They’re making a mockery of my marriage.
Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here.
Dear Care and Feeding,
Recently, one of my children came out as polyamorous, telling me that they and their partner have been in an open relationship for more of their nine-year relationship than not. Frankly, I am disgusted by this and disappointed in my child and their partner, but I need to get over it because I love them both and it’s their life. But how do I move on? Am I allowed to ask to not be drawn into being involved with anyone outside their relationship with each other? I am so angry. I feel like they’ve made a mockery out of my marriage (and yes, I know it’s “not about me” but how do I get there emotionally?). Everything I’ve read in my efforts to make sense of this just makes me angrier and more confused. I don’t want to ask them any questions about what they’re doing because it feels like I’d be asking about their sex life (and yes, I also know it’s “not all about sex,” but, again, that’s what it feels like). I’m doing my best to be—to pretend to be—OK with this, but I’m afraid my anger and disappointment will show through. Please help me be a parent of 2024, not the 80s sitcom parent I’m starting to feel like.
—Open is Not for Me
Dear Not for Me,
Open does not have to be “for you.” You don’t have to approve of it or even understand it (though bonus points for trying). You just have to not be a jerk about it. Don’t make your adult child’s choices—your adult child’s life—all about you. They’re not making a mockery of your marriage by being poly (they’re not even making a mockery of monogamous marriage in general—I mean, unless they’re, you know, making fun of anyone who isn’t poly). They’re just living their life. If the way they’re doing that makes you this angry, it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself: We don’t get this enraged by others’ behavior (that’s right, not even our own children’s behavior) unless it’s speaking to some deep, dark feelings of our own. Ask yourself some questions. Like: Are you happy in your own (monogamous) marriage? Do you feel like you’ve “stuck it out” for the sake of your kids, or for some other reason, and not because it’s been good for you? Is it possible that your child’s choice to be non-monogamous makes you angry because such a choice was never a possibility for you? (Try not to get defensive. Just pose the questions—that’s all I’m asking you to do.) Your kid’s life—all of your kids’ lives—are theirs to make of what they wish; their choices are not a referendum on yours. I think coming to see that is how you get to be “a parent of 2024.”
Want Advice on Parenting, Kids, or Family Life?
Submit your questions to Care and Feeding here. It’s anonymous! (Questions may be edited for publication.)
Dear Care and Feeding,
I have a 12-year-old daughter who just finished 6th grade. At her school, they’re only allowed to wear natural nail polish colors in 6th and 7th grades (i.e., shades close to their own skin tone). Now that school is out, she’s begging to get fake nails or at least some press-on nails with fancy, colorful designs. I’ve offered to paint her nails any color she likes. I bought her a manicure kit and a bunch of fun polish colors. I even offered to take her to a salon to get her nails polished. She insists that she wants long, fake nails. We cannot discuss this calmly with each other. I think she’s too young for long, fake nails, and I think the designs she’s drawn to are highly impractical (and kind of trashy? I think that’s the wrong word, and it’s highly charged, I know, but they’re really ugly). I’m trying to be understanding and support the things she’s into, but I’m kind of at a loss here. Do I just let her do this and bite my tongue? Do I tell her this isn’t age-appropriate and stick to my guns? I have lost all perspective.
—Nail-Biting
Dear Biting,
Oh, 12 is rough. I feel your pain and your loss of perspective. (We lose perspective because theirs has so suddenly shifted! A minute ago, they were playing let’s pretend; now they want stiletto nails. I remember my own kid at that age wanting stiletto heels. And to wear a strapless gown to a big party I was throwing.)
Here’s what I figure: If you let her have insanely long (not to mention hideous) nails once, she will quickly tire of how impractical they are. For one thing, it will be hard for her to use her phone. It will be impossible to pop open a can. Etc. But you know what? Even if she doesn’t mind the loss of dexterity and convinces herself that the beauty (and grownupness) of coffin-shaped long nails more than makes up for the inconvenience of them—well, so what? This dress-up game will come to a halt when school starts again (hmm, I wonder how much fun she’ll have playing in a pool or at the beach this summer with super-long nails). I would certainly not pay for salon acrylics; go for the press-ons. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re ugly (or even “trashy”). If you can, try to remain neutral about this. They’re her hands, after all.
Alas, it’s time to start picking your battles (and, indeed, choosing what to think of as a battle)—because this is just the start of a long string of them if you let yourself get pulled in. Step back from the heightened emotions around tweenagehood. Identify the crucial issues—the ones having to do with her health, safety, and well-being—and don’t sweat the small(er) stuff. (In the end, I did let my 12-year-old wear a long strapless dress to my 50th birthday party—we had to take it to a tailor for a footlong hem, as I recall—but I said no to the stilettos, for fear she’d fall and break an ankle.) Good luck to you. The next couple of years will be hard on both of you. But you will have a softer landing on each new and different challenge if you ask yourself this simple question: Why does this matter to me? If the answer is “because it puts her in danger,” take a stand. If it’s “because I just don’t like it,” or “because I wouldn’t have been allowed to,” or, “because I’m afraid other parents will judge me for it,” or even “because it’s so not how I raised her!” (I still wince to recall that I refused to let my daughter shave her legs when all the other girls in her class were doing so, not only because I deemed her too young, but because I was determined to raise a feminist—which I did, regardless, and which had nothing to do with shaved or unshaved legs), maybe just sit down.
Catch Up on Care and Feeding
· Missed earlier columns this week? Read them here.
· Discuss this column in the Slate Parenting Facebook group!
Dear Care and Feeding,
I was suddenly widowed in late 2019. In early 2020, my best friend, “Taylor,” had to track her now-ex out of state to get a divorce after he walked out. For practical, financial, and emotional support reasons, I moved in with her during early quarantine. I blurred the lines between aunt and co-parent with her kids, who at the time were 2, 3, and 10. They were in need of another adult in their lives and were going through a period of intense clinginess after their dad left.
I love my friend and I love her kids. We work well together as a team, and this arrangement allowed us both to get back on our feet, emotionally and financially. Now I feel like it’s time for me to move out. I feel more emotionally stable, and I’m in a great place financially. I have a serious boyfriend, and we’re talking about starting a family. Taylor’s kids are out of the constant-supervision age, and she can afford her mortgage solo again.
I broached this a few months ago. Taylor was surprised but took it well. We didn’t make any concrete plans. She’s seeing someone seriously and he’d like to move in. To be honest, he reminds me strongly of her ex. I’m also worried that he might be controlling about my time with the kids once I’m not living with them (he’s given me plenty of indications that this will happen, since lately, he either pushes “babysitting” on me at unplanned times so that he and Taylor can be alone, or makes plans with the kids during my scheduled times with them). It feels messy. I want to sit down and make a solid plan about how to unwind our living situation. My goals are to let my friendship with Taylor take a new shape, to make this transition smooth for the kids, and to keep my close relationship with them. I recognize that it’s up to me to take the first steps here. (I feel like we’re getting divorced or something, with all the logistics!) I’m ready to move to a new phase of life, but the kids have all been dealing with their dad leaving in different ways, and I want to make sure they don’t think I’m leaving them. Can you give me any advice on custody/access after I move out? And on how to talk to kids about this process?
—Auntie
Dear Auntie,
Strangely enough, in this situation, I think talking to the kids will be the easy part. Talk to them all together (first) and talk to each of them separately. Do this multiple times, and not always in a formal, let’s-sit-down-and-have-a-serious-conversation way, but casually, while you’re doing things together. I think you can be honest with them about what led to your living with them (without badmouthing the dad who left or putting too much emphasis on finances): your grief over your spouse’s death, their mother’s need for an extra pair of hands—and an extra heart—after their dad moved out, and your deep love for them and their mother, plus the extraordinary circumstances of 2020-2021 (if you hadn’t moved in, you might note, you wouldn’t even have been able to see them for that long period of lockdown!). I think even the now-6-year-old will be able to follow this. It will be harder, I grant, for all of them (even the now-14-year-old) to understand why you have to move out, but I think that’s OK. Let them ask you questions—tell them they can ask you anything—and answer them honestly, and with love. I assume they know your boyfriend? You haven’t said anything about their relationship to him, but that’s important here: If you’re moving out to live with him and have children with him, they will want to know if they are still your family, too. So if you haven’t yet looped New Boyfriend into their lives, start now. (And, obviously, he will have to be on board, too, if this is going to work.)
As to custody and access: These are legal terms and concepts, so even though you say your role has been something like that of “co-parent,” you have no claim to custody (decision-making power) or access (also known as visitation). What you really want to know is: How can you be sure you’ll still get to see the kids once you move out—particularly since you don’t trust Taylor’s new boyfriend? This is a much trickier matter. You need to talk to your best friend about it, and that’s not going to be easy if you have a bad feeling about her new boyfriend. If you have real cause to worry—if what you describe as controlling behavior manifests in more than expecting you to “babysit” (which I assume you put quotes around because you consider yourself a parent, not a sitter) or overriding your plans with the kids for his own plans (is it possible he’s trying to not-so-subtly let you know that he means to be their stepparent and is uncomfortable with your role in their lives?)—then you have to bring this up with her, for her sake and the kids’ sakes.
Of course, as you already know, doing so (whether you’re right, and he’s not a good guy—or you’re wrong, and what’s going on is a power struggle between you and him that’s playing out over the kids) may damage your relationship with Taylor. But I think it pays off to be frank with her even if what’s happening between you and her beau is a sort of battle of the extra parents. Frame it in terms of how much you love them and want to continue to be their auntie through thick and thin, how even though you know it’s time to move on with your life in other ways, continuing to be a part of her children’s lives is of primary importance to you. As is continuing to be her friend, even as your living situations change. Don’t ask about custody; ask how she’d feel about your arranging dates with them—for them to visit you, one at a time or all together; for you to take them places; for your ongoing presence in their lives. That won’t just happen. It’s going to take work. (Some of that work might be Taylor having to assure her current partner that you are not a threat to him.) Good luck. I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.
Dear Care and Feeding,
I think my 4-year-old son had a panic attack the other day. He was climbing an enclosed play structure and I think he suddenly felt trapped, like he couldn’t get down, and he started screaming—I mean shrieking, like his arm had fallen off. I’ve never heard him react to anything that way! His sister helped him out of the structure and he recovered immediately, then wanted to practice getting through the equipment by himself—which he then did a dozen times with no issue. (It was actually cute. “I’ve conquered my fear!” he kept telling us.) But I’m shaken by the out-of-nowhere, way-out-of-proportion outburst. He was terrified. Do I mention it to the doctor, or just wait to see if it happens again?
—He was So Scared
Dear So Scared,
As everybody knows, I am an enthusiastic advocate of therapy if there’s even a whiff of a problem brewing. I am glad to be able to say, for once, that I don’t think there’s a problem here.
I don’t think your child had a panic attack. A panic attack occurs when there is no apparent cause for panic, when everything seems to be just fine. Your son was very scared by something that was genuinely scary for him: If he has never screamed that way before, my guess is that’s because he’s never been that scared before. Since he quickly realized that he wasn’t trapped, and proved it to himself repeatedly, I’d say that what happened was perfectly healthy. Did he “overreact” to his fear? I guess that depends on how you define overreaction. He expressed what he was feeling in that instant—sheer terror—and then, with his sister’s help (good sister!) he got over it. To me, those screams were just reaction (no over-). He might be a bit dramatic, but being a drama queen is not something that needs to be reported to his doctor (not even if he shrieks this way again in a situation you consider not worth freaking out over; it’s his freakout, not yours). Now, if he ever gets panicky during a quiet time, when nothing at all is happening that might conceivably have provoked it, that’s a horse of a different color.
—Michelle
More Advice From Slate
Our 5-year-old has had a very strong preference for me, her mother, since forever. I have been primary caretaker her whole life, and when I am working (I’m a freelancer) she is great with Dad taking over the primary duties. My husband is an incredible father—endlessly patient, playful, emotionally present, and supportive. He is crushing it. And yet she REALLY prefers me.
Discover more from CaveNews Times
Subscribe to get the latest posts to your email.