Everything comes to (s)he who waits....

But darn it if the satisfaction isn't there!
When I was a single mother, aged 26 with 3 littler than little people I somehow found some comfort in the thought that one day, I would see that my prize was greater. When I would watch the first one swan off with whichever new woman he had found, in his ever newer car, back to his own brand new house.. I would look at my babies asleep ( always so much more rewarding somehow!!) and tell myself that all was well, that I had the real treasure and was infinitely more blessed, richer and would be happier.
I wasn't happy for such a long time but let's face it the odds weren't good and on top of the extraordinary circumstances, the first one was just such a, hmmmmm, he was a ......so hard to find exactly the right word here...a - why don't you read on and give me a name in your comment? Anyway he was such a one of those.
I have to tell you that he was a bit gorgeous, to look at I mean....he is tall ( 6' 3") dark and incredibly like John Travolta, which, in his day, was gorgeous in my eyes but today is more than a bit smarmy and embarrassing in a ' what was I thinking' kind of way. He was funny, really funny and often had everyone for miles in uproar with his antics....but he hadn't a clue about the time and place and so often got it wrong, again in his youth that was endearing, today it is hideously cringeworthy ( hoorah for only hearing the tales second, third or even fifth hand) He is clinging on to his youth for dear life and is often seen in supertight Adidas shirts and leather wristbands ( H, I adore your polo shirts and slippers, even though you don't read this blog may you telepathically feel the love vibes ).
So, I found my sweet and naive self without said gorgeous in my eyes and funny man raising 3 delicious children, all of whom had varying special and frightening needs. The first one lived 150 miles away and the plan was that he call often and visit every other weekend......he did for a while, once or twice and then, well we were told that we just had to understand that he had a life to live and accept that he had important things to do and he would be there when he could. He could be there when nothing more exciting was happening.
My children were so little and had been so hurt already that I had to make it OK for them , I would tell them again and again that daddy did love them but something had come up and he wasn't going to be there, he would be back to see them soon though...you know the kind of thing.
Every christmas when I did it all, when I wept every Christmas Eve for 10 years because there is just nothing quite so lonely as putting stockings on babies beds, on your own and then sitting in the front room looking at the mountain of presents secretly bought and hidden over the months, all by yourself, the lights on the tree all swimming in a blur of the self pitying tears, I would wish that he could feel just a bit of the misery....I would imagine a day when he would have nothing and I could smirk and say "good". ( Not very christian but incredibly human desire I think)
Every time I told my children that he loved them, as much as he is capable of loving anyone, I longed for the day when I wouldn't have to, when they would be old enough and secure enough to see and judge for themselves how things were. The thought of that day helped me through many a miserable moment.
When I would have the appointments every monday with child psychologists and recount the week's terror and the revelations from the boys, when I would meet with teachers and social workers, doctors and health visitors, every time I would listen to these little people in their pain and fear and then sit, on my own with their words screaming through my brain and try and include him in what was happening, only to be told he couldn't hear it, didn't believe it, to shut up and leave him out of it, I would long for the day when it was my turn for the good stuff.
Every single parent who ever lived through the innocent and naive hero worship of their children, for an absent parent, must surely have known real hatred. To grit your teeth and say words that will soothe your child, to pretend to be excited with them when a visit really looks like it will happen. To gasp in admiration at a toy that you would never have the money for and is everything they hoped for when actually you're not very sure if the food will last the week, these are the things that we know are the real gifts, we make ourselves feel better when we reassure ourselves that we are giving what matters but bloody hell, if it doesn't hurt at the time. There is nothing you want more, when a little voice says " Oh my daddy bought it for me" than to yell " yeah, whoppydoo , the arsehole hasn't given me anything for your food though"
or when they tell their friends that he took them to a theme park scream "but I was there when you puked last week..remember? remember??? " But you don't, you say how lucky they are and mustn't daddy love them to have bought / done that and you pray, really pray that you get to be there when the bastard gets his dues.
My time has come. My children have seen the light, I never had to tell them, or show them or make them see how really ineffectual their dad is , I just had to wait ( a long time) for time to tell it's own tale, give him enough rope etc etc.
They laugh about him, if they talk about him at all. They never call him and try not to speak to him if he calls, and I get to see the look on their face as they roll their eyes and gesture their boredom while he prattles on about nothing. This evening he called and asked what they were doing for christmas......Jordan said
"Christmas? Oh hey, everyone is SO excited, everyone will be here. Jane is coming from America, all the cousins will be here, we're all going to be at grandma's house for dinner..its' weird because NO-ONE cares about presents, everyone is just excited about all the other stuff, the decorating, the whole family being here, being together.......it's going to be the best time ever."
PAYBACK TIME! And how did I feel? Sad......I knew that he felt it. He has a girlfriend who is, quite frankly, a lunatic, they hit each other, often, they scream at each other, always, and they break up, with boring regularity. He also has another child by his 2nd wife, he is now 6 and isn't allowed to see his daddy after an incident that he should never have witnessed, so although he has 4 children he may as well have none.
There is no satisfaction in any of this for me.....yet somehow I don't feel cheated. I still know that things could have been so different if he had put his children first. How much better if they were able to love him and be proud of him instead of finding him amusing and sad. I pity him, along with every other parent who never manages to grasp the vision, the knowledge that the children they bring into this world are the treasure. There isn't anything bigger to catch, nothing more rewarding worth chasing, there will never be anything more worthy of pursuit than a family. I saw my prize many years ago....... and it's value increases every day.