I Have a Hard Rule About the Men I Date and My Daughter. I’m Scared It Could Backfire.

Care and Feeding Photo illustration by Slate. Photos by Getty Images Plus. Our advice columnists have heard it all over the years—so today we’re diving into the archives of Care and Feeding to share classic parenting letters with our readers. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here. Dear Care and Feeding, I have a question, but first some quick background. I am a single mother to an amazing 8-year-old girl. Her father and I divorced four years ago, and I spent the first three years of that time muscling my way through low-grade depression and working to stabilize our lives. I feel like I’m emerging from that long funk, and the little world I’ve made for my daughter and myself is stable and good. Now that I feel more myself again, I’ve started thinking about dating and new relationships. I have zero interest or intention of introducing my daughter to anyone I would date. There are a few reasons for this: 1) I really cherish our relationship and don’t want to disrupt that, even though I know it will evolve and change over the years nonetheless. 2) Childhood is just so short—there’s only 10 years before she’s off to college—and I don’t want to miss moments with her because of some dude. 3) My custody schedule with her father is such that I could have a relationship/date without her ever having to meet anyone. 4) My work deals with child abuse and as a result, I do not have a very charitable opinion of the stepdads and boyfriends that many women choose to bring around their children. However, I do have one concern about taking such an approach to post-divorce romance.Would I be depriving her of seeing what a healthy romantic relationship looks like (assuming I could achieve that)? Kids pick up so much from what their parents model. How will she learn to navigate romantic relationships for herself? She doesn’t remember when her dad and I were together, and he’s not going to be the one setting that example anytime soon. Am I selling her short here? I would love any insight you might have. —Mom Solo Dear MS, Your concerns are valid, to be clear. Choosing the right partner isn’t simply a matter of pleasure or love for women, it can also be a matter of life and death, and as you know from your professional work, the consequences of dating Mr. Wrong can also have a devastating impact on your child. And even with an equitable division of responsibility between you and your ex, a romantic relationship can create distractions, both large (healing from a bad breakup, caring for a sick mate) and small (missing a recital because it fell during a romantic getaway, missing a call from your kiddo due to, ahem, adult time). Society often presents us with the notion that moms (regardless of marital status) exist primarily to serve their families and that if a mom prioritizes herself it comes at the detriment of that responsibility. That isn’t true, and one of the most important things that we can do for our children—particularly as mothers of daughters and most particularly as single mothers of daughters—is model what a fulfilling, well-rounded adult life can look like. That means making an effort to prioritize our health, careers, friendships, bonds with other family members, hobbies, and, for those of us who are interested in doing so, our love lives. This is not an easy balancing act, but neither is being an all-sacrificing mother. You can and should do all of those things without it coming at any great expense to your relationship with your child. There’s no need for your daughter to meet someone you’re dating casually, nor a new partner who seems promising in the long term. However, you can talk to her about the process of dating and share age-appropriate tidbits here and there in hopes of helping her understand what courtship should look like: “There was someone I was dating for a little while last year. He was really nice, but I didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about me, so I chose to break things off. You can’t use someone for attention or affection.” “I really liked this one guy, but he had a bad temper. If someone doesn’t know how to treat you with kindness when he’s angry or stressed, that isn’t someone you should be dating.” Talk to her openly about what love and respect entail, what makes a great partner, and how she can eventually both exemplify and recognize those traits when she’s old enough to date. If you find yourself involved with someone you’d deem worthy of a substantive role in your own life, you can find appropriate ways to include him in your family without shortchanging your daughter. Be clear with your partners, and yourself, that maintaining a stable environment for her and meeting her needs are your top priorities, but also understand that you don’t have to put yourself on the back burner in order to do that. Let your experiences at work heighten your discernment without being unreasonably cynical. Remember that you were a human being with needs, desires, and feelings before you were a mother, and that you’re still one now. If you find that you are happiest keeping your mom life and love life separate, that’s fine, but let that be a personal choice and not a mandate based on anything beyond your own desire. I’ve been at this for more than five years myself and it’s a difficult, but fulfilling, undertaking. I’m wishing you all the best as you embrace your place in the “Momma Gotta Have a Life Too” club. —Jamilah Lemieux From: I’m Ready to Start Dating After My Divorce. Can I Keep It From My 8-Year-Old? (November 6th, 2019). Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don‘t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Dear Care and Feeding, My 4-year-old daughter is an adorable little liar. She makes up stories and tells them, very convincingly, all the time. A sampling from the last month: She is allergic to cucumbers, her teacher sleeps in the classroom over the weekend, her father drove her to another state on the way back from school, a friend climbed onto the roof of the school. I can tell that at least sometimes she knows the difference between what’s real and what’s not (if I tell her that I’m going to call her friend’s parents and check, she tells me not to). Other times, she seems to have genuinely convinced herself that the story she’s made up is true. Today, when I picked her up from preschool, she told me her teacher had hit her. I know this is a lie because (a) as I said, she lies; (b) I know the teacher; and (c) I know the layout and schedule of the school—I don’t see how a teacher could hit a student without other people seeing it. (But really, the main reason I don’t believe her is because this is the kind of lie she often tells.) How should I respond when she says something I don’t believe, but that would require serious attention if it were true? If I tell her I don’t believe her, what are the chances she’ll come to me with something like this if/when it is true? But If I pretend I believe her, that would mean I knew that something terrible had happened and I didn’t do anything about it. In the moment, because I wasn’t sure what to do, I avoided making a decision by changing the subject. But what do I do the next time it happens? —Liar’s Mom Dear LM, I have a special place in my heart for a child with an extra-lively verbal imagination (I was one myself and so was my daughter). But there’s a difference between lying and making things up, and this is less a matter of degree than of intention (and consequence) and it’s not too soon for your daughter to learn this. Once she does, it will be much easier for you to respond to the things she tells you. You seem completely convinced that the story of the teacher’s hitting her was an outright lie, so I’m not going to suggest otherwise. But here’s the thing: Your daughter doesn’t seem to know the difference (yet) between pretending and lying, and given her proclivities, it would be a good idea—for a lot of reasons, not only the one you mention—to get to work now on teaching her that difference. But don’t beat yourself up for not having done this sooner. Parenting, I’ve decided, is a lot like ballet dancing, which I’ve been taking classes in for the past few years: There are a million things to think about simultaneously and every one of them seems equally important. (Plus, it’s so easy to feel like a failure—when really you are doing something beautiful, even if you’re doing it imperfectly.) I would advise that you start with a couple of basic precepts: First, at the most fundamental level, make sure your daughter knows the difference between what’s true and what’s made up. Don’t continue to rely on her fear of being caught as your only indication of how much she understands about this. Talk to her about the things she knows to be true—things she can see for herself or that you have taught her—as opposed to what has taken place only in the world of her wild imagination. Provide lots of examples of both. Second, and harder (but definitely still within reach of your 4-year-old), is helping her to recognize the difference between the joys of storytelling (an activity that doesn’t hurt anyone) and the dangers of telling lies (that might). “Did you know that I used to be a fairy princess? I was 3 inches tall and lived in that flower over there!” is a fun story to tell, and so is (ah, memories of my daughter at age 3) the whispered secret that one is “really an apatosaurus in disguise as a human child.” Trips out of state during the short drive home from school with Dad falls into the category of let’s pretend. Declaring that one has been hit by the teacher when one has not falls into the danger zone. If your daughter wants to know why this made-up tale is dangerous, not fun, you can tell her about consequences—which it’s time she learned about anyway. Are there made-up stories that will less clearly fall into one category or the other? Sure. And you’ll have to decide where the line is. I myself would give a pass to the invented allergy to cucumbers, which allows her to avoid a food I’m guessing she dislikes without stirring up the trouble that such an admission might (grown-ups so often dislike it when children express their preferences, as if they’re not supposed to have them). But you might feel that this counts as a bald-faced lie, and that’s your prerogative (and it may well not be cool, especially in today’s preschool classroom, to invoke the word “allergy” unless it’s true, because it could undermine the legitimacy of other children’s real, life-threatening allergies). I want to acknowledge that, in some families, there is no distinction to be made between pretending and lying, and that I’m assuming you want to encourage your daughter’s extravagant imagination. (Honestly, a kid with the kind of mind you describe stands a decent chance of growing up to be a fiction writer, a stand-up comic, or the next Shonda Rhimes.) But even if do you want to encourage her creativity and ingenuity, I’d be wary of calling her an “adorable little liar,” which puts the emphasis on the lies and makes it sound like you think they’re mostly cute. (You don’t want her to grow up to be a criminal—or a politician—do you?) —Michelle Herman From: My Husband Says Our Daughters’ Clothes Are “Too Sexy.” How Do I Stop His Implied Slut-Shaming? (September 29th, 2019). Dear Care and Feeding, I’m a 37-year-old with a 6-year-old daughter and a baby on the way … and I completely dislike being a father. Despite some challenges, most of the other moms and dads I know say they find the experience of being a parent to be joyful. I feel just the opposite, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to find happiness in any part of the process. What’s all the more confusing is that people who observe me with my daughter, including her mother, say that I’m a good father. Speaking of my daughter’s mother, our relationship is complicated at best. We’ve lived separately for about three years, but we spend time together as a family on weekends and holidays. We have years of built-up resentment toward one another, and counseling has not helped at all. We can barely stand to be in the same room together most times, but there was one night where stress and lust got the better of both of us, which led to her current pregnancy. I was adamantly against having a second child considering our challenges in co-parenting and how we feel about one another, as well as the emotional, financial, and physical costs. However, my daughter’s mother wanted to keep the baby because she is older and this may be her last chance, she’s always wanted more than one child, and she didn’t feel she could or should have an abortion. As we get closer to the due date, I find myself more withdrawn and depressed. Friends, family members, and my therapist all say I need to focus on creating happiness for myself. I’m developing feelings of guilt because I feel like I’m happier when I’m not around my daughter and her mother. Despite how I feel, I have no intent to abandon my children. Am I just a typical selfish male, or do other people hate being parents? What are some techniques I can use to bring even a little joy into parenting? —Dad Is Sad Dear DIS, I’m glad to hear that you’re in therapy and encourage you to stick with it. It’s unclear if your issues with depression predate the situation with your kids’ mom, but the circumstances surrounding the births of your children are certainly complicated enough to take a substantial toll on your well-being. Even if that weren’t the case, plenty of parents struggle to adapt to parenting under even “ideal” conditions. There may be some gender-normative stuff showing up here, but there are plenty of mothers and other caregivers who share your issues. If you were “a typical selfish male,” you wouldn’t be taking the time to address how you’re feeling. Instead, you’re taking a proactive approach and doing so before your second child is here, which is great. What are the things that bring you joy that you can do with your daughter? Adapting to parenthood isn’t simply a matter of learning to incorporate PBS Kids and Candy Land into your life, but also finding ways to enjoy your treasured hobbies, food, art, and other experiences with your little ones. Have you had a pajama dance party with her? Taken her to visit that museum you love? Read her your favorite book from when you were her age? She’ll be excited to see you enthusiastic about something, and hopefully that will help your mood to brighten as well. Also, are you making time to indulge in your beloved pastimes or do anything outside of the stress of work and family? At a time when your stress levels are high and your spirits are low, it’s important that you are taking time to enjoy yourself when and where you can. Change your environment as much as you can. Bring brighter colors into your home. Take your daughter to different grocery stores, parks, and restaurants than the ones you usually frequent. Find some new free or low-cost activities that you can do together. And please, please remain consistent with your therapist, who can help you to better understand why you’re having these challenges and what it will take for you to rise above them. Best wishes to you, Dad. —J.L. From: My Husband Refuses to Learn to Do Our Daughter’s Hair Properly. (November 20th, 2019). More Parenting Advice From Slate My wife and I fight a lot. We try to keep perspective. For instance, it’s hard to imagine that any couple with two stressful full-time jobs, little kids, and limited resources wouldn’t be fighting a bunch. 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