Don't Throw Stones at Glass Houses

My Bonus Daughter lives with her Biomom and her grandparents in a neighboring state, so we are effectively holiday and summer parents. Every Summer my Bonus Daughter lives with us for 5 weeks. Typically we enroll her in Summer Day Camp for three weeks and for the remaining two weeks she gets to lounge at home with Dad, who works from home. We see these Day Camps as an opportunity for her to socialize and meet friends in our area, participate in activities, and of course camp provides much needed daycare for my husband and I. Unfortunately, we've been met with opposition to Day Camp the last couple of years. Bonus Daughter would like to stay at home with Dad for the entire 5 weeks, and she's backed up by Biomom. We've tried to explain that just because Dad works from home doesn't mean he is able to entertain Bonus Daughter all day long. But alas. We received yet another email from Biomom insisting that Bonus Daughter gets to have a say in the matter. Dad responded that he did not think it was productive for Bonus Daughter to stay at home and watch TV all day long. This resulted in a livid Biomom who immediately assumed he was criticizing her parenting skills. "Don't throw stones at glass houses," her tirade ended. I had a good laugh. To date, this is Biomom's most quotable line.

Last Spring I tried to explain our rationale to Bonus Daughter. She was 10 years old at the time. "What would you do at home all day long when Dad is working?" I asked, knowing very well that TV and books can only sustain her attention for so long.
"I'd go to the Mall," she said.
"You can't go the Mall alone, you're 10," I laughed.
"Well then I'd go for walks," she tried.
"And no, you can't go for walks by yourself, you're 10."

Somehow, whenever Bonus Daughter and I end up in some sort of debate, its about her wanting to do things on her own that I won't let her. Once she turned 11, I'd nip most arguments in the butt with "No, you can't. You're only 11."

The irony is that every year my Bonus Daughter thoroughly enjoys camp. We don't know anyone in our social circle with kids her age, so at least she meets friends in the area. Last year she begged to go for an extra week. Every year we remind her how much she ends up loving the camp, and every year she refuses to go and we end up having an argument with Biomom.

Last year our Summer visitation started with a rough patch. Biomom insisted on receiving the measurements for Bonus Daughter's bed, apparently the bed was not long enough. We explained that my even my 6'4 brother can comfortably stretch out on it. This evolved into a request for all measurements of the bed, including the depth and width of the matress. Dad and I, trying to avoid a confrontation, dutifully obliged. Next, Biomom requested a picture and then to asked to see our apartment. I think I am an incredibly rational person who usually tries to put myself in someone else's shoes and view things from their point of view. So we agreed to everything, but firmly said we would buy a new bed when it suited our budget and not under Biomom's pressure. Then Biomom decided that Bonus Daughter would bring an air matress to sleep on for the duration of the Summer. Even for me, this tested my lack of boundaries and pushed me over the edge.

When Bonus Daughter arrived with said air mattress, sheets and a comforter for it, I put my foot down. Afterall, it is my house too, and I was not going to be imposed upon and insulted like this any longer. "What is the problem with this bed?" I asked Bonus Daughter very calmly. She said that "I just like sleeping on a double bed. It's nice to stretch out." I explained that the room is too small for a double bed. I said no to the air matress then, and continued to say no three days later, when Biomom texted her asking if she was sleeping on the air matress yet. I'm not having any kid sleep on an air matress under my roof for 5 weeks when there's a perfectly good bed around. I could just picture Biomom down the road telling the court and/or girlfriends that we weren't providing a proper bed and that Bonus Daughter had to sleep on an air matress for 5 weeks.

I won that battle in the end. But I bit my tongue about everything else that Biomom stirred up prior to the Summer visitation. She dished up the past, and Dad's supposed lack of catering to his daughter's needs since birth. She went as far as saying he never wanted his daughter. All for a bed. I realized then that there are times when you just can't reason with someone because then you are assuming that they are rational, and you are discounting years of emotional baggage. Even rational me cannot reason my way around irrationality. So I restrained myself from picking up the phone and reminding Biomom that Dad had to sue her just to see his baby. He had to sue her for the right to be a Dad to his Daughter. My dear husband didn't entertain her arguments any further, he just stepped away. He said he realized that the past is still very much present in their interactions with each other. That's what I love about my husband, his ability to be a real grown-up in times like these.

I also bit my tongue when Bonus Daughter arrived for the Summer with what looked like emergency war supplies. Everything from her own band-aids to her own washing powder, and her mom wrote out instructions for how she was going to do all her own laundry. She had a bunch of snacks, of which I still have the caramel apple dip sitting in my cupboard. Apparently we don't give her enough desert. She brought an array of facial products and scented body wash that she never used and instead helped herself to mine. Now I don't mind her using my stuff at all, but the implication that we couldn't take care of her hurt me most. Biomom will probably never know how she loves my vanilla or almond body wash, and how my paraben-free carrot shampoo appealed to this little 11-year old. "Why aren't you using this strawberry body wash?" I asked her one day after noticing how quickly my stuff was running out. The strawberry stuff even made me feel 11 and jealous that I didn't have body wash growing up - it smelt so good I was tempted to eat it. "I don't like it," she said.

At the end of the summer, we caught Bonus Daughter pouring some product into the drain to make it look like she used it during the Summer. I said nothing to her or to Biomom. One has to pick your battles, right?

PS. When we dropped Bonus Daughter off after the Summer, I was invited to see Bonus Daughter's bedroom, in exchange for Biomom coming into our apartment. Bonus Daughter does not have a double bed at home, just a regular single bed.