Have I Become a “Disney” Dad… Mom?

I worry before my son comes to visit. I worry that I will be sleep-deprived, and then I won’t be fun. Or my back will be hurting terribly, and then I won’t be fun. Or his energy level — sooooo much more than my own these days — will have him chomping at the bit for an adventure or excursion that I can’t manage, and then… you got it… I won’t be fun.

Although I may not be able to jump for joy when he shows up at my front door, or keep up his pace when we explore a new neighborhood, or sit for hours in a café or theater (my bad back would scream), I want to be fun. I want his time with me, which is limited, to be fun for him.

As soon as I see him, I tsk-tsk myself for fretting. He works long hours. He’s not easily bored like his brother. He’s happy to chill. But…

Hoping to Please Our Adult Kids

The thing is, I realize just how badly I want my kiddo to enjoy his day with me when he gives up his (rare free) weekend to visit. I also realize that I do everything I can to “shelve” whatever physical pain I’m in and force a greater degree of activity when he’s here. This is more than putting on a public face when I’m out in the world; it’s a personalized version. And one I can only let down behind a closed door.

This is an old skill and a useful one, reliant on my chameleon side. And it’s about never wanting my kids to worry about me — something I have failed at in the past, and am working on improving until I’m irrevocably wrinkled and seriously decrepit.

But it’s more, this “fun” thing. When you don’t see the people you love most in the world — kids, grandkids, significant other or lover — when you’re living a weekend relationship (or less), you want your time together to be special. You cram all the good stuff you can into a condensed period. Invariably, you do this because the day-to-day interaction isn’t part of the picture.

And if you’re a people pleaser? That too is nudging you to maximize your time together any way you can.

The “Disney” Dad Phenomenon

Years ago, when I heard about the Disney Dad thing — the divorced dad who sees his kids every other weekend (or less) and does his best to show them a fun time — I got it. I witnessed it. I resented it.

My ex was living hundreds of miles away, he saw our boys every four to six weeks for a weekend, and he filled those visits with everything the kids loved to do — activities and outings and action, action, action.

Frankly, I was grateful for the break, if only two days and a night every now and then. I was grateful for sleep. I was grateful for silence.

I was also envious. He was the “fun” parent with disposable income. To me, it seemed like he breezed into town and the three of them would go to the movies, play tennis, eat junk food, hit Dave and Buster’s for the arcades, or Six Flags for the rides. He was at liberty to give out the “good stuff” and then leave.

Meanwhile, I was the disciplinarian, the nagger, the cranky chauffeur. I was the penny-pinching parent they pushed against, fought with, snarled at. I was short on patience, short on money, short on energy, and long on worries.

It wasn’t a competition, but it felt like it. And to me, I always came up the loser by comparison.

“Competition” Is Over

Strangely, I have a slightly different view these days. If it ever was a competition, it was probably in my head. I’m certain my ex missed the boys, he enjoyed most of those activities as much as they did, and he wanted to share good times with his sons.

When you don’t see your children very often, whatever the circumstances, isn’t it only natural to hope they’re thrilled to see you? To show them a wonderful time? To need to feel their love?

This isn’t to say that some Disney Dads – or for that matter Disney Moms – aren’t trying to buy their kids’ affection or lure their children away from the other parent. This wasn’t the case in my situation, but damaging games are routinely used during and after divorce, too often putting children squarely in the middle.

Despite resenting the “play time” that my ex could afford, both in terms of bucks and energy, I was grateful my boys were creating memories with their dad. But he was the Disney Dad in many ways, like so many other Disney Dads, partly due to the miles that separated our worlds.

And distance changes the dynamic in any relationship, parental or otherwise. Even if supplemented by technology — Skype, FaceTime — you sacrifice ordinary, often precious moments that create a shared history.

Putting on a Happy Face

So why do some of us go out of our way, even with those we’re closest to, to put on a positive face? To downplay our troubles? Why am I feeling like a Disney Dad when either of my sons come into town?

As I recover from overdoing it (yes, recently, that’s precisely what I did), I’m fully aware that I try my best to deliver a worry-free, relaxing experience. It isn’t always possible, but on my son’s latest visit, I think I succeeded. We talked, we walked, we ate, we laughed. What could be better than that?

Now, it wasn’t all fun and games; I was slammed by a pounding migraine for a solid eight hours, and he was pooped from a very long week. He snoozed while I communed with a dark room and a cold compress, but as the visit progressed, I was relieved to be able to give him “fun” me — or at least, pleasant me. Even if it came with a price tag in the days that followed… more Advil (sigh), more heating pad (sigh), and more babying the bothersome back.

What I’ve come to believe at the moment — for the Disney Dads and this Disney Dad mom — it’s about love, wanting to give love, and yes, wanting to be loved. It’s about missing a child whatever age he or she might be. And of course, it’s about wanting to add to that child’s store of good memories, especially as we grow older.

I welcome your thoughts.

 

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