Summertime and the livin' is...

You'd think summer would be a time of unmitigated fun. Lots and lots of pool time. Farmers markets. Perfect weather. The annual Maine trip. Lots of extra time to do kid stuff with fewer constraints.

It all sounds great, but the truth is that summer is becoming a time of deep melancholy. The school year means a predictable routine both with the kid around the house and with a reliable school pattern. The summer, however, means a break in patterns. Camp throws different schedules into the mix — especially when it comes to the weeks at the beginning and end of the summer. The kid's mom and I also shift to more of a shared schedule. And this is where the real problem occurs.

We generally work well on parenting and scheduling matters when the schedule is reliable. When transitions occur, our communication moves into less reliable territory. Moreover, the differences in how we approach parenting really come into play.

As the switch to a week-to-week schedule approached, I told Buttercup about it. She seemed genuinely surprised. She asked why we would change schedules, and I explained that it's what we had agreed upon a couple years ago. I also reminded her that we had done it last year. She accepted that, but she still seemed a little off.

That feeling has continued a bit over the past couple of weeks. As the switch to staying at her mom's has approached this week, she has had a few bedwetting incidents. She has also seemed needier and much more sensitive, in her own world in ways that can be both adorable and frustrating at the same time. Apparently, this is just another case where our feelings are in concert, however, because I too have been a roller coaster of emotions and stress.

It seems I've also hit the point where I can't shut off my parenting side at all. The house is lonely without the kid, no matter how many people are around. The thought of not having to get her ready for camp in the morning brings no solace. In fact, I will end up spending much of my "down" time wondering whether I'll be called on for a pool trip (good) or an emergency (bad). This feeling is nothing new, and I've written about it before. What seems different this year is the depth of it. In fact, I feel the time away from my role as dad even more this year than in previous years.

The bright sides are few. I will be busy at work and busy trying to get a handle on things at home again. I will also have a bit more time to enjoy adult time. For Buttercup, the bright side is of course that she gets more time with mom. I can't help feeling, though, that her surprise at and questions about the shift in schedules are a sign of a deeper reliance on something else.

further thoughts on weekends and Father's Day

Another single-dad blogger noted the difficulty of making the transition from full-time dad to soloist for the summer. Such transitions can be full of nuanced emotions — from happy to have some "adult" time to melancholy and downright sad to see the empty bed in the kid's room — and if you're on a schedule like mine, the mini-roller coaster can hit every other week.

It goes without saying that you're always "on duty" when you're a parent. When you're a single parent, that constant sense of duty can be even deeper and thicker. This makes the times when you don't have that responsibility feel like even more of a let-down. The silence of not having the kid there is even louder. The emptiness seems even stranger. The (not) funny part is that it doesn't matter how much I try to pack into those weekends (or weeks for part of the summer); I still end up missing the kid and thinking ahead to what we need to do (or want to do) after she gets back.

This week, I felt melancholy rather than ecstatic when I went to get her. It was Father's Day, and I'd harbored a vague hope that there would be a card or something waiting for me. After all, I'd made a point of helping the kid get a card when Mother's Day was approaching. It didn't seem like too much to expect reciprocation, but I suppose it was. As a friend put it later in the day, there's a reason we aren't still married. And I suppose after all is said and done, if you watch the attention the "holidays" get, Mother's Day is practically sacrosanct, while Father's Day is an excuse for sales on power tools and barbecue.

In any case, Father's Day last year came with the first lost tooth. It came with a picture drawn for me that morning. It came with waffles. It came with the kid really starting to swim. It came with a trip to my Dad's for grilling out. Somehow, it all seemed more auspicious. We certainly had fun this year — playing and grilling at the pool with friends and family — but on balance it felt a little more melancholy.

I'm not really sure what grand point I'm trying to get to here. It could a rant about the way fathers are often seen as secondary parents, while mothers are revered. It could be a rant about the dynamics of divorce and custody. It could be another deep exploration of the ups and downs we go through as single parents — even when the rest of life seems pretty fortunate and good. Or it could be another entry in a blog that is partly an exploration of all of those things. It could also be just another acknowledgement that even great times come with mixed emotions.

Melancholy aside... Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there!

Grrrrrr -- the abridged post

Some ground rules for custody and single parenting:

1. Your child needs time with the other parent, and the custody agreement protects that time.
   
2. Every communication is vaguely like walking on eggshells. The slightest slip, everything breaks, and you're headed right into the same old anger and miscommunication.
   
3. You need your child to trust you, and to be able to talk to you when something questionable has happened.
   
4. You need to make sure nothing poisons how the other parent talks about you to your child.
   

Remember these and bite your tongue, because one of the most difficult aspects of custody, divorce, and single parenting is dealing with a co-parent who doesn't do their part in parenting the child the way you would like. Bite your tongue.