intriguing, was that both Rog (ten) and Liv (eight) sided with Rose, even though they had no idea what we were vigorously debating. I assumed their logic ran like this – Mum’s upset and Dad appears to be the cause; therefore Dad is clearly in the wrong. Bad Dad! That was a lesson in keeping the children out of the line of fire.

  During the first two years, apart from the first few months when tensions were understandably at their height, we were able to wander into each other’s houses when we were dropping the children off. This made the exchanges relatively painless. Almost. It’s fair to say our relationship was on the cool side of cordial but what was absent for all of us was the stress associated with apprehension. The exchanges fast became routine and not potential battle scenes.

  GLASNOST

  When Rose moved back to Palmerston North and we resumed the week-on/week-off arrangement then the remaining animosity, mistrust and hurt between us faded and disappeared. I’m not exactly sure what happened. It wasn’t through a series of counselling sessions and most likely it wasn’t any one thing. We didn’t try and do anything differently but, on reflection, we’d been doing the right things all along and this created an environment that allowed it to happen when the time was right.

  Ironically, we were sometimes called the ideal couple when we were together, which proved we were able to keep our private issues private. Now we were becoming the ideal separated couple – although judging by the stories I’ve heard there isn’t much to beat.

  If you’re wondering what an ideal separation looks like in practice, well, on the surface there’s little to notice. In fact our routines are similar to what many separated couples do, but it’s in how we do them that the difference lies. Handovers are relaxed and we chat about what’s coming up. If arrangements need to change it’s now swings and roundabouts rather than an eye for an eye. I’m sure Rose owes me a few days but I’m also sure it’ll equal out in time. More importantly, I don’t care anymore. Maybe at one point she needed more time alone and I know for a while I needed more time with the children.

  The environment we’ve created means we’re able to do things that for many separated couples will sound impossible. Playing tennis doubles with the children or having family dinners – Rose even cooked once. We even went on a family holiday, just the four of us, as outlandish as that may sound. The major difficulty I had was finding hotels that catered for families without assuming the adults were going to share a bed!

  In short, I think we’ve become like reunited members of opposing armies. At one point trying our utmost to kill each other and now able to share a drink and similar memories. At some point you just have to let it go.

  What this doesn’t mean is that we plan to emulate Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor and reconnect. I was taken aback when someone asked me why because Rose and I get on so well we didn’t get back together. I guess it happens in some situations, but it just sounds wrong. In most cases like ours, the parents get back together functionally and logistically but not romantically. There’s a chasm of difference between the two. It also doesn’t mean that Rose and I don’t annoy each other from time to time, although I’m pretty sure we don’t annoy each other on purpose any more.

  MISS CHIFF

  An advantage of having a normal, adult relationship with your ex is that it makes it difficult for your children to play you off against each other. Don’t be fooled by their innocent, angelic faces – they can be as cunning as foxes if they see a chink in the combined parental armour. My children’s opportunities were severely limited when Rose and I started getting on better but they still nudged the boundaries wherever they could. Bedtime was a favourite.

  ‘Mum lets us stay up until ten.’

  ‘And?’ I said.

  ‘And,’ Liv says with a calculated balance of attitude and defiance, ‘we should be able to stay up here until ten.’

  ‘That’s right, Dad.’ Nodding, Rog solemnly adds his two cents as though his considered opinion makes the decision obvious.

  ‘Hmmm. I’ll think about it and let you know.’

  ‘When?’ Rog asks with the same solemnity.

  ‘Right after I discuss it with your mum.’

  ‘Why?’ It’s Liv this time. They’re tag teaming me and doing it pretty well.

  ‘Why not? You’re saying it should be the same in both homes so I’ll compare notes with Mum.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Yes, but nothing. Bedtime stays at nine until I’ve chatted with your mum.’

  ‘Fine.’ Liv uses the F word with a blend of impatience, annoyance and attitude. It doesn’t work on me but I fear for her future beau.

  ‘And by the way,’ I add, ‘if you’re trying to put one over on me, I’m going to squish you both.’

  Silence.

  They had, but I didn’t squish them – much.

  I also discovered that Liv – Miss Chiff, as I call her in these situations – had been far more successful in her manipulation of entrées. Let me explain.

  A popular restaurant we frequented both pre- and post-separation was the Lone Star. The restaurant served large meals, so I was reluctant to order entrées as the children then didn’t finish their main courses, forcing (yes forcing) me to finish them. They – in hindsight mainly Liv with Rog’s solemn silence taken as support – insisted that they always had entrées when Mum took them. Not wishing to appear as the meaner parent, I usually rolled over.

  Leap forwards in time and we’re at the Lone Star, all four of us, as a family for Liv’s birthday. After we ordered our mains we were presented with the upsell: ‘Would you like any entrées?’ Liv sat up with wide expectant eyes and Rose ordered chips and dip and the Lone Star loaf which, from experience, is enough food to slow down a horse or two. Liv was beaming and I had the opportunity to remain quiet. Unfortunately, for Liv as it turned out, while I had the opportunity to remain quiet, I didn’t have the ability.

  ‘I don’t order entrées, the children don’t eat their mains,’ I said trying not to sound too challenging.

  ‘Yes we do,’ the children cried in unison.

  ‘No you don’t,’ I said and I noticed that Rose was staring at me in what I took for astonishment. An ex’s stare isn’t as scary as a partner’s stare that contains the message that there’s a price to pay for whatever transgression has occurred and you’ll be paying for it later. Uri, my university colleague, tried the stare on me one day when we were working out who was going to send invites out for a shared lunch. Her stare was absolutely withering and I was impressed. But unfortunately for Uri all she got from me was laughter – and the advice that she keeps that look for her husband.

  Even so, I was now wishing I had just let it go. But I had misread Rose’s astonishment.

  ‘I only order entrées because they say you always do,’ said Rose.

  ‘I order them because they, actually Liv,’ I correct myself as the situation starts to dawn on both Rose and I, ‘says you always do.’

  Miss Chiff had been sprung, but she wa
s smiling like the Cheshire Cat. She’d got away with it for years. Ratbag. You have to grudgingly admire when you get done over like a dinner – or in this case done over like an entrée – by your own children.

  SUNSCREEN

  With regard to your relationship with your ex, I think the wisdom Mary Schmich expressed in a column for the Chicago Times (which was made into a song by Baz Luhrman) can be adapted very well. She said: ‘If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.’ Her logic is that most advice is based on experience and opinion. Sunscreen, on the other hand, has been scientifically proven to be effective.

  Using analogistic reasoning, if I could offer you only one tip for the future that will make your single-parent life easier, and make your children’s life infinitely better, then getting on better with your ex would be it. I doubt there are scientific studies to support my claim but to me this is simply self-evident. But for it to happen, you have to make an effort.

  This advice applies whether you’re in a relationship or separated (just change the word ex for partner). It’s in your children’s best interest that you have a solid adult relationship with your partner or ex, and I think this seriously undermines the regularly cited theory that staying together for the sake of your children is preferable. It comes down to one of my favourite questions: what are you trying to achieve? Happy, secure, well-adjusted children who don’t have to act as parents for their own parents is what I believe we are trying to achieve. If this is the case, then the question becomes a different one – what’s the best way to achieve that, staying together or separating? If you stay together to simply last the distance or keep other people and deities happy and your children live in an environment that’s less than ideal, I think you’re missing the point. It’s a marriage, not a sentence.