MOTHERING

Mentioning the Unmentionable

by Fern Kupfer

They have, my husband and his daughter, a personality conflict. At 16,she takes herself seriously. She is as intense, articulate, fierce andtenacious as a good trial lawyer. She has what we used to call in theBronx "a mouth on her."

He, of middling age, is usually mild-mannered, jocular, distracted.He has a basic sweet nature, easy to take advantage of and sensitive tocriticism.

Sometimes I wish she'd tone down. Try to bite back that temper andtoxic tongue. Just as I wish he'd pep up, pay attention to her so he'dknow when he was about to lose patience - something he is lately oftenwont to do.

One night they had a fight, a big one - big enough for him to takeher bedroom door off the hinges after she had slammed it when he'dwarned her not to. "I hate you," she yelled down the stairs as he walkedaway with his hammer and screwdriver. "I've hated you for years! And Ican't stand living with you!"

"I don't care!" he yelled back, commanding that she return to herdoorless room.

But he did care. He cared too much. My husband does not have thethick skin required to parent a rageful teenager. Later, when we watchedTV together, my husband was lost in his own thoughts. "Why does she hateme?" he asked finally. "What do I do to make her hate me?"

"She doesn't hate you," I told him. "She's 16." To my mind, thatpretty much explained it all.

"She said she can't stand living with me," my husband said, hischin set firmly, against anger or tears, I wasn't sure which.

"Seinfeld" was going to be on soon and I didn't want theconversation to take up the whole evening. Anyone who is in astep-family knows how frequent it is that conversations about thechildren take up the whole evening. "So tell her that if she can't standliving here, she can go live with her mother," I said casually.

"Good idea," my husband said. "I'm going to tell her just that."

I grabbed his sleeve. "Now, wait a minute," I cautioned. "Let'sthink about this." There are things that "good" parents are not supposedto say to their children: "you're stupid; you're clumsy; I wish you werenever born!" If you're a divorced parent with custody - "Go live withyour mother (or father)" is right up there on the forbidden list. "Iwasn't really serious," I said.

Well, maybe I was a little serious. Because, basically, this kid hasit good. She has her own room, TV, phone and enough clothes to sailthrough two weeks of school without a repeat performance. Shelives with two caring, dependable adults: A stepmom who reads all herEnglish papers, watches all her dance routines and lends clothes evenknowing they will end up on the floor; a dad who during seven years ofsingle fatherhood has endlessly cooked and carpooled and held her headwhen she was throwing up in the middle of the night.

Still, we couldn't say it. "You don't like it here, then go livewith your mother!" We could occasionally think it, but we shouldn't sayit. Children of divorce have enough problems without making them anymore insecure. Wouldn't the child-development experts agree?

I pulled my husband back down on the couch. "Don't tell her that," Iwarned.

After "Seinfeld," my husband started up the stairs. "I'm still veryupset," he said. "I'm going to speak with her."

My stomach tightened as I listened to him in her doorway. Calmly, hetold her he felt bad that his own child hated him, and he certainlydidn't want her to have to live with someone she hated. He said that ifshe preferred, "other arrangements could be made."

There was a silence. Then: "Other arrangements?" I strained to hear;her voice was small.

He said, yes, "other arrangements." More silence. She knew what hemeant; he knew she knew, and she knew he knew she knew. This dynamic,although confusing, is important.

He told her that he, himself, did not want to live with someone whoshowed him so little respect - especially someone who had "hated himfor years."

"Oh, Daddy," I heard her say.

"Oh, Daddy, what?" he asked.

"Oh, Daddy, I didn't mean that. You just make me so angrysometimes." She was about to start again but wisely stopped herself. "Ididn't really mean that I've hated you for years. Haven't you ever saidsomething you didn't actually mean because you were so angry?"

He said that, indeed, he had.

"I'm sorry," she added finally. There was some sniffling. I thinkthis was followed by a hug.

"All right," he said after a while. He told her that during theweekend, when he had the time, he would put her door back on.

"Thank you," she said politely. "I'd appreciate that." Well, of course, they still clash, my husband and his daughter. Anda girl with her temperament will not be permanently cowed by the threatof us kicking her out. But I don't think it was such a bad idea to lether know that if things become just too unbearable, "other arrangementscan be made."

God knows there are few enough winning hands that divorced parentsare dealt in this shaky stepfamily game. So is it so terrible if weoccasionally use our only trump?

Fern Kupfer is a novelist and writing professor at Iowa State University. She is a frequent contributor to Working Moms' Internet Refuge.

Family | Career | Art of Juggling | Single Moms | Health
Dad's Voice | Bookshelf | News | Recipes | Sports Mom | Discussion Lists
Business Directory | The Boards | Wisdom of Mothers | Postcards | Resources
Search | About Us | Contact Us |Advertising on the Refuge | Home

Copyright © 2000   Working Moms Refuge.