Alex and I were making plans to go visit his potential next school and scope out the city for possible property for the family, and what the schools would be like for Rachel and Kevin. Then he started getting phone calls from other schools, feelers for follow-ups on his expressed interest in attending; long story short, he’s got viable, incredible options that would keep him on U.S. soil.

In the long run, that might be better, because Char’s checkups this week were not as stellar as we’d hoped, and she’s facing some significant surgery and rehab this year. Because of the accident two and a half years ago, she has avascular necrosis of the femoral head, and it’s reached the point of necessary replacement. She’s been in increasing pain and is losing mobility, so it has to be done. And we would prefer it be done here where we’re familiar with the doctors and hospital.

That doesn’t mean Alex is limited to U.S. schools. If going with Erin and Miko is what will get him the best education, he’ll go. Rachel and Kevin are understandably disappointed, but they understand. If Alex does go, we’ll be visiting and spending the summer traveling; if he ultimately chooses a state-side school, we can still take them to explore the places they’re interested in.

The hard part is going to be Erin, Miko, and the grandkids leaving. And then getting Char through everything she’s facing. She doesn’t seem fazed at all by it; it’s something that has to be done and she’d like to get it over with and get the rehab underway.

I wish I had half her strength.

Over the holidays, we found ourselves staring into news we didn't want (but that was good for Erin and Miko), a possibility Alex did want (but we did not), and surprises from Rachel and Kevin about the aforementioned news and possibility. It came towards us with a not unexpected announcement from Brad: he's selling the bar and retiring.

What we don't want: Miko's job has presented him with the chance to take his family overseas; most of what he does goes over my head, but the meat of it is that he'll be leading a research team, as well as teaching. He can't not take the position; the opportunity is solid and will advance his career, whereas staying here will stall it in the next few years. This opportunity opened up, for Alex, the very real possibility of attending school overseas as well. It affords him an education undistracted by anything other than his field of study, and while he would be there in residence, Erin and Miko would be a phone call away.

Knowing what the opportunity means for his future, we didn't say no right off the bat; it's big enough that significant consideration must be weighed, his needs versus our fears, what he wants versus what would be the right thing. Every logical argument we could make leaning in either direction eventually ended with the realization that we can't stand in his way on this.

Rachel and Kevin's initial reaction: are we moving? I presumed that they would be relieved that the answer was no. We would stay here and let them finish school; we've discussed eventually living part-time in Ireland, but every intention has us waiting until the kids are all grown. But they surprised us; it's not fair, they each said in their own way, that Alex gets to see more of the world and they don't. I believed that was knee-jerk jealousy, but neither intended it to be. Rachel claims there is nothing here that she wouldn't have there; the world is a much smaller place with email and Facebook, and she pointed out that the friends she's closest to, the girls with whom she can share everything, moved away two and three years ago, and online is how they keep in touch.

Kevin would be leaving a lot behind; his dance school, friends he is extremely tight with, and there's Elizabeth. But still, when playing with the idea in his head, he's all for moving. There are places to learn to dance there. He can keep in touch with Elizabeth.

Their enthusiasm was unexpected, but still, we were not considering picking up and moving to another country simply because Alex wants to go to school there, or because Erin and Miko and the grandkids are going.

We were still at the "we're thinking about it" point with Alex and had not told him yes or no, when Peter and Nika announced that upon her graduation in May they are headed back to South Africa. Brad, who has resolutely refused to consider traveling any further than California to visit his family, decided it was time for him to get a passport, so that he would be able to visit. Alex jokingly told him if he wanted, he could live with him in a dorm room and bounce between there and Johannesburg; instead of blowing him off, Brad mused that if the "whole fucking family" was going, he would, too.

And then it was laid out in front of us. Erin and Miko are going, regardless. Alex is going for at least 3-4 years. Nika and Peter are leaving. Rachel and Kevin--at least for now--want to live somewhere different, and they want the chance to see more of the world. When we balanced everything, we realized there is truly nothing keeping us here, other than friendships and familiarity. Neither of us is tied to a job; I have business investments that can, for the most part, be handled from wherever I happen to be, and I could accommodate in-person needs with a plane ticket and rental car.

We tried to decide what was holding us back; the fact that it was the kids that championed the idea, or that deep down we felt a move was not a good idea, and we kept coming back to the notion that we were reluctant simply because it felt slightly backwards to have the kids pushing for this.

We're still not decided. It doesn't make sense to hold Alex back, but we're now grappling with the fundamentals of whether or not picking up and leaving everything behind would be in the kids' best interests. That's what it comes down to; what's best for them.

Alex has struggled the last couple of months with what he wants to ultimately do: transfer to an out of state school, or stay here and get his degree from a local university. He wants the best education he can get, but he also doesn't want to leave Stephanie behind. This chance to study abroad, however, cleared things up for him. He knows that right now his education comes first, he also knows that with effort he can stay connected to her, and if it's meant to be, they'll figure it out later. I wondered how he felt about the idea--even if it is a remote concept right now--that his entire family could follow him, if there would be (and perhaps rightfully so) resentment. Yet he expressed some relief; whether we follow or not, he'll be there in residence, he wouldn't live with us. But we would be right there, and as he put it, I'm only going to be seventeen, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that much of just me.

Everyone wants to go; I'm not sure why we're dragging out feet on a final decision. It'll come to me sooner rather than later, I suppose.

Weeks ago, I promised Toni I would take her Christmas shopping so that she could buy gifts for her parents without her parents being around. This is the first year she’s been really aware that they just might like to be surprised, and she’s smart enough to know that if she lacks enough money, Grandpa will make up the shortfall. That latter part is probably why she was very specific in asking me to take her and not Char. Char is a mom; moms make you consider the actual dollar amount in your wallet before letting you pick something out.

This was before I broke my foot; we took the kids skiing a couple of weeks ago and due to a poor choice in foot attire while trying out a snow bike, I managed to break a couple of bones in my foot. Minor breaks, but it still hurts a bit. I could have backed out, but I’m not an invalid and this wasn’t going to kill me, so Alex and I sucked it up and took her to the mall.

We hadn’t been inside for more than five minutes when I had a sudden and acute flashback to taking a three year old Alex Christmas shopping at the same mall. We’d barely gotten inside when he spied a very large red kettle and noted people putting money into it, and wanted to know why. He accepted that people sometimes need a little extra help buying food and clothing, and was fine with that, but just past the kettle was a collection point for Toys for Tots, manned by Marines in dress uniform. He was curious; why did those soldiers have all those toys?

The explanation that some people didn’t have enough money to buy presents for their kids made him sink to his knees, and he cried from deep down, so broken over what had occurred to him that it took several minutes before I was able to understand what had upset him. He got it: there were kids out there who didn’t have toys to play with, and if those soldiers were collecting toys, that meant that there were kids who were going to have a very bad Christmas, and worse—there was no Santa Claus.

He was three years old and even then too smart for his own good. Toni doesn’t share his rapid-fire ability to put mental puzzle pieces together, but I knew that kettle was going to be there, and just beyond that it, there was going to be a collection table for toys and Toni was going to want an explanation.

The red kettle was not a mystery to her; she’s seen then in front of grocery stores and is familiar with bell ringers. All she wanted was a dollar to put in it, and then grabbed Alex by the hand to pull him along. I hoped she would be oblivious to the men in uniform I could see just a hundred feet or so ahead, but it was like she zoned in on them, and wanted to know the same thing Alex had. What are they doing?

Before I could answer, Alex did. People bring toys to them, and they make sure those toys get to little kids who don’t get a lot for Christmas.

Oh, so those are some of Santa’s helpers?

If I had thought of that 13 years ago, one little boy might not have had the joy of believing in Santa ripped away from him. She was content with the belief that Santa makes good use of helpers, and just wanted to get down to shopping. Alex asked her if she wanted to go buy a couple of toys—his treat—and give them to the Marines, and she lit up. Of course she did.

Toni doesn’t have many more years of believing in Santa; she’s almost 9 years old and I suspect she has her doubts, but I didn’t have it in me to be there when she voiced a certainty to those doubts. I was grateful to my son for being quick enough to give her a better explanation than I'd had for him when he was three. He was able to turn it into something good; from then on, we’ve taken an annual shopping trip together—the last couple of years including Kevin—and have bought toys for donation. It was his idea and he saves a little money all year long for it. But I would still like to turn back the clock and give him the explanation he gave to Toni, and keep his belief intact for a few more years.

In another hour or so this house will begin to fill with family; Erin and Miko are bringing their kids, Craig is bringing Frankie, Brad is bringing some 18 year old scotch (this year, Craig is fine with it around), Nika and Peter, Dack and Theresa, TK and Becky and their kids—everyone in our daily lives that matters will be here; it will be loud and obnoxious, and a definite kind of wonderful.

And later on, Erin and Miko will take the kids home so that Santa can find them, because for now Toni still believes, and she can’t wait.

I thought every psychological thing from the accident two and a half years ago was behind me. But yesterday we were at a stoplight and the sound of squealing tires made me flinch so hard I nearly went from the passenger seat right into Ian's lap, and I started shaking so hard and breathing so hard that he pulled into the first parking lot he could to give me some time to calm down and catch my breath.

We went into a nearby fast food place because I was damn well going to cave into the want of a chocolate shake while I fought to calm down and as we sat there I told him I thought this was all over with and that I'd mostly forgotten about it, but the look on his face said something else.

"You only drive if you have to. Since Alex got his license you drive even less. Your motorcycle has only 400 miles on it and I've put a hundred on it just to keep the battery charged."

I hadn't noticed, but he's right. I don't know why he's never pushed me to get behind the wheel more often or take the bike out, but he's right. I always ask him to drive, and I've used Alex's excitement over being able to drive as an excuse when Ian isn't available. I wanted to know why he didn't push me a little harder.

"Because you do what you have to do when you need to do it, and you're not distracted by fear when you are driving. I think it's all right that you choose to not drive or ride, and when you're ready, you'll tell me to get my ass in the passenger seat because I'm driving you bat chit crazy with the way I steer with one hand."

But clearly, I'm not nearly as all right with it as I thought I was.

I thought he would press the point and make me drive, but he didn't. I did ask him if he thought I was nuts, and as we got back into the car he said he did.

For a moment, I was offended.

"It's 5 fucking degrees outside, and you wanted a shake. You have to admit, that's a little nuts."

I'll give him that one.

A little over a month ago Erin expressed an interest in knowing where her father is, what had happened to him, and why he left when she was so young. My sister has never been exactly forthcoming about the breakup of her marriage, and the details were never mine to inquire about. She may have confided in our parents, who only told me “It’s just sad,” and I never pressed. At the time the only things I needed to know were that my sister was suddenly on her own with two young kids, and that she needed our help and compassion more than she needed questions.

I think we all (my brother, my ex, and I) expected her ex to stay in contact with their kids, no matter what the reason he had for leaving. He didn’t, though, and Val made it clear to the kids that they should just simply not ask her anything.

I had my suspicions about his whereabouts, but kept them to myself, until late in October when Erin asked me to find him. She’s not ready to face him, but does want him to know she’s interested in him, and that someday, probably someday soon, she’d like to see him and perhaps (a very strong maybe) begin a relationship if that’s what he wants as well.

I approached my sister and got the answer I expected; she doesn’t know where he is and doesn’t care. I spoke to Erin’s brother, who also didn’t know, but was certain he could get at least some basic information out of Val, and after some pressure—he wants as much as Erin does to have at least the option to connect with their father, and if warranted, kick the crap out of him—she relented and gave Jeff the last address and phone number she had for her ex’s brother.

This last month has been filled with attempts to contact the brother, tracking him from one address to the next, and two weeks ago I finally found him halfway across the county from where I initially thought he would be. He confirmed the suspicions I had over two decades ago, that Val’s ex practically vanished because he was in prison. He was full of details that I never would have guessed and was highly suspect regarding the truthfulness of them, but he pointed me in the right direction and assured me that Erin and Jeff’s father would be glad to hear from me.

When Val married him—having already had Jeff, and not too long after high school—I knew him as Billy, but after leaving prison he began going by his middle name and isn’t keen on sharing it with the world, do for the sake of my own sanity, I’ll just call him Bill here. Bill’s brother was right; he was glad to hear from me and was keenly interested in news about his kids, thrilled that they’re doing so well in spite of their parents, and was overjoyed at how many kids they’ve had.

It was a stark contrast to how my sister reacted at the news of her grandkids, which was mostly Yeah? Nice for them. Where she is almost calculating in creating distance between herself and the idea that her kids have families of their own, Bill wanted every detail I could give him. He also understood when told that Erin isn’t ready to meet him, but that she wanted—for now—to just know that he’s alive and to have a general idea where he is. He’s under no delusions about what his leaving did to his kids, but he’s open to them knowing why, especially if they know where he is now and how far removed he is from the things that put him feet first into a vat of legal trouble.

He’s more than willing to share details with me, as long as I don’t also dwell on Val’s part of it. And in hearing that, so many pieces of the Val Puzzle fell into place. Her actions and inactions, her squirrely and fairly despicable behaviors over the last 30 years, and her attitude are much more understandable now. I can look back and see how most of her life has been painted with guilt, and without going into too much detail, she has every reason to be wracked with guilt. Bill spent five years in prison to mostly protect her; he took a fall that she should have because he felt that his kids needed their mother, and if he didn’t protect her they would have both wound up in jail, and he had no idea what would have happened to Jeff and to Erin.

I can know the details; the kids, he insists, cannot. I disagree with this on so many levels, but mostly because if they did know, they would understand their mother better. Some wounds might begin to heal. It wouldn’t begin to explain to Erin why Val threw her out when she was 16 and only thought she was pregnant—it never occurred to Val to take her to a doctor and find out for sure—but it would explain to Erin the atmosphere of the environment she grew up in, and why my parents took such a leading reign in her life until they moved here.

Bill didn’t just leave and forget he had kids; Bill left and had no way to stay in contact with them, and Val didn’t help matters any. I believe Jeff and Erin would be better off if they had the full truth; Bill might think he’s still protecting Val by keeping it from them, but I think it would give them a deeper understanding of their mother and the demons that will nip at her heels for the rest of her life. Erin might be more willing to at least consider bridging some distance with her mother.

When Erin was unceremoniously shown the front door, her brother was already out of the house, away at college. He’d weathered his own version of Val as a mother but wasn’t there to see the explosion and thusly does not have those wounds. He’s eager to meet their father, and accepts that there are some things that he won’t be told. He feels he can start from scratch and get to know them man Bill is now, not the man he used to be.

For now, Erin is content to know that he’s all right and he thinks about her frequently; she’s happy that he does want at least some contact, and that he’s fine with her taking however long she needs to decide how she wants to meet him. She’s grateful that he doesn’t mind having a go-between, and that she’ll trust Jeff to be the first of them to actually get on a plane to meet him face to face. She’s relieved that I think he looks fine, acts fine, and that I believe he’s truthful about his past and his life now, and when she’s ready, I’ll go with her.

I have no doubt that eventually the full truth of why Bill left and where he’s been will come out, and when it does I’ll also go with her to see her mother, because I know she’ll want to. And if I’m as truthful about myself, it won’t be painless for me. She might consider me to be her dad, but there’s something very powerful about the draw of one’s biological parents. I’m always very aware that we’ll probably go through this more than once, because after Erin decides to meet or not meet him, and whether or not it leads to some kind of relationship with either or both of her parents, we have to face the fact that in a few years it will be Kevin feeling that pull. Frankly, I’m not ready for any of this.

Getting the kids to get their homework done has never been an issue before; Alex studies for fun, Rachel does her work as soon as she gets home just to get it out of the way, and Kevin never really had much to do before now. When he did have homework, he mimicked Alex and sat down at the table with his older brother and just did it.

Then his hormones began to kick in, his attitude skewed a bit, and homework has become a battleground. When asked if he has any, he grunts no, and is then scrambling to get it done at the last minute. On Wednesday afternoon, knowing that he’d be better off getting it out of the way before a weekend that was already scheduled with family outings, Char asked him how much—not if he had any—homework he needed to get done.

I have to read about 10 pages in this book we’re reading for English class.

All right; he’s not the reader Alex is, but he does read for half an hour or so every night, so she didn’t push. She did, however, ask him every night if he’d read what he was supposed to.

A few pages, his pat answer.

Get it done tonight was her reply.

He’s rushing head-first into puberty, we get that. We survived it with Alex, complete with attitude and door-slamming; we survived it with Rachel and her penchant for new-teen-drama-queen antics. Kevin has always been fairly laid back, easy going, so we naïvely assumed he might be just a little easier to deal with.

I don’t think either of us expected he would take the worst of his siblings’ traits and create a whole new pre-teen model. He has all of Alex’s attitude and then some, the snarky sarcasm that just misses the mark, he stomps through the house, and he can out-drama the queen without much effort. He’s still the same sweet kid, but when he’s on a roll…if it was someone else’s kid, I would be amused. Since it’s ours, I’m ticking away the months until the worst of it is over, and hoping that he eases out of it at about the same ages Alex and Rachel did (don’t get me wrong, they’re still rolling in teen crap, but they’ve got a handle on it and know when they’ve stepped over the line.)

Thanksgiving weekend was All Kevin Attitude, All The Time. He snarked at all the wrong times, backtalked, rolled his eyes a few times too many, stomped a few times too loudly, and by yesterday afternoon we’d had enough.

And then after dinner Alex brought up homework, knowing Kevin hadn’t done it; he was being a shit, too, but at least it was with a purpose, to make sure his little brother got the work done before it was too late.

Char was furious. She pointed Kevin towards the sofa, turned off the TV, and made him read the chapter he should have had done on Wednesday night. When he closed the book and then said he needed his notebook to finish—I might have forgotten that I need to write a report—she gritted her teeth and managed to avoid yelling at him. But when he pulled out the notebook, along with math homework he “forgot” about, history worksheets that “will only take a minute,” and a take-home quiz for his science class, her restraint lapsed and she let him have it (verbally.)

He simply sat there and let her get it out, and then made his biggest mistake. He rolled his eyes, sighed hard, and told her to stop being so dramatic. It was “meaningless” homework and didn’t matter.

She was mad enough that she turned around and left the room; he shrugged it off until his cell phone chirped with a text message, and I grabbed the phone from his hand.

You just lost this for a week.

Instant indignation. That wasn’t fair, he was getting the work done and it would be done before bedtime, so what’s the big deal?

You never, not ever, speak to your mother that way.

She started it. He seriously went to that. She started it.

One more word and you’re also grounded for the week.

His mouth opened—he had more than one more word to say—but he doesn’t dare risk it this week. If he misses dance classes this week and next week, he doesn’t get to participate in the holiday recital, and he’s worked his ass off for that.

Very quietly, he grabbed his books and headed for my office, where he could work without a parent breathing down his neck. And somewhere in that pre-teen clouded brain is a working brain cell, because I heard him pause in the hallway at our bedroom door.

I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to be mean.

Yes, we’ve gotten through it twice already and peripherally with a third (though Erin was over the attitude part by the time she moved in; she was still all teen), and his bright spots are far more frequent than his dark wannabe-teen moments, but I am not looking forward to the next couple of years, and I am bracing myself against everything that’s coming at us.

First world problem, I know.

I think we've hit the parts of parenting that neither of us was prepared for; we had the kids with the intent to raise them into self reliant adults, and hoped that along the way we could instill values in them that would become part of who they are, and for the most part I think we've accomplished that. Make no mistake, we have three teenagers in the house (yes, I know, Kevin is not yet 13 but he might as well be; he has the eye rolling part down pat) and there are days we go to bed as exhausted as we did when they were toddlers. For the most part, they amuse us, even at their teen-worst (I suppose that's because their worst isn't all that bad, not compared to a lot of kids we know) but there are days...

They're reaching towards problems that are pushing into adult territory, and we don't always know what to do about it. Alex, especially. He's 16 going on 30, he's in a relationship that's grown closer than I would like (read into that what you will, and you'll probably be right) and he's as serious and committed to it as he can possibly be at this age; he's also trying to figure out a way to break his own heart without breaking his girlfriend's.

He doesn't want to break up with her, but it occurred to him recently that he may effectively be doing that at the end of next summer. The realization hit him as he was pouring over information on a few potential colleges he's considering for when he's done at the community college. He's wrestling with what to do, stay here and go to school locally, which might not be in his best long term interest, or go away to school and risk distance being something that comes between them.

His realization has lead to many evenings spent sitting by the pool, in the cold, while he contemplates what he's going to do. It's almost as hard on us because we can't really tell him what to do; we can point out some obvious things, like email and texting and cell phones, and the fact that going away to school doesn't mean staying away for good. There are holidays and weekends, and unless he winds up overseas somehow he can always come home when he feels the need. We can also bite our tongues and avoid telling him that some distance might do them both some good; they're too young to be living life as if they're going to be together forever, and it might give them both some perspective.

I also can't tell him that most of me wants him to stay home and go to school here. I'm not ready to send my son out into the world and I don't imagine that I will be in 9 months. He won't be quite 17 when the next school year begins. When he was born my idea of being his mother had him here with us until he was 22 and graduating from college.

He relies more on his father when it comes to talking this out, which is good because I'm not sure I can avoid telling him how badly I want him to stay home. Ian is capable of helping him weight the pros and cons and making sure that the primary consideration is Alex's entire future, not his mother's feelings, and not his girlfriend's.

But still, he knows that if he chooses to leave, even if he can find a way to do it and not hurt Stephanie, he'll be breaking his own heart by going. And the collateral from that just isn't something I was ever prepared to have to deal with.

My dad let me leave at 18; he sent me clear across the country, and I had no idea how hard that was for him, not until I started thinking about Alex leaving. My dad let me go because it really was the best for me. I know that if Alex chooses a school out of state that it will be because it's the best for him, but I don't have to like it. And I suppose he doesn't have to, either.