My father showed up at my house yesterday. In case you don't remember, this is my father's story.

Along with being my father, he is also a drug addict and master manipulator. Until yesterday he was living down south, in and out of homeless shelters, in and out of psych wards, in and out of various churches and occasionally he slept on the street.

I have tried, and my family has tried, to help him several times; each time, we got screwed over.

Upon seeing him this time, I got such an instant headache that I thought my head was going to explode. I sort of just stood there with my mouth hanging open.

He explained to me that he was there because he wants to get help. He asked me to help him get help.

I called my mother and told her what was going on. (They divorced when I was a baby.) She was very short and obnoxiously said to me, "The only reason that you would do anything to help him is because you want attention. He has other people to help him, let them do it." I told her I had to go.

I was stunned by the way she treated me; by the tone of her voice, and by what she said. I tried to let it go but it kept creeping back into my consciousness as I was taking my father in and out of various doctors' offices.

I realized that I think my mother may feel guilty. I'm sure if I chose a total jerk to be the father of my child (which, actually, I did) — a total jerk that can't get his life together and is a huge burden on me — I'd feel badly about it also.

I wonder if this is a common problem for divorced parents. Does anyone else have any experience with this?

As is obvious from my previous posts I've had some struggles with dealing with Levi's family. It seems that just as the point came that I was very comfortable and very happy with never having to deal with them again — they barged back into my life making all sorts of demands of me and my time.

I thank you all for your advice and no doubt, I took a lot of it to heart. After writing about how they asked for me to keep their visits with Adrian a secret, and then reading your responses I came to the realization that I just don't have the emotional energy to expel on them.

I called Levi's sister and told her that the whole scene was making me uncomfortable and that I felt that they should deal with Levi, be upfront and honest about their feelings, and then they were more than welcome to see Adrian.

His sister became irate and hung up the phone. Ten minutes later I got this email:

Faith:

I appreciate that there are things you want from us that you have not received. I cannot get an email one day asking when we will see Adrian, giving the dates that you will be away and the next day getting a call that you don't know if you want us to see him.

You are not the only one with big problems and big issues to deal with. If you decide you want us to see Adrian without out any drama, fine. If not, then we will all have to deal with the consequences, most of all Adrian.

When Adrian grows up and wants to know why he has no relationship with his father's family, believe me, you will not be able to put it only on us.

On Sunday, I apparently bribed the 11-year-old daughter of my long-lost, now divorced, male friend from college. You may remember that I recently ran into him in Grand Central Station in New York.

The bribe: Presents to make the kid like me!

It didn't start out seeming like a bribe to like me ... it just turned out that way. This was a great friend I’d lost touch with for 17 years. We were at each other’s weddings; he held my daughter when she was born, but I had never met his two daughters.

Last week he and I went out for an eight-hour, belly-laughing, catch-up dinner. This weekend was his weekend with his girls, and we had very loose tentative plans so that I might meet his daughter. On Sunday, around 5, I was on the endless check-out line at HomeGoods when he called.

He and his younger daughter were nearby. Did I want to join them for a bite?

Absolutely!

If you've ever been to a HomeGoods, you know they ambush you with impulse items while they have you held captive on the checkout line. I decided to buy the little girl a gift. A cute little, hard-cover notepad tied with ribbon.

Perfect!

But wait — maybe she would enjoy some origami to keep her busy at her Dad's house.

Perfect!

But wait — they just played tennis for 15 hours, and the colorful little ped socks with the different designs will probably come in handy, because no divorced Dad has a pair of cute matching ped socks for their little girls handy when they need them.

Perfect!

I couldn't decide so I bought all three. And how cute – I'll buy these manly, cool peds for my friend, so he doesn't feel left out.

When I got to the restaurant, I spotted them sitting together and weaved my way through the tables toward them. I felt a rush of compassion for this lovely, divorced father intently doing his best by his daughter on his weekend with her.

Busy people, who surround themselves with four kids, a husband, a wide social circle, a dog, two cats, and countless gerbils, do it because they don't like to be alone. I am one of those people.

My girlfriends, therefore, called me crazy when I told them I was going to go without a date for the next month.

I had no idea it was going to be so hard. Unplugging the phone and suspending the match.com account has not been without ramifications. The first night was horrible.

It reminded me of the first weeks of being separated.

The first thing I did Friday night after work was turn the lights down and turn the radio up. With the scent of candles wafting through the house, I ran a bath and decided to concentrate on "me" time.

Normally the kids would be watching TV in the living room, asking for second helpings of dinner. On nights when the kids are with their Dad, I'd be out for drinks with friends.

Weekends post-divorce, I'd usually be juggling a man, or two.

But not this month. This is solo month and I'm determined to find out what makes me tick.

There is no choice but to succeed. If I can't wrestle some quiet time into my hectic life, then nothing is going to change from the days when I was married.

By 8 o'clock I'd downed two glasses of wine and was feeling weepy. Wine churning around in an empty stomach, and the silence of a childless house, were enough to make me run screaming from the suburbs.

When the divorce was first under way, I'd thought about getting an apartment in the city. My ex told me that he'd make life with the children impossible if I did that, so I'd reneged, a good choice for the kids, but a tough sacrifice for a middle-age woman alone in a house in the middle of August, with nothing but the crickets chirping outside.

It might as well have been Stephen King's Maine.

I'm so tired of the shady nonsense that goes on in Levi's side of the family. As I wrote before, Levis' mom emailed and asked to see Adrian, then Levi's sister, Erica, also called and asked. We spoke and everything seemed fine.

I still had that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, but decided that it was just because of all of the drama that has transpired between us in the past few years.

Then I got another phone call from Erica. She sounded stressed out and out of breath, and asked if I could talk for a second. I said "sure." She reiterated again that she wanted to see Adrian — that her mother really wants to see Adrian — but that they were worried about the way that Levi would react.

She told me that they cannot control what Levi does, or in this case does not do, and that they decided that it is best that Levi not be told that they are taking an interest in Adrian.

Translation: Don't tell Levi that we are talking to you or your son.

I suppose that I really don't care. I mean, I believe that Adrian is really, at this point, my son and who he visits with is none of Levi's business. However, I'm not interested in anymore of their drama. And, knowing them, Levi will find out and inevitably somehow I will end up the bad guy.

So, I'm back to being torn again. Do I just play along and allow Adrian to develop a relationship with his aunt and grandmother behind his father's back? Or do I tell them to work out their issues with Levi — be upfront and honest — and then we'll talk?

What do you think?

"Try Match.com," my divorced friends suggested. I was skeptical. I had tried the original computer dating back in college — only for the story, mind you, not to find dates — and hadn't been much impressed — with the story I ultimately wrote or the dates. The ensuing decades had done nothing to change my mind.

Call me picky, but I just couldn't quiet my inner writer when reading the profiles. Is there anyone who doesn't like romantic dinners and walks on the beach at sunset? Besides, my computer was too slow. By the time I downloaded the pictures, the profiles had totally turned me off.

But nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I tiptoed into Internet dating and created a semi-profile on Match.com (Nerve.com creeped me out too much — their sexual position of the day feature gave me the sense that this wasn't the place to find my true soul mate). Besides, I wasn't really looking for a date...but I wouldn't complain if I happened to find one.

And I did get some hits almost immediately, which progressed in short order to phone calls. And what I heard wasn't good.

One man told me he agreed to meet a girl without seeing her picture first and it turned out she was more like size 14 (not four as she claimed to be) and after five minutes of conversation told him she felt comfortable enough to tell him her secrets such as"...tried to kill myself at college...twice." Next!

Another man shared that he had been intrigued with a woman's picture and email exchanges enough to want to meet her in person. But instead of the recent law graduate he was expecting, waiting for him at their designated meeting place, was her mother, hobbling in on a cane. "But I looked just like my daughter when I was her age," was her reasoning behind posting her daughter's picture rather than her own.

Really — people lie about their weight and age?

Levi's mom emailed me the other day. She hasn't emailed me since the day after my Adrian was born. It was in that email that she told me that my son was "nothing that I should be proud of" that he "should have never been born" and that I should "give him up for adoption immediately" and that if I didn't, I shouldn't come "crying to them for help." She said all of that, amongst other things.

Needless to say, there was no love lost between the two of us.

So anyway, she emailed me last week, totally out of left field to tell me that she now feels that Adrian should have contact with them (herself and her husband) and she'd like me to bring Adrian to see them on Saturday.

My initial thought was to say something along the lines of f*#k you, you've done nothing but be horrible people for two years. I mean, not only did they condone their son's really shitty behavior but they also allowed us to suffer. They haven't offered a dime in child support to us or an ounce of help.

Seriously, they haven't even bought my son a t-shirt since he's been born, and they are more than capable financially. So when I say they've done nothing, they have really done nothing.

But instead of instantly reacting, I decided to think about it. I decided to think about what was really pissing me off. I came up with this:

Their behavior toward me after Levi left really hurt me.

The fact that they refused to acknowledge my son really hurt me.

The fact that they are more than capable to contribute to my son's life but didn't really hurt me.

The fact that they condoned their son's behavior towards myself and our son really hurt me.

See a lot of me in there?

The conclusion I came up with is that its really all about...me. I'm angry with them because of the way they treated me.

I distinctly remember the pills. When Levi left me, I couldn't sleep and my doctor prescribed me some pretty powerful sleeping pills — even though I was pregnant...

Sometimes when I have a calm moment, which are few and far between, I find myself thinking of all the things that have changed in my life over the last year. It reminds me of that quote, "The only thing that ever stays the same is change." I had never realized before how true that really is. Nothing stays the same — even the best things.

My divorce practically started on the eve of my son's birth. Several emotions all crammed into one — all conflicting — rendered me an absolute mess.

I remember thinking I would never be happy again. I remember worrying about how I was going to support a baby by myself. I remember scrounging for change in between the couch cushions for diapers, thinking things couldn't possibly be any worse.

I remember feeling abandoned and hopeless. I couldn't see the light.

I remember one night — which I haven't told anybody about until now — I was lying in bed, in a house all by myself, totally exhausted from being up all day and night with an infant, all by myself.

I remember realizing that it was cold and walking over to the thermostat to see that the temperature was dropping. No heat, no money for oil. I dressed the baby in warm clothes and put him in bed with me. I remember lying there, wanting to cry, but nothing would come out. I was too exhausted for tears.

It was then that I remembered the pills. My doctor prescribed me some pretty powerful sleeping pills when Levi took off — even though I was pregnant. He also gave me an anti-depressant.

I hadn't taken very many of them, but for some reason I still had them in the cabinet. I remember thinking to myself that I should just go downstairs and take those pills.

I wanted to give up.

Summer has many associations. We look forward to sunlight, warm weather, BBQ’s and children being home…but not to someone else’s children being home, say your husband’s children with his former wife.

Instead of the children stopping by for a night or two once a week, these children arrive for two weeks, maybe a month.

All of a sudden the bleak, quiet days of winter seem compelling.

Dealing with your own children requires being thoughtful, calm, and present. Dealing with your stepchildren requires the same but with even more patience and reflection, so you can respond with integrity.

And then there are the frictions between your own children and their step-siblings in various outings and occasions.

I’d say it’s time for a cocktail and a few deep breaths — and possibly a series of mini-vacations, with one set of children at a time.

Even extremely evolved couples can fall prey to the blame game. Who made the mess in the kitchen? Left the front door open so the dog ran out? Broke my favorite bowl? Who?

It’s so easy to suspect your partner’s children from the previous marriage. Not only are your children perfect, but if you blame his children, that’s one less altercation with your own.

On the other hand, as a step-mother, you want to make sure that the step-siblings are having a good time.

The result this summer is that I am making everyone’s favorite dishes, driving them thither and yon, and attending to their needs at all times.

Trying to please children (who are always self-involved creatures) evokes Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill.

No sooner do you feel the glory of a job well done than there is another demand.

And chances are you are never thanked for anything you do.

Sometimes you just can’t win.

Single parenting is stress. It is about learning how to juggle and balance your life. It is about learning to expect the unexpected. It is 2 AM trips to the Emergency Room, all alone.

It is explaining to your boss that you can't come in to work, again. It's about scrounging change to buy diapers. It's about driving to the local Family Court (who named it that anyway?) and filling out form after form.

It's about sitting in court houses for hours and hours only to end up with some stupid piece of useless paper.

Single parenting is frustrating. It's about feeling as if you never have one second to yourself. It's never being allowed to shut the bathroom door – ever.

It's never being able to blast loud music in your car with the windows down. It's never having time to talk to, or see, your friends.

It's not having a hair cut in two years.

Single parenting is frantic. It's leaving your house and realizing that you've got two different shoes on, or worse, you don't have on any shoes at all.

It's rushing through the grocery store at 7 AM, so that you can get in enough hours at work. It's rushing to pick your kid up at daycare so that they don't charge you the one-dollar per minute late fee after 6 PM.

Single parenting is lonely. Single parenting is single. There are times when it feels like there is nobody on Earth who could possibly understand how you feel.

Single parenting is depressing. It's about taking your kid to the park and seeing all of the happy families. It is about seeing a father play with his son and wanting to throw up.

Single parenting is embarrassing. It's about waiting for that dreaded question, "Where's his father?" or, even worse, comments like, "Oh his father must be so proud!"

It's about wishing that people were more sensitive to holidays like Fathers Fay and Mothers Day.