Lo! Behold!

My children are with their father this Christmas.

We alternate Christmases. On odd years the boys are with me up until the day after Christmas and then go visit their dad for the rest of the break. On even years they are with their father for the entire holiday break. Or as much of it as he wants or can do, given the constraints of his job and the fact that he has a new family as well.

It sounds very legalistic and antiseptic. Because it is. It is part of a child custody arrangement. Which was hammered out by lawyers who do that sort of thing for a living. It is in no way, shape, or form ideal. But it is what it is.

And you have to deal with it.

We celebrated our Christmas last Friday as the boys left to visit their dad on Saturday. This arrangement entailed their missing two days of school before the official holiday break ensued, which meant I had to write a letter to the school explaining their absence as best I could. Unless illness, education, or a death in the family is involved, the school really doesn’t want to hear about it. As a parent – and as a divorced parent whose ex-spouse lives several states away – I tend to feel that there are other reasons a child might miss school. Like being able to spend more time with the other parent.

It is not as if the boys were really going to miss anything. They were not missing big tests or midterm exams or even any major assignments. In my experience, the day or so or three before holiday breaks is spent with assemblies and watching Finding Nemo. This year there was even a two hour delay for arctic frigid temperatures thrown in. As a parent, I feel that I should be able to decide when my children can miss school, if I so deem it appropriate. I mean, it is not as if they were going to Disney World or playing hookey. They were going to spend time with their father. If you want to call that an “unexcused absence,” then fine. So be it.

I mean, it is not as though I actually “like” or “enjoy” my children being gone. But it is the price I have to pay in order for them to live with me during the regular school year. I understand that they want to spend time with their father and he with them. I get that. It is completely understandable. And good. But it does not mean that it is easy for me.

It also means that I pretty much have to forgo every major holiday. According to our custody agreement, they may spend every single Thanksgiving break with their father. Don’t ask me why this is: at the time, I was trying to find a few extra days to put on his side and I really didn’t like Thanksgiving and he tended to have it free. So, fine. Thanksgiving break it is. And then there is the alternating Christmas thing. And then Spring break, which seems to always coincide with Easter here. It didn’t in the state where we made our custody agreement. And then as much of Summer break as he wants.

If it is important to you to have your kids live with you during the school year, then you have to be willing to compromise. For me, it meant giving up most holidays. It also means I don’t really like holidays anymore.

You could say I am a baby.

Or that it would still be a holiday whether my kids are here or not. Which, of course, technically is true. But somehow, holidays without one’s children really just don’t seem like holidays. I would almost rather forgo or ignore the holidays totally. But then I guess I would really be a baby.

But it is still hard.

I want my children to see their father. I want them to have fun holidays. But it is still very, very hard for me when they are not here.

We celebrated our Christmas on Friday. This meant some scrambling on our part to get things ready in time, almost a whole week early. But we managed. Tree bought, set up, and decorated. Presents obtained, wrapped, and placed under the tree. Lights put up outside the house. A wreath on the front door. Traditional decorations inside. A holiday meal, in accordance with the wishes of the children in this case, met. A celebratory dinner of shrimp cocktail, buffalo wings, and pizza. And then the unwrapping of the gifts. Christmas music playing softly in the background, lights on the tree shining brightly.

My younger son, who is fourteen, actually said to me on Friday morning: “I don’t think we should have to go to school today. It’s ‘Christmas,’ and you don’t go to school on Christmas.”

I had to stifle a laugh. “You are already going to miss next Monday and Tuesday of school because you are leaving early for dad’s,” I said.

“Oh. Right.”

We had a tradition when the boys were young that they could each open one gift on Christmas Eve night. So, on Thursday night, both boys, now fourteen and sixteen, asked me if they could open one gift, since really this was “Christmas Eve.” I said no. More so because I hadn’t yet wrapped any gifts than that I was a curmudgeon.

Very, very early on Saturday morning, when it was still very cold and dark, we set out on the drive to meet their father for the holiday break.

Twelve hours later I would be home again, alone.

I will not lie. It is very, very difficult for me to do this. I do not think I am some great martyr or angel. I think I am the parent who has the children living with her for most of the year and the other parent has the holidays and breaks. I am sure the other parent is not very happy about not having the children living with him for most of the year. I am sorry that we are divorced and that our once whole family is no longer. At the same time, I cannot imagine it differently. Doing the right thing is not always easy and simple.

At the same time, I am a human being and I have very human, very real emotions. Which I try to contain as best I can.

I am not a total Scrooge. I mean, I have a life, with or without my children, and if I chose to ignore all holidays, that would be wrong.

So, I listen to Christmas music on the radio and in the house. (Handel’s “Messiah” is playing in the background as I type up this posting.) I send out Christmas greetings. I look forward to receiving Christmas cards and family photos and letters in the mail. I watch old time sentimental Christmas movies on TV. I touch base with friends who are in town visiting family. I will go to Christmas Eve mass with my mother. We will have a small Christmas Eve celebration, sitting around our tree, unwrapping one last gift. We will spend Christmas Day with friends.

This is all good. I am thankful for all that I have and for my two wonderful children, who are teenagers and drive me crazy at times with their teenagedness. I am hoping that they are enjoying a wonderful Christmas with their father and their other family.

But I still miss them. And I think it would be really strange if I did not.

Lo!
Behold!
A child is born.
They call his name Emanuel.