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Adult son will not accept my new wife….
12 Jan 2008 by Rod Smith in Blended families / 8 Comments
“I would like to reconcile with my son (30). He has children of whom I am very fond. Some years ago his mother and I were divorced after many years and my relationship with my son immediately thereafter seemed fine. A year after the divorce I met a woman and we married a year later. It appears that he does not want to be disloyal to his mother and does not accept my wife as my “primary relative.” He withholds the pleasure of my grandchildren from me. I have tried to reconcile. Are there some basic guidelines I can follow? (Letter shortened)
Your son apparently fails to see that loyalty to a father and accepting a father’s new wife does not necessitate disloyalty to his mother. He would, were he planning for the healthiest long-term outcomes for his children, regard embracing you, your new wife, and his mother, as absolutely essential.
His confusion expressed toward you, I’d suggest lies embedded in unresolved issues with his mother. If he can’t appropriately define himself with her, relating to your “new” family will cause him much discomfort. Issue your son a “here I stand” challenge. I will write more about this tomorrow.
About the Author: Rod Smith
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Verbal log-jam
When I was a boy I’d endlessly practice the fluent delivery of my name but it seldom flowed easily from my lips. As if it was new news to me, adults pointed out my stutter. Perhaps they thought I was beginning, at that precise moment, for the first time in my life to spit from the mouth, twist at the neck, jig my head back and forth trying to expel some inane statement log-jammed between my gut and my throat.
Idiots – always adults, children were surprisingly patient, – would make me repeat sentences as if a repeat performance of the humiliating uncoordinated gesticulations, my arms and legs flying in all directions, would make for an easier delivery the second time. That I’d just spent every ounce of energy trying to cough it up was lost on them. That I was already thoroughly humiliated was something to which they were blind.“Practice, practice,” they’d say as if stutterers simply didn’t speak enough. “Think before you speak. Now – try that again,” they would declare slowly and loudly as if I was stupid and deaf. These thoughtless people were ignorant of just how much stutterers do think. Too much – which is central to the issue!
If I’d known at twelve or thirteen that the day would come when I’d make a career of public speaking I might have strolled off a high-rise building.
Now it is quite easy to hide. I am very comfortable with crowds.
It’s asking driving directions or ordering food at a drive through where it gets tricky. Sitting in a cozy circle waiting for my turn to introduce myself sends my blood-pressure through the roof. The ticket attendant on the London underground can render me dumb after I’ve just spent days addressing a room full of graduate level adults about Family Systems Theory. I know. It sounds ridiculous.
I was almost immobilized the first time I saw Thulani put himself “on duty” in the event he needed to be my mouthpiece. He did it. No one asked him or appointed him. He just did it.
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Life in our beloved 122
If the inside of a house (outside, too, I suppose) is a metaphor of the lives of the people who live in it – which is something I once read somewhere – gosh, are we in trouble. Our house is a mess.
I consistently clean it room by room, thinking often of the legend that the Golden Gate Bridge that says there’s some guy constantly painting it. I feel for him. While I am sure the view is wonderful I must believe that the poor guy whose doing it daily from one end to the other must find the wind and the weather quite a challenge.
Our house is the same, but instead of painting from end to end and back again, I am the guy constantly cleaning, – and, it’s hard to tell.
Where I cleaned and swept and dusted and vacuumed and sponged and sterilized yesterday there are scooters and bicycles (boys), mail in piles (me), books (boys and me), newspapers (me), magazines (me), and socks (boys and Max, the Chihuahua).
Turn my back and the boys and Max are at it again – enjoying life as boys (and a dog) while I find being a cleaning lady quite an exhausting challenge.
There is a point of no return, I’ve noticed, or at least a point of the chaos where I feel compelled to let it all go for a while and I throw up my hands and join in the fun of trashing the place.
But when I clean I like to think I’m just like the guy painting the Bridge, which I can only imagine must be a slow and methodical task.
I do it room by room, starting at one end, the front, in the event that I soon lose interest – then, at least, the front room is somewhat in order. I push it (trash, magazines, books, socks, clothes) all back from the living room, through the piano room, then into the TV room until everything lands up in the kitchen.
Once it hits the kitchen I separate out what’s Max’s – he’s has his own set of toys with which he ruins the house – what’s Nate’s, what’s Thulani’s, and what can be recycled, dumped, restacked on bookshelves, placed in drawers, hung on a hanger, or filed in the “important documents” file I keep losing.
We moved into “122” (creatively named for its street number and which has had very few updates since it was built in 1886) when Thulani was about two – and I have been getting it in order ever since. Nate joined us in 2002. Max, in 2009. The house- attachment, at least for the boys and Max, is strong. When I talk of selling Thulani reminds me that Rhino, the husky that was on the run for nine months and returned to die within a few weeks after we reconnected, is buried in an Air France first class cabin blanket just outside of the kitchen door. Nate reminds me of where the fat goldfish is buried and Thulani ends the litany with his inability to think of living in a house without the large tree in the front yard where he has his brother (and Max) have “peed like boys” (and a dog) for the past several years.
So. I’ll go on painting and, before you send me letters about giving the boys chores and responsibilities and assigning daily tasks and getting on top of it before it gets on top of me let me advise that you are barking up the wrong tree (sorry, Max for the dog metaphor) because we do have all that in place and it does work here and there and off and on.
I know, I know. Consistency is the name of the game for parenting and let me tell you, the ONLY thing that is consistent here is the need to keep going room by room with or without the boys (and Max) to get this little bridge painted one stretch at a time so the world can see just how organized and decent our lives are here at our beloved “122.”
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Being a white South African can come with complications
Being a white South African reared under Apartheid is no simple matter. It permeated everything for me. While I do not pretend to have been a political activist, I was always cognizant that my privileges, simply a result of being born white, were unmerited, and most unfair especially when enjoyed at the expense of others who were not. I think this unsettling truth (for I took advantage of my station in life) was somewhat of a companion to me from the age of about six or seven.
I am regularly aware that:- I was discouraged from playing soccer in the “front” yard (in view of the neighbors) with the servant’s children. While this may seem insignificant in the light of other much more severe problems rising from racism, it was huge for me as a child on several fronts. I loved the children and I loved soccer even more. They were excellent soccer players.
- I did attend a segregated school as did almost all white South Africans while there did exist some church schools that were integrated even under Apartheid. I vividly recall my school principal scolding the entire student body (over a thousand white boys) because a domestic worker (a black adult man) was seen walking in the neighborhood wearing a school blazer.
- Although, by no means wealthy, I was waited on hand and foot by a full-time servant.
- In the late 80s I was warned not to pray publicly for Prisoner “Nelson” Mandela from my church pulpit.
- A member of my family did balk at my request that I bring black children to his home-swimming pool to swim.
- Even as late as 1987 I was embarrassed that a young black boy whom I’d “helped” in his squatter camp had shown up at my door unannounced. I recall wondering what the neighbors would think seeing a child arriving at the home for a social visit and not to work in the yard.While I am aware that these are piddly problems in the light of what millions faced under the Apartheid regime, I am also aware that these factors in my immediate environment “shaped” me into believing perverse things (like in my own superiority and in “their” inferiority) about persons of other race groups. More significantly, I am frequently reminded that my children and I could not have shared life as we now do if we were still living in the era of Apartheid.
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Location, location – remembering winter in August
We live very close to our school and church, so close we can hear the school bell from our kitchen and the church bells in my bedroom.
Sometimes we walk to both and we don’t see the car for days.
I like it. I like not having to get in and out of the car. I like not having to negotiate traffic, something as synonymous with life in the USA as Disney, Fast Food, and the Fourth of July.
That’s the upside.
We are a 10-hour-drive to the nearest coast – and, most of the east coast beaches are not worth the drive. The west coast, which has many wonderful beaches comparable to where I was reared, takes three full days of driving to reach.
Being landlocked is one thing but another is the weather. Indiana weather is erratic, neurotic, and downright psychotic.
Days ago I could’ve (but I didn’t) ice-skated across the street. Now, as I write, there’s a small lake in the street next to the sidewalk from last night’s rain. The weather is so brutal and extreme (it is as hot as blazes in the summers) that when we do drive anywhere (there are no grocery stores in walking distance) the streets are often full of potholes making some of America’s finest suburban streets resemble stretches of road you’d find in a rural stretch of South Africa’s Wild Coast. So, I am exaggerating but really not too much. Washington Boulevard is a challenge to drive right now, you have got to dodge potholes and loose pavement or, unless you drive a tank, you stand to severely damage your suspension.
But I do love living here. My neighbors are some of my best friends. My children are free and safe in the neighborhood and everyone knows everyone’s children. Even as I write Joseph (born a week or so before Thulani) from down the street has wondered into the house and it is quite likely he will eat with us, stay the night, and then wander down back down the street to his home sometime in the morning. His mom and I will talk sometime between now and nightfall unless he of course chooses to wonder off home and be gone just as quickly as he showed up.
Potholes and crazy weather won’t send us running, although we will drive to church in the morning – even though it is really close. I’m not sure I want to brave the elements which could be a snow-storm, an ice storm, the threat of a tornado – or a little or a lot of each. What else could you expect during March in Indiana?
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Ready to adopt?
If you wait until you are ready to adopt a child you never will because you will never be ready. The baby, and only the baby, will make you ready. Reading the right books will be helpful, but “ready” magically comes upon you when a real baby is sleeping in your arms or crying in the middle of the night. If you are not ready to change diapers – and I always am amused at the big deal about this non-issue – being unprepared will last only as long as a clean diaper. Of course you can go baby-stuff-shopping, get a room painted, stencil yellow ducks on the wall – if you know long enough in advance your child is coming. But painting a bedroom with ducks and rainbows and a pot of gold, and getting a truck load of stuff from your local one-stop baby emporium will only fill your home with a lot of weird and wonderful, and mostly unnecessary, equipment.
Children interrupt everything. It is the child who is really ready to teach you, whether you are or not. Once he arrives he will become the hub of all your scheduling. You will be fine with this because the child is not an interruption to your life but rather, from this point on, central to it.
The baby will make you ready and you can’t really prepare for the baby until he is breathing in the crib right next to your bed.
Life inside the Smith household
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8 Comments
carol
I have a simular story, but I am the widow woman dating the older widow man and it is a daughter who plays these games in my significate others life. I feel he makes excuses for her. We have dated for 13 years now. We won’t marry for many reasons, but this is probably his main reason his daughter and the grandchildren would be kept away. After 13 years I admitt it is hard to let go, but when issues arrises I pull away because I do not feel he is capable (jsut does not want to) the the Here I Am Stand. Should I be turning away? I am 46 he is 75, I love him. But I am begining to have fears. What if he dies? I feel I will be treated like trash. I have in the past. Sometime I think if I were able to leave now that it would save me some type of greif I would not be able to get over in my future. Its aweful feeling confused at age 46. All I do know is that I love him.
14 Jan 2008 11:01 am
Howard MacKinnon
Thanks for your wonderful insight, as with any form of life changing events we should always study and look for the right solutions and follow our hearts… and it is never to late to say “I am sorry” for anything! Healing takes time, but worth it when you can forgive others.
Thanks again,
Howard
16 Jan 2008 06:01 pm
Rod E. Smith, MSMFT
Thanks Howard, and may you be a source of encouragement to all whom you love…..
I’d suggest you go ahead and take the risks life is demanding of you.
Rod Smith
16 Jan 2008 07:01 pm
Kolette
I am on the other side of this – the “estranger”, I guess, and in my case, a “here I stand” letter would not settle the issue or elicit my sympathy or confidence … Two years ago, my father (historically emotionally/mentally abusive to the family, as well as physically to me) walked out on a 30 year marriage, leaving my sister (15) and brother (10). He moved across town, without announcing his intentions or paying adequate or consistent child support. He also refused to go to counseling, even though his job (minister) required it. For religious reasons my mother would not seek restitution or a divorce. He led everyone to believe he was “working on it”, and I allowed him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, last summer (closure, for me). A week after my wedding, he served mom with divorce papers, moved to a faraway state, and four months later announced he’d just been married and invited us children (I have 3 adult siblings) to “be happy” for him and visit his new family. He did not say any of these things in person, only by emails to all of us except mom. I wrote him back to say that given his behavior, I and my husband don’t want him to have any future part of our family’s life. My original family still has sporadic contact with him, and are still left hanging emotionally. For me, it’s not a question of loyalty, but of principle. While I do think psychological forgiveness is necessary, I don’t think my new (or original) family will benefit from being in relationship with him, even if he did actually apologize for the damage, and I can’t see how this can ever be a “by-gones-be-by-gones” case, nor can I see the decision I’ve made as negative when it’s had such a positive effect on my life.
19 Feb 2008 09:02 am
julie
I have a similar problem w/ two adult sons who will not accept my partner of 3+ years. It’s been over a year since we’ve spoken. The first 2 yrs. they accepted him & when we told them we were planning to retire to S. America (which had been mentioned many times before), everything changed. My older son insulted my partner & behaved very inappropriately & stormed off. The younger one just jumped on the band wagon & they completely wrote me off. From one day to the next, they were gone from my life. One of them moved to Argentina where my ex’s family is. When I found out accidentally, I tried calling & was told that he wasn’t there. I feel that I have been completely cut out of their lives due to a lot of malice from their father. Mind you, they don’t like their father’s partner either & now have a new little brother. Dad has always manipulated them thru money & intimidation so I’m assuming the reason he doesn’t get cut out is because he pays the bills. I miss them terribly & want them in my life – just because we live far apart shouldn’t mean the end of a mother/son relationship. What do I do?
17 Jul 2008 04:07 pm
Cos
My adult children want to control me. I would go visit my father on father day at a nursing home where he is currently living. Just 1o minute away my son and daughter claim to be to busy or they said that they have nothing in common. Therfore that is why they claim of not visiting their grandfather or grandmother.
Fourth of July weekend I have been doing alot of thinking especially my son that wish me dead because I caught him telling his cousin to F word me.
My heart has been sad ever since.I have purchace a car for my son so that when he graduated from high school he would come over to Cape cod and start a bussiness in plummeing all of the tools including a master plummer to help him get started was waiting for him. Instead he decide not to honor his promise . He stop paying for the car. My credit financial call me that 3 payment were not paid. I anitially made a trip to pick up the car so that I can protect my own credit.
My son and daughter has been all along playing game with me. I have no trust in them because of what they have done to themself and to me that all I wanted was the best for them . But they throw it away just like that. Now they have their own kids and are not doing well. I fear going to where they live because their mother all live together in apartment they all share. They call other family member to investigate me if I was in town visiting a brother of mine that has Parkinson, my father that is 84 years of age. If they are to busy to visit their grandfather . I told them that I am also to busy to visit them. I wish something could be done. I wish for peace and harmonylive and let live
06 Jul 2009 07:07 am
Cos
My daughter for four year has been saying that she is saving her imcome tax return. So that she can vacation with me spend time with me. I have always welcome that so that we can all get to know each other especially the grand kid. My wife and I would start making preparation for their arrival. I would cancel my own vacation and doctor appointments.
When the time come for them to they would cancel it. Because at the last minute she would tell me that she has not have enought money to make the trip . I would offer her meet me half way and I would match it.
Some how she is expecting for me to spend hundres of dollar a day for a hotel for her and the kids to stay.
I do not feel conforable with it . Only have enought for my own self. I cannot support her or her lying to me.
My relationship with her has been declining.
She feel that I owe her. She acknowledge that she had a great appurtunity living with me in Cape cod, MA she decide to leave me after 2 weeks because she claim it is to boring but in several conversation reminding her what she have done she said she wish to turn the clock back. College was paid for she trow that away. She would have been working with me she throw that away to. when her aunt call her on the phone and told my daughter that she miss her.
My daughter travel to New hamshire after she decide to leave me, to trash my intergrity to other family member. But after she got involve with a man practically the same age as me.had 2 kid out of weblock he left her or on and off unstable relationship.
My daughter is now 28 years of age. she has a twin brother . twin brother oldes son dallas wounderfull kid from a prior relationship broken up after she landed in prison for unknown reson. my son has been in and out of relationship. My son girlfriend claim that her kid are of my son DNA came out negative on one kid. the other kid DNA was not done because I believe that my son has gotten attach to this baby. Every year on Christmas,thanksgiving, birthday my wife and I drive over or we send them card and gift. It is never enought. When they investigate me or found something wrong they would trash me like dirt. I am feeling tired of it that I distance my self more and more. I have no trust in them. My older daughter has a relationship with a lesbian girl with whom she also has a man in her life bi lesbian. I am catholic having a hard time accepting her relationship because it is not stable iether. But she want me to accept her kids too.
If my kid does not want to have respect for me. I wish not to tolorate their unstable behaviour. They are welcome to visit me.we will spend time lunch dinner.
But I will not support their life and they will stay in a hotel because I have trust issue with them with spying on me so that they can trash me later on when something does not go right for them.
06 Jul 2009 08:07 am
Nanette Knight
I have a situation that is so out of control I have no idea what to do. I married my husband in June and bot of his adult children have been so cruel to me it is pure torture. Their mother, suffers from Bi-Polar and sychoprenia (sp) My husbands daughter has been diagnosed also. Now his 19 yr old son is exibiting signs of the same disease. In fact he was here for two days and put hair removal in my conditioner and by the time I found out, my hair was gone to the root. I have had death threats and now his son is making my husband choose between me or him. His son is in the Marines and 10,000 miles away. I feel so crushed an destroyed at the moment. I love my husband and his children don’t even know who I am or what I am about. Please help me. Nan
15 Nov 2010 05:11 pm
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