Aside from the logistics of moving, my biggest concern is what will be my future relationship with B2’s kids. When a divorce happens, your parents are still your parents, but what will I be? I can imagine one of them trying to explain me to some future spouse to justify making the time for a visit.
“I’m confused. Now who was this guy and when did he live with you and tell me why is he more important for us to visit than my Grannie Fricket?”
I think the only way to handle this is to be direct and honest. I’ll tell them that I fully expect them to keep in touch by telephone, to respond to my e-mails, and to show up at least once during the holidays for my smoked turkey. I’ll tell them that when I die I fully expect all five kids to show up for my funeral. I expect the girls to be bitterly wailing and gnashing their teeth. I expect the boys to propose a toast drinking cheap beer in my name. I’ll tell them that whatever happens, I’ll have a spare bed for them to crash as long as they want.
That should suffice. B2’s kids are far too polite to blow me off.
When I first moved in with this family, I did some reading about how to deal with step-kids who were adolescent in age. The key piece of advice that I picked up was that with teenagers, you have to let them define the relationship and go from there. I took this to heart and it worked very well.
Predictably, the father figure role loomed largest for the youngest, Tenacious. He and I have been living under the same roof for eight years. I remember the time when he was a squirt and I could toss him over my shoulder and toss him in bed. He is the only kid of B2’s I ever had to discipline, not that that happened very often. B2 actually suggested that after his first year in college he could live with me in my new digs in New Hampshire. That way he could hang out with his high-school buddies. I’m delighted that B2 suggested it. Our relationship is close but not verbal. Grunts and monosyllabic exchanges seem to suffice.
“Hey there, I’m home. How’s your day?”
“Ok.”
“How was school?”
“The same.”
“Have you done your homework?”
“Yes.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Anything I can get for you.”
“Nope.”
This sums up about ninety percent of our daily conversation. We are guys who intuitively relate to each other. If we live together next summer, we only have to worry about delousing the place in the fall.
JayToo’s relationship with me is much harder to characterize. She loves her father but as a young adult has started to see the flaws in his character that probably undermined her parent’s marriage. She went through a lot of the anger that Adie did when I got divorced, but she had much more time to heal, and she is more resilient. Like Adie she is very private, and her feelings are on a “need-to-know” basis. She is great at sizing things up and spends a lot of time observing people.
One time, inadvertently while picking up stuff on the floor, I found some writings of JayToo’s that were personal observations. It revealed all sorts of existential questions, the kind of stuff that weighs heavily on smart kids minds after suffering through the writings of Jean Paul Sartre imposed by some high school literature class. I wanted to give her a big hug and tell her to ignore that crap, but I had already overstepped her privacy boundary so kept it to myself. I was pissed because I went through the same stuff when I was her age and I didn’t want some overrated and dead French author busting her bubble. She has her whole life in front of her. Let her do it herself.
Perfecto and I relate at a different level. Ours is not a father and son relationship. It is more of a relationship of a mentor. When he and I are together we typically launch into serious discussions either about current events, or something related to his academics. Perfecto is a natural teacher. He loves to explain theoretical physics, specifically string theory. I usually get lost about five minutes into the conversation, crack stupid jokes and feed him home made sushi. Perfecto isn’t big on touchy and feely conversations and happily floats through life on an intellectual plane. I do owe him a private correspondence of a “man to man” flavor to explain to him the circumstances that prompted B2 to move her family up north to live with me. It will be about my daughters.
I hope he will appreciate my reasons, and understand that this is the kind of responsibilities that you sign up for when you get married and have kids, regardless of how things go with your spouse.