"Auxiliary backup parent"

I got a call from Son 2 today. He explained that he and Beryl have been fixing up their space so that they can accommodate overnight guests. And he invited me to come visit sometime. Not today, exactly [and that's fine because he lives at least an eight-hour drive from here!], but sometime when it's convenient.

It was a lovely invitation. I thanked him multiple times for it. And I have spent the rest of the day disgruntled.

Maybe it was partly because he started the call by explaining that he had just been talking to Wife, and so he figured sure, what the hell, why not call me? I forget his exact words, but somehow or other he said that of course I'm the "auxiliary backup parent," but he was in an expansive mood so he called me too. (I don't remember the overall remark, but I'm certain of those three words.) And later, as he was explaining how they have fixed up the house they're in, he mentioned that they invited Wife to come visit for Thanksgiving, Son 1 to come visit sometime in the fall to go shooting, and Beryl's brother to visit them over Christmas. And then, he said, he was left wondering, "Now who am I forgetting …?"

Very likely some of this was meant as a joke. Maybe even most of it. But of course it struck me kind of hard because it doesn't feel like a joke. Not really. 

• I've written about how I feel out of touch with the boys' lives. (See for example this post here. I feel like I've written about it in other places too, but I can't find them right now.) 
• I've written about feeling jealous that Wife talks to them a lot more than I do—and of course she is actually living with Son 1. (See for example this post from ten whole years ago, or this one that is a lot more recent.)

And Son 2's remarks re-triggered all those feelings again.

I'm writing this post because I want to force myself to think this through, instead of just reacting to the emotions.

So let me think.

Do I want the kind of relationship with the boys that Wife has? Based on what I know of it, God no. Of course theoretically it's possible that what I hear from them (mostly Son 2) is just the downside, because they might think it will cheer me up to hear bad things about her. (I say this just because they have spent so much time listening to her say terrible things about me. See, for example, this post here.) But when Son 2 tells me that Son 1 is "paying for everything and … feels like he has to hide in his room the whole time he's home," or when Son 2 speaking for himself describes Wife as a "bottomless pit of neediness," I am clear that I never want them feeling that way about me. (See in particular this post here.) Looking at this possibility, I recognize there are worse things than the status quo.

Is it really so bad to be an "auxiliary backup"? OK, this question is a little bit of a joke, because the emotional impact of that description is still there. But think about it for a minute. What do you need from an auxiliary backup? The most important criterion is that it must be reliable. It can never fail. And this is important because you aren't using it all the time, so you won't see the subtle signs that it might be getting tired or worn out. But when you are in the middle of a critical operation (or you are halfway across the Impassable Desert) and your primary unit gives out, the auxiliary backup has to work. In this sense, for me to be the "auxiliary backup parent" would mean that the boys assume they can more or less ignore me most of the time and I'll still be there. In one sense that makes me sound like a patsy; but perhaps I can interpret their confidence as flattering instead.

What kind of a relationship do I want with them instead? This is harder for me to answer. I don't want to be a pest. I don't want to be intrusive. But at the same time I'd like to have some kind of regular connection just so I know what's going on, and just so that once in a while we can spin out long conversations about whatever. Back when he was still in school (and for a while thereafter) Son 2 used to call more or less once a week. Son 1 was in touch a lot less frequently, except during the time that he lived here.

The things I have just listed, though, are outcomes. They don't describe the substance of any relationship—the structure of it, the purpose of it, the bones and sinews of it—but only the epiphenomena, the patterns you can see in the off-gassing. So the question remains, How do I get there from here?

I realize I have mulled this question before (see for example here) without coming to any conclusions.

How can I make myself more interesting? This is another issue. When we talk, what do we have to talk about?

Well, Son 2 is in graduate school. If there's nothing else, he can tell me about his research. It's a field I don't know a lot about, but I'm content to listen and ask questions. Both boys love movies, so if there's a movie that I've seen as well we can talk about that. We haven't talked about politics in a long time, but I suppose that could work too … though I don't know where they stand on any of the political issues of the day. And politics is one of these things that it has become progressively harder to talk about over time, because when people disagree they so often demonize each other.

But how about general news? Son 2 talked about how he and Beryl were fixing up their place. What have I been doing?

Not a lot. And that contributes to my having less to say. God knows I haven't been fixing up my apartment any. I went to Scotland last spring, but that was months ago; I'm going to Paris in November, but that hasn't happened yet. I'm not working right now. I write regularly for my professional blog, under my real-life name. But that's not doing something. Writing is by definition a sedentary task. And the topics that I write about are likely to interest fellow professionals, but I have never imagined that they would interest anybody else.

Then I also write here and on the Patio. But I won't discuss that with anyone that I know in real life. That's the whole point of an anonymous blog.

Probably the answer is the same as the answer to some of my other conundrums about how I'm living these days: Get off the damned computer and go out into the world. Interact with other people. Go back to volunteering. Then at the very least I'll have more funny stories to tell, when I do get a chance to talk to the boys. Also, if I have more social contacts in general I won't fret so much about my contacts with them being comparatively fewer.

Easy to say. Harder to do. But all good things are hard. Aren't they?