It’s never enough just to love, for love is fickle.
It’s never enough just to embrace, for we must also tickle.
It’s never enough to think it’s enough – for beyond the perimeter of possibilities is satisfaction – lying in wait.
It’s never enough to do your best: The one who didn’t do it would have done it better.
Satisfaction is like a helmet of gnats. Impossible to pinpoint, it makes you uncomfortable, and you never feel ownership.
The puppy is cute. She’s adorable in fact. If she could just learn to signal when she needs to go outside that would be great. Cleaning up is tedious and gross. Just let me know, Babe. I’ll take you out. Of course, I could just take her out every 15 minutes. That would work. That would also work wonders destroying my life, and the ownership of said life which I desperately attempt to maintain. But do we ever really own our lives?
Father Gene said: Until you give your time you don’t own your time.
I am trying to own up to that philosophy, but I have no time to give. It is all owned by ‘the others’… who scarf it up like pilgrims to land.
I would gladly give my life for the people I love. This became apparent – like a softball sized tumor – during The Divorce. The divorce process was one of complete disillusionment. I don’t know if anybody can really appreciate what it is to go through a custodial divorce. All I ever cared about was my child. I would do anything for her, but the cards were all tainted. They still are.
The hardest thing to convey was my experience – as the mother of my daughter – and the primary caregiver for the first 6 years of her life. Twice a week I would be in the stands during swim team practices, just me and the other moms. Every Saturday I would take her to dance class and sit outside and chat with the other moms. On Sundays we would go to church – just the two of us – for years before the divorce began. I would wait outside after school – with the other moms – for the bell. Then my beautiful daughter would come running to me. I would pick her up in the air, and we were elated to see each other. On nice days I would bring her to the park. There she would run, climb and swing. I stood watching and occasionally helping her along, alongside the other mothers.
I love my job but it doesn’t pay. It does have a flexible schedule which allowed me to spend all this time with my daughter. While I will never get the time back, it is part of my permanent karmic record of devotional love.
Unfortunately, the courts don’t care. They didn’t even want to see it. I asked the GAL to speak to all these people – professionals – whose lives intertwined with my daughter. I gave them all the contacts, but they actively ignored them. Meanwhile, I was spending 9 out of 14 days without my daughter. She was suffering, and it was apparent. I could only hope to heal her suffering by keeping the battle subdued. I did my best, but the vortex spun a life of it’s own.
It was clear to me that a father’s place is at work. The mother’s job is to bring up the child. I had defied this norm, and was told by The Powers That Be: Too bad. Go out and make more money so you can pay more child support. That is my function. This was the pill I needed to swallow, but it got caught in my throat and I spit it out. The legal system has no right to keep me from my child. No matter how twisted she may be, I have no right to keep her from her mother. Why isn’t my parenting time valued – more than custodial contributions – by the courts? The courts emphasis should be a battery of tests to find out about parental emotional stability. That is all. If there isn’t a problem, then custody should be shared equally. In fact, even if a child might perform better in school living with one parent, this is mutable. Placing emphasis on things outside the home to decide ‘best-interest’ custody is just a venom-spewing, bloodsucking, demonic modus operandi. It is like having an affair to decide whether to stay married. The parents are the authority. When the courts take parental authority – including equal time – away from parents, it is inherently bias and the antithesis of child-advocacy.
Any system which values the money a father can give to the mother, in lieu of the love and attention the father gives to his child, is nothing short of perverse.