I recently had the life-altering experience of reading Beyond Consequences, Logic, and Control: A Love-Based Approach to Helping Attachment-Challenged Children With Severe Behaviors. My son, who has a long distance dad, and to whom I have, at one time, been a long distance mom to, has some challenging behavior that this book addresses.

I read it because I needed something, anything that would help me connect with him in a different way. I was struggling against pre-adolescent angst mixed with valid fear and anger from him that seemed so compounded that I had no idea how to tackle it. After reading, I came away with a completely changed perspective on kids, growing up and parenting that has changed the way our family works and has fundamentally changed the way I parent him and ultimately, his childhood and his life – for the better.

The premise of the book is that when a child experiences a traumatic incident (which might even be something relatively minor, in adult eyes), they essentially go into fight or flight mode and resort to behaviors that help them survive. They don’t listen because they can’t – they are focused on getting through the conversation. They don’t do what they should and they often do what they shouldn’t – because their motivation for acting is not what their parent has said – but what they feel they need to do in order to get through. They essentially spend most of their time in… (More)

Last night, as my son and I sat at the counter nomming strawberries, we were talking about him writing his first words (‘dog’, ‘god’, and ‘no’) and I was able to relate the story to him about his first written words and how proud he was of them. He was 4 when he wrote them and he wrote them in a chat window during internet visitation with me. Now 11, he giggled and asked for more details. in the same way he’s asked about his first steps or for me to tell him about how I met his dad. It’s a memory just like all the rest – even though it happened over internet chat during a time when I couldn’t be there with him.

Seven years ago, I wrote this post about experiencing my son’s firsts via webcam. I’d completely forgotten that I’d blogged about it, as I was having that conversation last night with my son. But in re-reading the post, I remember how ecstatic I was that I got to witness a ‘first’ (and got screen prints!) even though I was far away. I remember how MUCH I needed those small moments to reassure me that I was still connected with him and that our relationship was meaningful.

My son was only 5 at the time. In kindergarten. I remember having that ‘ideal’ picture in my mind of what the perfect long distance situation would be like. He’d look forward to talking to me and… (More)

Allie: O;)??i?$73

Me: Hi sweetheart, how is your day?

Allie: Gsksjsofjfjserr

Me: Are you ready for your birthday? I can’t believe you’re going to be 5!!!

Allie: Gwygegeyeu Bhhdydhsydhdydh

Me: I love you, Princess. XOXO

Allie: I. Love. You. Daddy

And that is roughly what 99% of my text message communications with my daughter look like. Typically just a string of nonsensical characters, only rarely forming any word you’d find in the English language, let alone a complete thought (although occasionally she transcribes to someone else to type her thoughts for her – makes for an easier flow of conversation, but much less personal). She’s getting better though. As you can see, she does know how to read/write some words, including those most important to me – I, Love, You and Daddy.

I have many instances where I feel that although what she sends is gibberish, it’s some of the most important and reflective sentiments that I’ll hear from anyone all day. After all, it’s not the sequence or selection of characters that she chooses to send me (one could argue that some of my messages are just as incoherent at times), it’s that she sends me anything at all that melts my heart; that she’s thinking of me. It’s those unexpected, unsolicited messages that pop up out of nowhere that light up my face no matter where I am or… (More)

I was always taught that there are very few times when a grown man should cry – Funerals, and that sort, I suppose. My own personal list, however, of permissible occasions for a man to tear up a bit definitely includes those few minutes when I am returning my daughter to her mother after a week or two of good quality time together. Life as we know it changes for the duration of the time that she is with us, as my girlfriend and I temporarily abandon our “come-and-go-as-we-please” lifestyle to adapt to the warm and inviting home that my daughter knows in California. Sushi and fish tacos are replaced by fish sticks and chicken tenders, and Nickelodeon tends to be the order of the day on the flat screen. Late nights at the office take a back seat to playing “Go Fish” and reading a fairytale princess story before bed. But it is all so very welcome and we both get upset when it is time for Allie to go back.

I start to feel a bit sad about the day before I have to take her back, as I am compiling my mental checklist of things of Allie’s that I need to remember to pack. She often senses this slight gloom and ironically it is her reminding me that “Daddy, but I’m still here right now,” in that every so adorable high pitched voice. It is amazingly deep sentiment coming from such an innocent, young, four-year old girl,… (More)

This is my first holiday season as a long distance father.  Last year I lived in the same town as my daughter, then age 3, and I saw her every other weekend and one night during the week (sometimes over night).  I was living in a small two bedroom apartment just minutes from her.  During my visitation with her, we’d engage in typical holiday fun (my girlfriend was even so sweet as to order us a big Thanksgiving dinner and have it delivered for one of my visits with my daughter, even though she was a thousand miles away visiting her own family).  I would take Allie shopping to get Christmas ideas for her and to pick out gifts for the rest of the family.  We would watch holiday cartoons or rearrange decorations on the tree.  Basically, every few days or so, we’d spend our time together reveling in the joys of the season and I’d enjoy getting to see the holiday magic through her eyes, as she compiled her endless list for Santa and asked question after question about the jolly red guy.  And when I wasn’t with her, I spent what seemed like months building my daughter one of those wooden dollhouses, gluing shingles, painting or decorating the miniature interior – it turned out to be a gift that she loved and still enjoys playing with.

I’ve never been one of those huge holiday fanatics, as it often brings back some painful childhood memories that I’d rather not… (More)