Christmas Lost!

I'll never forget the feeling. Running into the living room and finding it littered with toys and wrapped packages. It was like bright sparkles running through my body as I tried to compute the fact that a stranger had been in our house and left things. Further enhanced by the fact that in their haste to distribute the parcels they only sampled the delicacies left for them. It was almost too much for my little footed pajama self to take in. Life was amazing.

But as fate would have it, that feeling was dashed the year my cousin in his zeal to be superior divulged information he had come across days before Christmas and apparently, I later learned as he was validating his information, was threatened with the penalty of death should he leak the juicy morsel before the holiday. I remember that flooding feeling as though all the blood was rushing out of my body and I was sure that if I looked down it would be puddling up around me. When I realized that the stranger hadn't actually devised a way to get my new desk down the chimney but it had actually been seen on the back of my dad's truck just days earlier, everything changed. Christmas became like one of those snow globes. No matter how much I shook, the snow always fell back down, anticlimactic.

Then I realized as I got older that there was a different sparkle. My kids! I could create a sparkle for them. It was what got me through. Christmas became the event to top year to year in preparation for the offspring. The tree got more elaborate and unique with ornaments from around the world. It became a contest to see how many strands of lights we could actually string on one tree. The packages followed suit. The paper got more expensive to the point we were 'adorning' each package with ornaments that matched the recipient's personality and would also highlight the gold foil paper we used for concealment. Oh it didn't stop there either. The champagne Christmas brunch became the event of the season and the neighbors would drive by endlessly to admire the clever way that we had adorned the house as well. And the pinnacle came the year my first born was the center of all that we held dear on the 25th of December. There is was. The bright sparkle feeling running again.

I had visions of my kids running in to find the delicacies eaten and their living room covered with their hearts desires. I was going to even smudge some of the packages with soot. I was going to take that bright sparkle feeling to a whole new level. The years prior to my children's arrival was only prepartion for what lied ahead. But that feeling was dashed again with someone with a different kind of zeal and an odd presence of superiority. There it was again. That blood puddled feeling this time accompanied with a room full of crying people and a strange man in a green outfit annoucing that my mom would not be attending any more of our holiday events.

It was from that moment on that Christmas just never recovered. My second borns Christmas wasn't as "magical" as my first borns. In fact I actually stole a Christmas tree on Christmas eve from the closed up church down the street, leaned it in the corner and threw a strand of lights on it. I didn't even have a stand much less gold foiled packages. As I sat there with my wife and my hungover dad and tried to distract the kids from playing with the paper instead of the toys, I realized at that point, I couldn't even shake the snow globe.

Christmas is about family. It's about tradition. It's about highlighting our disfunctions. And over the years the one that has been the most consistent is the latter of the three. My son is eight. It's interesting when children awaken to a new level and they come to you as a district attorney to enlighten you on their findings braced with tissue paper resolve to defend their theory. Secretly hoping you will win the litigation in disproving their argument. This is the year my son came to me with his case. He is resolved that there is no stranger leaving parcels in his living room. How do you argue that? With the Christmas's he's seen in his 8 short years. From his mom and dad yelling outside of dad's apartment on the Christmas morning after the divorce or having Christmas in January in the garage under a left over fake tree thrown together at the last minute as central focus to protect the gift that his heart had told him would be a basketball goal and not a skateboard. Just to name a few. Plus it's January anyway. He did Christmas with his mom in a strangers house in another city. Who knows if they even left delicacies out. That's the enhancer. The icing on the case! So there speechless with no defense, it happened. I stood there in his mom's driveway and looked down into my son's blue eyes and I watched silently as his bright sparkles turned into a snow globe.

31 Days

It's been 31 days....

since I saw my children's faces!
since I heard them laugh.
since I heard them cry.
since I touched them on their little hands.
since I saw the sparkle in their brilliant blue eyes!
since I ate a meal with them.
since I heard them sing.
since I snuggled them into bed.
since I sang a song to them.
since I played ball with them.
since I heard them tell me about their day.
since I had them sit in my lap!
since I made them fried chicken.
since I rubbed their little heads to sleep.
since I snuggled with them from waking up!
since I piled up with them in bed and watched a movie.
since I took them to a movie.
since I walked with them to school.
since I raced them to school.
since I went to Starbucks with them.
since I took them out to dinner.
since I felt their little hands on my face kissing me.
since I told them to their big blue eyes that they are beautiful!
since I told them to their big blue eyes that I am proud of them!
since I told them to their big blue eyes that I think they are brilliant!
since I told them to their big blue eyes that I think they are going to do great things!
since I told them to their faces that I love them!

Their mom thinks this is best.

I Want a Do Over!!

What do I need to do? Where do I start?

Remember when you were a kid in the throws of a neighborhood game of a life time and you realized in the middle of whatever major play you were excecuting that it wasn't going to work the way you planned? Back then screaming "Do Over!" immediately granted some sort of amnesty by your team mates. It was the magic phrase that, whether rightly or wrongly, brought every one to a point of re-evalutation instantly! No one was kicked to the curb! Everyone was still vital and still got to play because without them the game couldn't continue.

I want a Do Over!

There's a moment I remember so vividly in my courting days with my now ex-wife. It was in the middle of one Saturday afternoon in the fall. We were lying in my room which was basically a sun porch at my friends house. A room surrounded by windows on the back of his house and it was drenched with sun and colors from the leaves. It was one of those "perfect" moments. In my mind, even now, I can see Abigail propped up on on her arms, with her brilliant blue eyes sparkling like they always do. That sparkle is genetic. Because when my children smile from their hearts, I see that sparkle and the dagger twists just a bit more. Suddenly, we hear a rustling in the back yard as though some one is digging thru a pile of dry leaves. The sound was so intriguing that we were compelled to gradually rise up to the window sill behind the bed ever so slightly. It was as though the back yard had been carpeted with this jet black rug and it was shaking violently! There in the back yard was a flock of crows. All you could see were crows and leaves flying as they scoured the yard for food. We were frozen as though someone had just walked into the room that we weren't supposed to be in.

I can still remember Abigail's body frozen next to mine and the smell of Aromatics Elixir. The perfume was as intriguing as she was as well as the moment and I don't think I had ever been more in love up to that moment than I was then. I remember that "in love" feeling that was so intoxicating as if it were yesterday. I so didn't want it to end and I thought at that moment it wouldn't. But without warning, much like the end of our marriage, something startled the crows and with amazing synchronisity they took flight all at once. It was over. It was as though someone had grabbed the corners of a thick, black blanket and ripped it off the yard.

Now 13 years later, when our lives have turned into what seems like a dozen strands of Christmas lights all wadded together, I want a Do Over! I want to go back to that room and start from there. Or back to the aisle in the farmers market when I saw her reach for the Brie cheese and knew I was going to marry her. Or the time she took my breath away when I saw her walking out of her sisters house under an umbrella in a long black skirt with that sparkle that I could see thru the rain covered windshield. Or the day I was standing at the end of that long aisle and she was at the other end, standing two feet taller than her grandmother who would give her to me.

But for some reason when all your teamates grow up they forget about "Do Over". Scores are kept in stone and kicking to the curb becomes the way of life. I'm still yelling "Do Over" even if I am sitting on the curb. I still hope someone remembers.

The Rinse Cycle!

When I was a small child my favorite thing to do was to stand at the washing machine on a stool and watch the clothes go through the cycles. This of course was before the safety days when you could just leave the lid up with out some sort of device to "trick" the machine into thinking that it was closed.

At first my mom was a bit apprehensive but as with most parents when you realize that your fears are really unfounded and it occupies the toddler for at least an hour you cave in. I mean for heavens sake, there were no DVD's or cartoon networks. Geez, we only had 3 channels and 1 of those only worked if you stood on your head, held the antenna toward the southern sky and prayed. Even then it was full of static.

So there I stood for hours on end, yelling for my mom when the rinse cycle started and gleefully cheered when the whole process was over. It was during those years that the laundry was never ever behind.

I had a sensation today that was reminiscent of one of the cycles that was so familiar from my childhood. It was the cycle when the water starts to drain and the machine begins to spin to ring the clothes out. That slow gradual pull of the gears and the water starts to slowly drop out of the bottom and the centrifigal force begins to push the clothes against the wall as the machine spins faster and faster!

My phone begins to vibrate today as I am standing in the file room of my dead end, unfulfilling job trying to decide whether the file for "Jesus Sanchez, Juan" should go in the J's or the S's. I know it's a number I'm not going to answer because it is just that, a number and in the 21st Century if you don't qualify to at least make my phone list you certainly aren't going to get me to answer blindly. But this number sends my heart rate up a couple of knotches because I recognize it as Abigail's new land line! The moment I ignore the first one, they start coming rapid fire as if the world is over and I missed it and my ex-wife is heralding the news that I'm late for the Wedding Feast of the Lamb!

But with the possibility of jail time, 1 to 10 years according to the really nice lady who was in her dead end, unfulfilling job issuing restraining orders, I was resilient in my restraint in answering the call. But my ex-wife was just as resilient in her pursuit and the calls went from vibrating in my pocket to ringing in my office and all of my co-workers were screening calls per my request. After about three denials in the midst of this flurry of activity at work, one of my co-workers whispered in my ear between customers, "It was your daughter!"

After not seeing my children for over a month and only talking to them once, I caved and took the jail time risk because I realized my daughter was in the middle of something that she was too little to be orchestrating and I was furious with Abigail for allowing her to even be a part of it. On the other end of the phone, was my sweet little Alex's voice asking for Jeff Batton. It broke my heart. She didn't recognize me. It melted me to hear her little voice trying its best to be strong and adult in a world that she was treading in prematurely. When she realizes it me, she begins talking as though she's being chased and has just a few moments to get out a ton of uncomprehendable information. She's desperate for me to talk to her mom so that I'll understand that things are all better. I instinctively, because of the flurry of work around me, begin trying to explain to Alex what was happening when I caught myself and let Alex off the hook. I told her that I missed her so much and that I had to go because I was at work. She frantically responded with the most earnest plea she could muster to please talk to her mom. I calmly told her that that wasn't going to happen and then as I'm saying my good byes, I ask her why she wasn't at school...She was home with the flu!!!

The one thing that I did get from Alex was that her mom had gone to court and changed "the thing" and that I could come over for 2 hours every Wednesday and see them! You could hear Alex's excitement through her flu symptoms as if her mom had done something! She's going to LET me come and visit MY children 2 hours a week! 8 hours a month! 72 hours a year! I was doing the math and scratching my head wondering what I had done to warrant such actions. Sure I screamed at her sister! It was long overdue! I should have screamed at her unhealthy, passive aggressive actions, years ago. I hate that she drove off because I had plenty more to vent, I mean, say!

I'm being treated as if I'm a pedophile or something. Could it be there's some sort of tranferance going on to me from her issue's with her dad? I scratch my head again!

The kick in the teeth is that after our amazing time on the sofa where I thought Abigail and I had made a break through and things were going to start heading in a different direction, she proceeds to lie to me. I mean bold face lie! After she's sitting inside while I'm outside getting served a restraining order, she proceeds to tell me not to go to the hearing because we'll just take care of it with the child support court date at the same time. So like a big old "doof-ous" dog with his tongue hanging out, I believed her. Psyche! She goes to court anyway and signs into effect, not a 30 day restraining order, oh nooooo! This really nice lady in her dead end, unfulfilling job at the court house information desk tells me in her "scrumptious" Southern accent that "OH it's not a 30 day notice, it's one year!" No one in the world but Southern people could draw the word year out as long as she did!

With "year" still ringing in my ear, there it was! The rinse cycle! I could hardly stand up. My whole body felt like the rinse cycle. The centifigal force was so strong I didn't know which way was up! Now I just wonder if I will ever get to shout with glee that the whole bloody thing is over!?!?

Gauntlet Laid!

There come's a point in any situation where you can't go another step. An epiphany! Or a "pig pen moment" to coin a phrase. But whatever you call it, you come to yourself with such dramatic awakening that you can't or won't proceed another iota! That's the point I have reached in the never ending game my ex-wife and I call Tug-of-Ideal Parent Decisions for the Children-War! It's been riveting and spectacular! Each of us defending our cause and our territory with stealth like command. Both of us standing in our towers of righteousness gripping our flags with our bloody hands. The strawn bodies of casualties lying at our feet. Three to be exact. Our children!

So in that moment of awakening, I had to make a decision. The scene that came racing into my mind was set in Solomon's court! Old Testament! Two women screaming over one baby and a soldier with a sword. My heart went cold. I don't know which woman I was but I knew at that moment, the only way to win was to let go. Noble? Not really. Selfless? Hardly. But I knew that the outcome of our desperate game was going to be something that neither of us wanted and I had the opportunity to set things right. Or did I?

So I sent a text to my wife. Strong and manly, no? And requested a meeting. With sheilds at the ready she confessed that she had already launched a counter attack by issuing a restraining order against me! I was undaunted. I pressed on. Let's meet for drinks. She was still apprehensive. She was ready for a fight but willing to succeed with the stipulations that our "calm" ex-brother-in-law would be the mediator. Pouncing on the opportunity, I agreed and set the time but she set the location. It would be neutral. Switzerland, if you will, being my brother-in-law's house. And with that the tribunal was set.

I was there early. She arrived with a opened bottle of wine in tow which in hindsight was to my advantage. Wine poured. Sofa positions established, I began the summit. You could see as I began to pontificate my ex-wife began to relax. The results of the peace talks were astonishing.

My first statement in my address went something like this..."I give." Eloquent I admit but powerful beyond expectation! I went on to say how I couldn't go on anymore. That we were destroying the children and that I was leaving. She won! The white flag was being flown! It was these words that broke whatever it was between us. We spent the next two hours crying, laughing, crying, kissing, and crying some more. My confessions and repentance was met with acceptance and grace. It was one of the most powerful times we have ever had in our marriage. And like it or not, we're still married. We may have papers that state the contrary but in our hearts we are still connected in a way that we don't know what to do with.

The peace summit was successful. Successful in ways I could have never imagined. So now the wound has been lanced. The outcome is still yet to be determined but the good news is the game is over and the rope in our elaborate tug of war has been laid down.

I think our kids are going to start breathing again.

Dear Marla.....

So here's what happened!

I had given my piano to Andee and I was delivering it to her house. We were slowly backing the truck up. I was standing on the bumper and I told Jake to come and jump on the bumper with me. The truck was barely moving. I was standing there anyway and he was going to come grab the my hand and get on the truck. You know..Dad thing... His eyes were wide and bright and excited! Anyway, Kerri, his fearbased aunt, starts screaming at me across the yard... All I could make out was that I needed to tell the driver and she was talking to me like I was an idiot...and I snapped. I walked across the yard .... and she's rolling up the window... she's threatening to call the cops. I agreed. She should call the cops. I've been emasculated by her for years and I have bitten my tongue for the last time. So of course she drives off with Abigail, his fearbased mother, Jake goes up stairs crying because now he feels responsible. My friend Don and my ex-brother-in-law Brad are screaming at me...it just wasn't a pretty scene.

So today I decided that I couldn't take the tug of war anymore. Saturday Abigail usurped a decision I made about Jake and I bit my tongue. It was like my mother talking to me. Although my mom would have never talked to me like that. I have bitten my tongue with her and Kerri as long as I intend to.

So this morning when I was praying about it I saw a picture of the women with the one child in Solomon's court and I realized that we are about to or rather I am about to tear the children apart. The only way to resolve this at this point is to let go. She wins. She will never see it my way nor me hers. I have given her everything in the hopes that she would consider me or her heart would change but it hasn't. I have absolutely no control in my children's life and no say about anything. She of all people should know what it's like to be out of control.

I'm the one who is at fault here. I'm sure I am. I just don't know what else to do. I am destroying my children and the only way I know other than fighting her tooth and nail is to turn the other cheek.

She's going to serve me a 30 day restraining order against the kids!!!! I can't live like that walking on egg shells around her and wondering did I say the right thing or do the right thing or make the right choice or show up at the right moment or answer her questions right or do exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. No! I can't and I doubt many people could. Just imagine if you will that every, EVERY choice that you made regarding your children was in a fishbowl and up for scrutiny from Jerry and he likes you! Imagine it's...who's somebody who doesn't like you....you fill in the blank... you make a wrong choice or a right choice in your eyes and BAM! you could be served papers the next day at work!!!!!! Or the threat of losing them all together! I made a bad choice Sunday in someone's eyes and in the name of protecting my children I can't see them for 30 days. I would be curious to see how you or anyone else would handle it.

So there you go. That's what happened and that's where I am. Exasperated, confused, insecure and guilty and whatever else you can think of. Do I sound bitter?

Exasperated-ly,

Jeff

Me, Picture of