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News & Events January 2008
31 January 2008
Sydney Morning Herald
Dads find ways to work around long hours
By Adele Horin
Long work hours are not the main reason many fathers spend little time
with their children. Rather they lack the motivation, skills and
interest to get involved, or their wife's encouragement to do so, a
study reveals.
It shows some fathers who work 55 hours or more a week spend just as
much time playing with their children, reading to them, and being
involved in their everyday activities as some fathers who work
standard hours.
The research, by the Australian Institute of Family Studies, from a
sample of more than 3000 fathers, says "clearly some fathers ensured
their family time was not compromised by their work demands, even if
those work demands were significant".
The findings run counter to other Australian research that found many
fathers felt their work hours were a big barrier to their ability to
be the father they would like to be and that many children of fathers
who worked long hours wanted more time with them.
"Even among those fathers working shorter hours there were some
fathers who didn't devote as much time to their children as fathers
who worked long hours," the study's author, Jennifer Baxter, said.
Fathers were more likely to be involved, regardless of work hours, if
their children were boys, if the fathers were more highly educated, if
their wives worked full-time and if they had a happy relationship with
their wives. As well, high levels of motivation, skills and support
from the child's mother were likely to be factors, Dr Baxter said.
"Very little of the variation was explained by the father's work
hours," the report concludes.
The study shows, however, that, on average, men who worked 55 hours or
more a week spent the least amount of time playing indoor or outdoor
games with their children or involving them in everyday activities,
although they spent the same amount of time reading to them as other
fathers. They spent two hours and 12 minutes a day with their children
compared with two hours and 42 minutes for those who worked 45-54
hours a week. Fathers who worked 35-44 hours a week spent two hours 54
minutes with their children.
Richard Fletcher, of the University of Newcastle's Family Action
Centre, said the five-year Engaging Fathers Project he ran showed that
"if you think just fixing working hours will mean fathers will be
involved in their children's lives, you are mistaken. Fathers first
need to perceive their involvement as important to their children's
development and wellbeing."
He said when the project arranged a lunchtime activity for fathers at
a child-care centre - and the invitation came from their children -
"fathers were very creative about finding ways to be there, some
perfectly legal, such as rostered days off, others not so legal".
Barbara Pocock, director of the Centre for Work and Life at the
University of South Australia, said many long hours fathers "battle to
get the time they would like and need with their children but it's not
just about hours, it's about flexibility and intensification of work,
too".
For Andrew Cartwright, an IT manager from Randwick, flexibility has
been the key that has allowed him to coach the football teams of his
son, Dylan, 13, and daughter Estelle, 9, since they were able to don
boots at the age of five. Though he works, on average, 55 hours a
week, "I get an early mark for coaching as long as I make it up on
other days. You have to want to do it," he said. "You have to want to
be involved."
27 January 2008
Sunday Life Magazine
It's my divorce, too
By Claire Scobie
For the children, divorce can be a minefield of parental absences, new
homes, new rules - and even new family members. Here, kids who have been
through the "big bang" talk about how the separation affected their lives.
For any parent, it's a nightmare: once the decision is made to separate,
how do you tell the children? For one young boy in Sydney's eastern
suburbs and his brothers, "that chat" came one weekend two years ago. "It was
really scary," says the 10-year-old. "Mum and Dad said, 'We'll need some
time apart.' My brother, who is eight, said, 'I feel like skateboarding.'
He didn't get the blast then; he got the big bang a bit later."
The year 6 student had already known something was amiss because his
parents had been disappearing into the garage in the weeks before. So he
hid the baby monitor in there to find out what was going on: "I wanted to
see - to record - and they were arguing. I don't want that again."
According to 2006 figures from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, about
half the 50,000 Australian divorces annually involve children - a figure
that doesn't include de facto relationships. Yet their voices are rarely
heard.
Until now, much of the legal and psychological attention has focused on
how a child reacts to the "big bang" and its aftershocks. However, new
research from the US by psychologist Judith Wallerstein, who has studied the
long-term effects of divorce for 25 years, suggests that the critical
experience for the child comes much later, when new family units are being
built. If there was any disparity in how siblings were treated by parents
or step-parents in the new set-up, she reports, "one or more children
showed serious psychological and learning problems".
In those cases where children are too young to remember, the initial shock
seems easier to bear. Ben Andronicus, 16, has no clear memories of his
parents together as they split when he was three. He's convinced that it's
"worked out better because I've grown up used to it".
Street-wise yet thoughtful, with blond hair and an earring, Ben divides
his time between his dad, Philip Andronicus, 56, in Sydney's Darlinghurst and
his mum, Nicola Tomlin, and half-sister, Indira, 9, an hour's drive away
in Berowra. Until two years ago, he stayed with Philip, a builder, on
weekends. Now it's a 50/50 split.
Since July 2006, a quiet revolution has been going on in family law,
following the amendment to the Family Law (Shared Parental Responsibility)
Act. The changes recognise a child's right to a meaningful relationship
with both parents (except where violence or child abuse are involved) and
encourages mediation with the assistance of nationwide Family Relationship
Centres.
"Instead of saying we'll ration out appointed time to Dad with access or
visitation, we say we'll now start halfway," says psychologist Jill
Burrett, co-author with Michael Green of the book Shared Parenting:
Raising
Your Children Cooperatively After Separation. But there's a long way to
go: 80 per cent of children from separated families still live in sole-mother
custody arrangements and as many as one third have little or no contact
with their father. "Still, if children sense their parents want a 50/50
timeshare because each parent can't bear the other having more time," says
Burrett, "the children feel more like possessions to be fought over than
people to be loved."
This sense of being an emotional football is deeply corrosive. Ben says
that he "never had divided loyalties" and loves both his parents equally.
He believes that's because, generally, they got on. That is until last
year, when they fell out over financial issues. "Then I was in the
middle," he says, grinning sheepishly. "So I could get away with a lot - I'd say I
was at one place when I wasn't and they wouldn't check because Mum
wouldn't talk to Dad."
After 15 years of controlling her emotions, Nicola Tomlin, Ben's
48-year-old mother, let go. "It was horrible. Poisonous," she says. "It
was very hard on Ben, who was shocked to see how angry (with Philip) I was."
Tomlin took two part-time jobs on top of her day job as an editor and Ben
had to take on more responsibility, babysitting his younger sister. His
schoolwork suffered. "Year 9 he was all over the place," says Tomlin. "One
time he was out till 2am. Then I had to have words with his father."
Subsequently, his parents are talking again and Philip pays for his son's
private education. There's a downside, though, for Ben, who "has to deal
with us being a team again," laughs Tomlin.
Although the law promotes shared parenting, it's a model that doesn't
always work with infants, "who can inadvertently lose attachment with both
parents," says Dr Jenn McIntosh, adjunct associate professor at La Trobe
University's school of public health and the clinical director of Family
Transitions, a family psychology consultancy. "It's a huge developmental
dilemma for infants and toddlers when given shared time between parents. A
two-year-old can't cope with four overnights away from their primary
carer. It's terribly important for adults to get the pace right. Teens often cope
better - or with their feet."
When John Morse, 61, and Lucy Markovich, 40, separated after seven years
in 2000, they eased into co-parenting as their daughter, Juliette, grew
older.
"I felt very strongly that I didn't want to be a father who got access
every second weekend," says Morse, chairman of Tourism Victoria. Juliette,
now 10, generally spends one week each with her parents. "Sometimes she'll
spend more time with her mum. She's old enough to have a say where she
wants to be under our guidance."
Wearing a flowery dress in the backyard of Morse's downtown Sydney
terrace, the sparkly Juliette poses for the camera while her dad looks on dotingly.
"I don't have a nine-to-five job. I've got time to give her my undivided
attention," says Morse, who also has three older sons from his first
marriage. Morse, who collects Aboriginal art, has exposed Juliette to
different cultures through their travels around Australia. Meanwhile, she
plugs him into the pre-teen world.
But dads can be embarrassing. "He sings and dances in front of my
friends," she rolls her eyes. "It's more difficult now I'm getting older. I can't
tell Dad stuff - who I like, boys - the way I could before." It's not
uncommon for fathers to have a harder time relating to their adolescent
daughters as they grow up: the girls prefer to be out shopping with Mum.
John indulges his daughter, complains his ex; Juliette says her mum is
strict. Two homes means two sets of rules. "In traditional families,
mothers are good at the warm, fuzzy things; fathers at fun and
discipline," says Jill Burrett. "Both need to become all-rounders when they separate.
The mother's got to be tougher than before."
Two homes mean parallel, shiftwork parenting. You're either on or off
duty. It's also two of everything. "I like that. I get two sets of clothes,"
says Juliette. "If they were together, I wouldn't spend as much time - quality
time - with them as I do." But being a yo-yo is tiring - especially for
early teens whose hormones are haywire. For Ben, having two houses is
ideal. "My friends are jealous. You can be irritated by parents, so 50/50
is just right. Just before the part where it gets irritating, you swap."
Shared parental care also doesn't work where there's ongoing conflict,
says McIntosh. "These children live between two deeply divided worlds and they
become a divided - rather than a shared - child. They have to cross a
no-man's land and put up with hostile fire from one parent about the
other."
Indeed, exposure to conflict is the clincher, says Dr Susie Sweeper, a
psychology lecturer at Deakin University's school of psychology, who also
runs post-separation parenting groups at the Family Mediation Centres in
Victoria. "Arguing when the child has gone to bed doesn't mean they're not
listening," she warns. "A telephone conversation with a best friend
bagging the partner is still exposure."
As children don't have the developmental tools to deal with or even
understand their emotions, trauma-type reactions can develop: anxiety,
aggression, rejection of one parent. The boy whose response to his
parents' split was to want to go skateboarding, says, "It took some time to realise
Dad wouldn't be back. I didn't feel angry, just frustrated." A year after
the separation, his mum reported more tantrums. Two years on from "that
chat", he and his two brothers now see their father every weekend and
things have settled. "I'm sad because I don't see Dad as much," he says.
"I miss him [but] I feel happy in myself. I'm less frustrated."
Sweeper's advice is to make the post-separation relationship as
businesslike as possible: texts, emails, shared contact schedules. "Our
research shows that if there's poor communication between parents after
separation, it will generally not improve over time."
When architect Chris Langton, 58, arrives at the house of his ex-wife,
Joanne Langton, in Mullumbimby, northern NSW, he flops on the sofa. "It's
absolutely cool for him to come in the house, jump in the pool," says his
16-year-old son, Alex, at my look of surprise.
Chris is a firm believer that most damage after a break-up happens in the
first few weeks. "I was conscious about being very cool," he says, helping
himself to a biscuit. "When you've crossed the line in the sand and phoned
the lawyer, you're gone. It becomes adversarial." This reactive time is
the raison d'etre for Family Relationship Centres, according to McIntosh. If
couples can get in early and brainstorm, it can prevent the wrong die
being cast.
When the Langtons separated 13 years ago, they were in the planning stages
of building a house. "Chris was my architect," says New York-born Joanne,
55. "I thought it would be better to stick with him to avoid ill will. My
parents split when I was a teen, it was acrimonious, so I've seen the
other side of things. With the hindsight of what happened in my family, I knew
it would be much better if we all got along."
Chris built the house and Joanne kept the fridge open - complete with
Chris's favourite mayo in stock. When Alex was younger, his father would
stay over on Christmas Eves. "On Christmas morning, we'd wake up early and
he'd do a gourmet breakfast," says Alex, a gentle lad with cornflower-blue
eyes.
Even when Joanne, a yoga teacher, got together with her partner, Jeff
Dawson, nine years ago, things didn't change. "When Chris felt like it,
he'd drop by and drive Alex to school," she says. On weekends Alex would
stay with his dad on his bush property.
Such inclusiveness is, sadly, uncommon. Parents often worry, says
McIntosh, "about being usurped by the new partner. But the children are very clear
on who's who." The boy who'd recorded his parents' conversations likes that
his dad, two years on, has "a really nice girlfriend". But he was still
upset that they'd been together for six months before he knew about it. "I
don't want it to get any more serious," he says. "I like how it is now."
When the new partner becomes permanent, a different dynamic begins.
Wallerstein's latest 10-year study, which investigates step-parent and
child relationships with siblings in the post-divorce family, shows "the
struggle with the step-parent can have a negative long-term impact.
Jealousy is there but it's also whether the step-parent is emotionally
available or has a perfunctory role," says McIntosh. "When it does
develop, it's wonderful. It can also be a burden."
One mother - who was raising her two children with the father of one -
broke down when she told me: "I had to make a choice - either live in a
house where my two children were treated completely differently and
sacrifice one or bring them up alone.
I chose to bring them up alone." She hasn't brought anyone into their
lives since.
Of those children I interviewed, the majority had issues with their
step-parent. In many ways, it's unsurprising: step-parents and children
come together as strangers. Juliette finds it difficult that her mum has
an on-off relationship with her partner, Bryce, the father of her baby
stepsister. "They are together and then they're not. That's hard." Alex
Langton describes his relationship with stepdad Jeff as "better when I was
younger. We're different personalities."
The truth is, "a majority of children hold onto a fantasy of their
parents' reconciliation, even though they doubt it will occur in reality," says
McIntosh. "These yearnings in children are archetypal - a longing for
their inner world to be reconciled."
Juliette's chocolate-brown eyes soften: "If it was different, I'd want my
parents to be together." She lowers her gaze. "Sometimes we go out for
dinner but never as a family, because we aren't a family. And that's kind
of sad."
The Family Relationship Advice Line (1800 050 321) is open to children and
adults from 8am to 8pm, Monday to Friday, and 10am to 4pm on Saturday,
except public holidays.
25 January 2008
Dads Divorce (USA)
Study: Divorce Affects Father-Child Relations
By Allison Jackovitz
A team of Penn State (USA) researchers has discovered that in families
with divorced parents, the emotional distance is the greatest between teenagers
and their fathers, with repercussions affecting the children into their
college years.
Alan Booth, a sociology and human development professor, found that while
distancing increases between children and fathers after a divorce,
relationships between teens and their mothers are less affected.
Booth attributed these findings to the fact that fathers typically have
less communication and contact with children after divorce than mothers,
as mothers are usually awarded custody.
"Most children end up residing with their mother and are, therefore,
closer to their mother," he said.
Booth explained that while statistics show fathers have become more active
parents over the past few decades, they are usually less interested and
involved with children than mothers are.
"Even when both parents are present, there is a tendency for mothers to be
more involved with children, especially approaching and during teenage
years," Booth said. "Fathers tend to be more involved when children are
young while mothers tend to be consistently involved."
The person who leaves the household, typically the father, is at an
extreme disadvantage in preventing emotional distancing, as they have less
communication and contact with children, both of which are important
aspects of parent-teen relationships, Booth said.
Laura Davis (freshman-psychology) is a student with divorced parents who
experienced distancing with her father similar to that explained in
Booth's study.
"I live with my mum, so obviously I'm closer with her," Davis said. "It's
complicated because my dad never wants to stop by the house because my mum
is there."
When the father does have contact with his children, it is often in a
public setting such as a movie or a ball game, limiting the amount of
affection and spontaneous interaction that can occur between the parent
and child, Booth said.
"When we were younger, my dad used to call us and take us out to dinner,
but we were never really close to him just because he didn't live with
us," Davis said.
13 January 2008
Peter van de Voorde
THE GROWTH OF A SOCIETAL CANCER
By Peter van de Voorde
The Family Justice System has become a societal cancer, a place to be
avoided at all cost. Like any cancer, if left unchecked, it will
continue to grow, gaining momentum and eventually destroying its host
victims and subsequently the culture which supports and feeds this
malignant growth. It has removed parental rights and replaced them
with parental responsibilities. However without rights, parents are
denied their human right and duty to responsibly protect and share
the love and care of their own biological children.
We are now looking at a 35 year old cancer that has been allowed to
grow unchecked and is by far the most dangerous place for men, women
and children, to come into contact with, in the event of relationship
breakdown.
It has become a law unto itself, a dictatorship within a democracy.
Secret and seemingly untouchable, it has been allowed to grow into a
multi billion dollar industry, with many poisonous tentacles which
have gradually and unnoticeably crept into many of our institutions
and bureaucracies. These in turn have each spawned their own agencies
and pseudo expert organizations and bodies, who play host to a
variety of so called professional expert specialist advisers, who
keep feeding the cancer with a continuous supply of misinformation
and dodgy statistical data, which flows into the system, thereby
guaranteeing malignant growth.
Each tentacle of this cancer is pushing its own immoral agenda, while
at the same time comfortably feathering their nests with billions of
dollars of taxpayer funded handouts, bolstered by the funds plundered
from the hard earned family wealth of unsuspecting separating
parents.
All of this is made possible because society has unsuspectingly and
unquestionably accepted the deliberately deceptive and misleading
"Best Interest of the Child" principle. It is an obscene act of
deception to suggest that the "Best Interest of a Child" is best
served by giving children rights, when in fact they lack the autonomy
and physical ability to enact those rights and while their young
developing brains are so vulnerable to emotional, and psychological
manipulation and control.
Without question the most dangerous situation for a child to find
itself in, is when its parents are coerced into entering the Family
Court system. This ensures them being infected by this obnoxious
Family Justice cancer, which in fact will guarantee that most of them
will have their ties of kinship with many of their much loved
biological family members severed.
This cancerous industry, which hides behind the spurious "Best
Interest of the Child" principle, in order to justify the removal of
these vulnerable children from perfectly loving and responsible
family members, is a curse on the health and wellbeing of our
society. To remove those who wish to protect and play a part in the
healthy physical and emotional development of their biological
family, is universally unacceptable to a civil society.
To allow this dangerous cancer to flourish will eventually destroy
our society. We owe it to the children of today, who are the parents
of tomorrow, to relieve them of the burden of being forcibly removed
by this malignant societal cancer. If we fail to do so, history will
judge us harshly. "Parental rebellion is not a crime, it is our
obligation."
Dads In Distress is funded by the Australian Federal Government.
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