there will not be enough boxes  

someone here wrote a blog about shifting her attitude from self pity to becoming motivated and helping her kids. 

i liked her blog and related.  i also wanted to let her know that things change and before she realizes it, she won't be realizing it anymore.

this is what i mean.  

i've been divorced for four years.  it was a difficult divorce and it's been a difficult post divorce.  he is a bad ex.  doesn't pay child support, rarely sees his kids, doesn't believe in being on time, doesn't show for important kid functions, rarely speaks to me and when he does it's always cruel.  

it's been tough financially for me to handle two kids, a house, a car and life. with zero help on his part.   it's been tough emotionally because he doesn't seem to care when our kids are sick or when they get picked for a play or when they lose a tooth.   it's been tough in every possible way.  he rarely answers the phone when he has the kids so i can say goodnight, he fights with me over everything, but is never there to help with anything.  

it's been a hard four years.   

but this thanksgiving i had family and friends around and cooked and ate a traditional thanksgiving dinner and went out and bought a traditional live christmas tree and decorated it with our not so traditional ornaments and ate cookies and chased my kids when they both stole a pie each and ran into their rooms to hide.  

and i didn't think about my ex or his horrible horrible-ness, even once. 

not one person asked about him.   he wasn't missed or even discussed or even thought about for one moment, by anyone.  

for my kids, that's probably sad. but they didn't seem sad at all. they seemed happy and giddy and kid like.  

for me, that's a good thing.  not that i've pined away for him for four years, because i haven't.  as soon as i realized what he had done, and how he was acting about it, i lost all feelings for him.  at least all good feelings for him.  they were replaced with distrust and disappointment.  never hate really.  i've always been supremely disappointed in him.  even before we divorced.  but more so after.   and from the moment he said the word divorce, i was immediately disappointed for him. i knew what he would be losing here, even though he didn't.

the thing about loving someone who is a disappointment is that it's similar to loving an addict.  they have to 1. admit they have a problem and 2. want to get help.  the same is for the men and women out there who are just chronic disappointments.  you love them despite themselves.  and when they fail you, you sort of always knew it was coming, and you sort of forgive them and chide yourself instead.  

i mean, i knew he was going to disappoint me as a husband.  and i knew he would be a disappointing dad. i knew in my gut.  and i proceeded to marry him and have two children with him?  why? because i hoped.  i hoped he would somehow, like an addict, have his moment of clarity along the way, and stop being a disappointing human being.  

i was wrong.  

but, i'm also over it.  

my kids still have an entire lifetime ahead of them of witnessing dads disappointing-ness.   but i've grown to accept it for some reason.  this is who he is.  he is a disappointing chap.  he can't help himself.  he isn't equipped to be a better person for some unknown reason.  

i hope someday he does have his moment of clarity or hits bottom or whatever the term is, for his kids sake, i hope he does wake up and become better.  

but the moments that are cherished by everyone worldwide... those impossibly quick moments of toddler-hood and firsts are gone for him.  he's sees quick glimpses of the treasures he will never experience when he picks up my kids and i see his eyes scanning, furiously, around my house. 

he stops at framed photos on my bookshelves and stares....at his kids....at his children discovering something, smiling about something, reaching for something.  he sees the firsts all recorded in blown up photos, 8 1/2 x 11, framed and just everywhere around my house.   

he sees black and white and bright color, close up photos of his children being happy, being loved, being silly, being mad, being sleepy, being cranky, being kids.  i watch him as he looks at these pictures.  i pretend i'm not. but i do.    

i realize that his experience as a father is similar to that of a museum visitor.  we go to the museum, we see the beautiful artwork displayed behind glass walls, but we can't touch. we don't really understand what we are looking at or what is really going on in the picture. we don't have anything to do with that artwork, we are just looking at them.   he is witnessing his children's childhood from afar, from behind the red rope, close enough to almost touch it.  

he's not a part of that.  he missed it.  his parenting experience is not real.  he brings his kids to his girlfriends house, in his girlfriends car and feeds them food his girlfriend bought.  he plays with them a bit and then brings them home again.   he is a visitor to them...and they are not really part of his life. 

he doesn't get to parent. not real parenting.  he doesn't get to punish or hold a crying son when he trips and falls or put on band aids or clean up ten thousand messes or fight over bedtime.  he experiences parenthood a la disney world.  it's not really real. it's a fantasy full of one night every other weekend, kids on their best behaviour, no real parenting needed.  he's basically a babysitter.  

and even when/if he stops being a disappointment, he will never be able to get those moments back.   he has missed out on something that is irreplaceable and there isn't anyone who can fix it. when he looks back on his life, his parenting memories will pale in comparison to mine.  he will have enough to fill a small box.  there will not be enough boxes in the world to contain mine.

he took many things from me when he cheated and left.  but i realize now, what he left me was far, far greater than what he took. 

and naturally, i am disappointed for him.