When I complained of his leniency, Mike was quick to remind me that I had handed authority of Ashley over to him in May, and he was doing what he thought was best. It was true that because of my resentment early on I’d felt it was wise for him to take charge, and he was eager to honestly get to know his daughter and love her for herself. But three months later I was beginning to realize my folly in delegating responsibility. Maybe he did have her best interests at heart, but I didn't see it. And it certainly didn’t mean I had no voice. It’s not like I ceased to be her mother.

I tried stay out of their business, but she just pushed too many of my buttons. On the outside, I was usually able to maintain a level of calm, but sometimes it was hard. The more Ashley blamed others for her behavior and refused to accept responsibility, the angrier I got. One of the things Mike chided me for was how I reacted when Ashley started misbehaving. She knew how to get to me, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t speak to her in a normal tone of voice. I don’t think Mike was being totally fair though- he was depressed, and it changed the way he responded to everyone. He stopped yelling, and when he got angry he either gave the unhappy victim a freezing glare or a sarcastic word. Most of these were saved for me, since he didn’t seem to pay much attention to the rest of the family, and he was always getting on my case for "provoking Ashley". I tried to tell him that I wasn’t trying to upset her, but I wasn’t going to let her walk all over me either. He made me feel like a failure.

I did have someone who seemed to understand me and the stress I was under, and that was Kerri. I guess in some quarters it’s considered a conflict of interest to have a therapist treating multiple members of the same family, but I think it worked for us. She came to know our family dynamics intimately- she counseled Ashley, Mike and me each individually, Mike and me as a couple and the three of us as a family. Knowing what was going on with us as single entities, I believe, made her a more effective marriage/family therapist and helped put the total picture together. And down the road knowing the "total picture" was going to prove crucial.

We tried another camping trip around the end of the month, and it was a disaster. I think I foresaw the problems we were going to have, and even being in the mountains didn't help much. Part of it was that I don’t like having to do all the work myself. Packing for me and four little children and doing the menu planning-shopping-stowing is not a fun way to start a vacation, but Mike was too busy with Ashley. Knowing that I would do almost all of the cooking, dishes, childcare and entertaining on the trip often made me wonder why I even bothered. But needing to get out of the house and trying to provide some sort of summer vacation for our mostly-housebound children was a priority. So when we went up for another five-day campout, and Mike spent his time as if the rest of us didn’t exist, I was angry. I don't know why I expected it to be different.

The kids were noticing the discrepancy in their dad’s behavior towards Ashley compared to them, and they didn’t like it. When they questioned him about it, he replied that Ashley was sick, and sometimes you had to sacrifice for sick people. It’s a noble idea, but it’s also a grown-up one, and little 3 to 9-year-old children couldn’t possibly understand. Yet there was Mike on our camping trip, ignoring the kids. If he wasn’t sleeping in our motorhome bedroom, he was with Ashley at the pool, in the lodge or just wandering around with her while she smoked. The load for the rest of the family fell on me, and I was resentful for me and for the young ones.

Ashley, the not-so-dumb girl, cagily watched everything going on around her. Mike and I had no private time because she was so scared we were talking about her she constantly listened in on our conversations and followed us around. As Mike continued to badger me about provoking Ashley, she started picking up on the theme. I would be minding my own business, and she would make some controversial statement or ask for something outrageous, and I’d fall for it every time. I’d try to answer calmly, but most of my replies were various ways of saying no, and she didn’t take "no" well. She’d argue back, soon voices would be raised and Mike would feel the need to step in. Of course, if I told Mike that it was her being confrontational, he didn’t believe me. He said Ashley hated my negativity and lack of understanding and didn’t think I loved her. He would appreciate me not even talking to her. I said fine, tell her to leave me alone.

It occurred to me during this camping trip that Mike had put Ashley in my place. She was his treasure, the one he spent all his time and energy on. She received the special treatment I deserved as his mate. He didn’t seem to discipline her for anything she did wrong. And who was telling who what to do? Who was in charge?

On our last day, Mike got up to take an early walk by himself. By the time I had breakfast ready, he was asleep on the bed, and when I tried to interest him in going swimming with the kids, he refused. I took them by myself. Ashley woke up late, didn’t feel like swimming but craved a cigarette, and Mike hopped up off the bed, eager to take her somewhere she could smoke in peace. She was irritable and snapped at the kids, and he didn’t correct her. This was just so unfair, and I seethed with anger. So while they were gone I whipped through the motorhome, fixing lunch for the kids while I prepared for our departure. By the time Mike and Ashley returned, I was ready to leave. The car was packed with dirty laundry and the ice chests, and I roared down the mountain, heading for home.

The rest of the family arrived two hours later. Ashley came into the house in a snotty mood and started yelling at me for "not trying to understand Daddy". I looked at her and told her to mind her own business, our relationship was not her concern and she had enough of her own problems. She said I was wrong, and I told her to “button it”. I could not believe my 15 year old daughter was talking to me this way. It was as if she had been elevated to the position of wife in the home while my role diminished to that of a child. And what made it all the worse was Mike taking her side when the argument heated up and blaming me for antagonizing her. I just left the family to empty the motorhome, grabbed my purse and headed out the door for a half-hour drive to clear my brain.