Read Off the Rude-Nosed Dane Rear

Unlike the batteries for many Christmas-present toys, structure comes included with the addition of an infant to the household. Sitting around the tree with games that don't work makes for unhappy celebrants. When a baby shows up, what-to-do is manifest.

As children began to stack up in Janice's and my life, starting in the mid-80s, no amount of fatigue or otherwise desire allowed us to not do what had to be done in the rearing of the kids. I always slept as much as I could, and tried to let go of any expectation that was "optional" in my life during this time. I could not produce enough stolen "winks", and released "shoulds" to feel rested. I was exhausted for eight years. And I was content beyond description.

The mundanity of dropping toothpaste on each brush in a row at the sink, the routine of breakfasts and lunch-preparation, the inevitable rush to part hair, tie shoes, find bookbags, all filled my days' beginnings. The daytime hours flew by, too, with childcare, husbanding, housework, landlording, errands, cooking, laundry. Then, the bus door sighed shut out front, and the casual scatter was begun again. Bedtime was welcome. And I went to bed happy.

It's the structure, stupid.

In our family, it was not the eventual maturation of the children that broke this structure, but divorce. I was deprived the experience of being an "empty nester" - although my suspicion is that I would have filled that portion of my life with celebrations with my adult children, wife, family, and friends. Our children - and by association, I - were deprived of the structure to which they had been accustomed. All they had to do was to go to the place where their short-term, short-sighted, adolescent desires were least-thwarted. And they did. (This makes them normal and healthy kids, who lived in a normal, unhealthy family.)

I did not take well to this change in discipline. I was placed on the bench by a "dimwit coach", to watch my beautiful team disintegrate before my eyes. Old Elizabeth Kubler-Ross talked about the five stages of grieving. I existed for years in a stew of denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and eventual intermittent acceptance.

At the nadir of this experience, I was pretty much reduced to lying in bed, eating cheap pot pies from their microwaveable "pans", drinking cheap vodka from plastic half gallon bottles. I stayed up and watched Conan and Kilborn. When the alarm went off at 6:30, I started my bath. Sometime between 6:45 and noon, I got up. I traded stock, and managed a couple of business supply chain software projects from the house, but mostly I numbly moved from room to room.

There was interface with the bambini, but the structure was gone, and with it many of the sensations of caring.

All experienced people have heard that it "takes two to tango" - that divorce is a two-party endeavor, that both parties are right and wrong. Let's accept that without further comment, shall we?

I missed the kids. I missed my role in the family. I accepted that Janice had a life to live that was no longer to include me in my former role. What I could not accept was that in her leaving, Janice took all semblance of structure, attached to other things which were deeply important to her.

To fill my time, while I waited for the tub to fill, I had imaginary conversations. These conversations were meant to help me not have conversations with problematic personalities. Pre-eminent among these personalities is the narcissistic type. Doug helped me understand that this personality has three modes.

The dominant one is self-aggrandizing. When the personality is in this mode, it can often be highly charming and cooperative. The personality is at work, seeking affirmation for its persona - for the way it wishes to be perceived in the world. There is nothing to be done with this personality beyond watching. A front row seat for a narcissistic personality in mode one is a stunningly awesome place to be. To attempt to modify this personality's work toward a more-consensus-version of reality is to invite destruction of one's own personality.

Mode two is self-soothing. Needing to balm the pain that is at the root of the narcissistic personality, the personality may invite one to gamble, to drink to excess, to view pornography, to engage in sexual activity. There is no sharing of emotion in this mode, only the killing of time and deadening of feelings.

Mode three is the trusting child. It is only here that the core of the personality is accessible. This mode might be thought of as the basic personality that has been suppressed. Regrettably, in the rare moments when the trusting child is present in the personality, the other two modes are nearby, ready to aggrandize or soothe it back into non-presence. It is in this third mode that the personality might - with the help of a trained and talented counselor - begin to make connections with the reality that does not require the participation of the persona(e) that the aggrandizing mode has created, and the soothing mode has sheltered. Ewing says that even when the personality is willing to attempt therapy, the process will normally take seven-to-ten years. This is clearly no place for an amateur like Old Holden.

The object of these exercises was to not participate in conversations in which I might become involved in defending my right to my own feelings. It was my primary form of discipline during the years of the twisting contraction of my family's capacity to love. I did not know it as I struggled through the days, but I was preparing to begin a new phase of parenting, and to receive a richer appreciation of the value of my former efforts on behalf of innocents.

Yesterday, Mackenzie and I were at Sam's, doing a little bulk buying. As we stood in the checkout line, an elderly couple in the line beside ours struck up a conversation about Mackenzie.

"Are you the grandfather?"

"Yep. Her mother is in school, so we decided to do a little shopping."

The woman mentioned that Mackenzie is beautiful and calm. I told her a little about my kids, and how I thought calm was acquired by both disposition and training.

"I think too many parents like the glory, but don't want to do the work to raise kids."

The older gentleman said, "It seems like no one wants to raise kids anymore."

"Well, I am happy to help. I love the structure it provides."

I think of it as being like a Christmas morning, when the children come down to find all of their toys operational, because someone had the foresight and caring to run down to Sam's for a 24-pack of AAs the day before.