What about Papoose?

A few months before he accepted the job closer to my daughter and I, my former spouse texted me to tell me about poop on what used to be my dog’s butt. And all the while, never once mentioned my daughter.

Are you kidding? She does share your DNA and you don’t even ask if she’s okay. She’s had been sick for nearly a week and you don’t even ask about her.

Before anyone asks, no, I do not volunteer information about her to him anymore because most of the time it’s met with something less than ideal in my mind. I had a friend tell me that I needed to stop responding to him unless it was about our daughter. I’ve tried to maintain this advice, but somehow, I always end up falling back into friend mode.

It’s hardest to separate oneself from being a friend to the ex when you are used to taking care of them. I engaged in what I can now only classify as co-dependent behavior. I put everything aside to ensure his happiness.

Now, I am a mother and a teacher. I do not want to teach my child that it’s okay to allow someone to selectively parent. Nor do I want her to believe she must sacrifice herself to make others happy.

This leads me to a delicate balancing act where I end up feeling like the bad guy. I am on the defense constantly trying to maintain a healthy relationship between the two of them and keeping my anger at him to myself.

In the end, I still feel the sacrifice but the reward is much greater.