so wishes keep coming true

Ouch. Some wishes manifest can look more like nightmares come true.
I had two major, overriding wishes when moving into the beast that became my divorce: One was to stop the run away locomotive that was driven by inflicting pain, confusion and manipulation so that joy could find a way into each of our lives once again. The second; to release and enable the power to be better parents and caregivers to our children-each of us in our own right-without the impeding criticism of the other. And, if this could not happen, for my boys to see the man their father was and is, and the mom I am, without me sending up flairs of exposure.
I envisioned for their father an enlightening growth and tenderhearted discovery of parental love growing from the new soil of turned commitments. Whew-hope springs eternal. Accused of being a dreamer in the past, I fervently fought against it as the cynical dig in which it was delivered; and now I hold fast to it as the only way to live. But in this instance I can honestly say I wish I'd packed away this dreaming with the china pattern and photo album.
I must accredit the breadwinner role fulfilled: A gold medal is awarded in this arena. The boys have been given more in the way of wants than I would ever ascribe to. For this I am certain they are grateful in their teenage needs.
Yet, unfortunately, the paternal role has not been scooped up and rebuilt on this new foundation. What I'd hoped would be an opportunity to grow has not been realized. The things that put the locomotive in overdrive are flying wild once again.
What does this mean for the boys I've allowed release from my primary care? What does this mean in their relation with this paternal being and the potential for growth into a healthy and rewarding relationship with their primary male role model?
I have spent two anxious nights mulling this conundrum. I have logged onto southwest.com three times-logging on, logging off, logging on....wavering in my anxiety to see the reality of what I am hearing for myself. I have sent multiple text messages, logged maximum minutes on the phone lines and composed emails in concerned hope that all was just a ruse. The wish for my boys and their father has disintigrated amidst my misplaced dreaming. Alas, I see that part of my 'hope for' in the divorce is being realized. The boys are bearing witness to the man who is their father firsthand. The flairs are exploding brightly over Okemos, Michigan and the three oldest redheads are at ground zero.
It is taking all of my strength and new found wisdom to not run in and rescue them. To not book the flight, charge the front line and save the youthful bodies from the impending doom. But I stop myself. With maternal instincts screaming, I stop myself. With the gift of gentle words from a friend in response to my frantic call for guidance-'Trish, remember what you wished for from the start?' I settle down and see what they are faced with-
-The reality of the man who is their father. The honesty of why their 'parents' dissolved into 'mom' and 'dad' before their young eyes. The father he really is-
I can not save them from this. I want to. The big part of who I am needs to. But this would just return me, as well, to the place I was as a parent in the past-a protector-a shielder-and in the end, an enabler. I can not go back. I must sit gently, pray fervently, trust explicitly and listen when they call. There is a greater force guiding their lives and in this I trust they will come out stronger, better, more whole men on the other side of learning. I can not shield them from what is there. I can only pray they are safe, strong and that this experience carries them to a better place overall.
And for me? It can not be denied that I began with guilt-for having allowed them to walk into this relationship knowing full well what could lay under the topsoil. But I know I have to move past that. I have to see this for what it is-their learning about their father and as a result-I dream another dream-becoming better human beings. My wish coming true. Ouch. in love. trish.