Oh, Simple Thing, Where Have You Gone?

Here are some stairs heading down.

All this recent talk of Father's Day and dad's and blah, blah, blah, got me thinking about my own history with dad type figures...Well, that and the fact that Stinky is having HUGE issues with her father right now.

If you couldn't tell by my sad, sorry dating past, I haven't had the best male role models growing up. My dad disappeared when I was four and the few memories I do have, were of him being on the emotionally distant side. Then at ten, my uncle became my legal guardian and he was violent and abusive, and mean in general. Not surprisingly, my relationships have been with men who were either controlling and angry or EXTREMELY emotionally unavailable.

I started dating the girls' dad when I was 22 and he was 35. At the time, it didn't occur to me how odd it was that a 35 year old man was still living the life of people my own age, or that I didn't deserve all the name calling and drama he was so fond of. Of course, I finally figured that out by the time I hit my thirties and had two very young kids.

I wouldn't change a thing, because it gave me my girls. I just feel bad that they have to deal with the bad decision in a partner I made when I was too young to know better, for the rest of their lives.

When the girls were younger, Coadster told me that even though she wanted to stay at her dad's house, she sometimes felt abandoned by me when her dad was on a tear. We solved that problem, by me calling during their dad's night and if he was behaving badly, Coadster would tell me she didn't feel well. He'd rather not have to deal with them when there was a possibility of them being difficult, so I would tell him one of them were sick and I'd pick them up and take care of them.

Lately, Stinky has been having real issues with her dad. She doesn't feel like she should have to put up with his swearing at her, calling her names and "borrowing" her babysitting and birthday money and not paying her back. I agree. She has decided not to go to his house for the rest of the Summer and reevaluate in the Fall. I tried a couple of times to get them to talk things out, but he got even more upset and sent her some horrible texts that would be appalling from a high school boy, let alone a man in his fifties. All I can do at this point, is support her in her decision. I try really hard not to trash their dad, because they love him and they are after all, half him. But I do want to make sure they know that all of that bad stuff he lays on them are his issues and he says those mean things to them because he is messed-up and unhappy. It's just a tricky, icky, sticky situation.

We're All the Same Whatever We Do

Hey, lookee here. Stinky was finally able to take pictures of herself outside this weekend. And, the best thing was, there's no snow on the ground. Of course, now it just rains every day, but I was the one who was dumb enough to choose to live in Iowa, so I really have to just shut-up and take it, right?

First, I want to thank everyone for all your well wishing. It must have really helped later in the day. I woke up this morning and still felt like shit. The rest of the day looked like this: Felt like shit, felt like shit, felt like shit - then around 5 o'clock I had a total turn around and felt a million times better. The drag was that it seemed like I wasted two full days while I slept and watched movies and then slept some more. But I must have needed it.

Now I'll try to be raring to go for the rest of the week. I'm sure for me that means driving from soccer games to track meets to pick up tons of kids and take them to their houses. Today when I drove two of Stinky's friends who's names both started with J. home, our conversation sounded like this:

Stinky: Mom, it's J's birthday today so don't forget to say happy birthday to her...But don't say it all surly or dorky. Just say it nice and normal.

Me: (talking to the boy named J. who just got into my car) Get out!

Boy J: Oh, I'm sorry. Stinky said you'd give me a ride...

Me: I'm kidding. Get in the car.

Boy J: (talking to girl named J. who just got into the car) Get out!

Girl J: What?

Me: He doesn't mean it. I just did that to him. (to boy named J.) See? Wasn't that fun?

I wished the girl named J. a happy birthday and made sure to be all dorky and surly when I said it. Then they started talking about some other kid that goes to their school who got into a fight with the boy named J. a while back. Apparently, at some point, Stinky told the boy to stop and go home because he was losing and he did quit, but made sure to call her a bitch on his way home.

Boy J: ...He was crying too. How you gonna call someone a bitch when you're the one who's crying?

Girl J: He's also the Whitest Black person I've ever met. (both kids named J. are Black - just for reference)

Boy J: It's not that he acts White so much. It's just that he's socially retarded.

Before I could interject something (anything) about some of the issues I was having with their conversation, they quickly changed the subject to the girl J.s favorite topic - how ugly all of Stinky's boyfriends have ever been. Which is true and it's funny to watch her get all defensive about it. And now you can see why I get migraines and a bad belly from time to time. If you were stuck in a car with junior high kids for at least an hour a day, you might get a headache too.

She Can Talk to the Mangling Strangers

It's Saturday and Erik's here so I, so I don't have time to write long. Last night was nice and mellow. Mostly we hung out at K.'s house and then went down to the Dublin for a drink. I was still pretty worse for wear from the night before.

I do remember a promise from the last post that I would post some pics from Thursday night if you were all really well behaved. Since I have no way of knowing, I'll just assume were good and show you a couple of pics anyway.

Looking at the photos from that night, they were the least flattering pics I've ever seen. There are no decent ones of me, but here's one of the rest of the crew. The guy flipping you off, wandered downstairs on his first night in town and kind of took over our table. He was actually pretty amusing and then he wandered back upstairs and we never saw him again.

FMBF/DM not only allowed me to take pics of him, he actually gave me permission to put a few up on my blog. Here's him doing his eighties hair band rocker pose. It would have looked so much better, if he still had his Bon Jovi hair from high school. I do want to thank FMBF for being such a good sport since I've given him enough shit to last a lifetime in just a few short days.

You Never Do What You Know You Oughta

Coadster and Stinky, right after Coadster got her first shiner while she and her sister were jumping on the bed and Stinky's head hit Coadster's face. It was a proud, proud moment for the whole family.

Once the reality of not only having a baby, but a girl baby, sets in, a mother begins to contemplate her child's future - and stress-out hard. She worries about electrical outlets and bleach under the counter. She can see danger in big dogs, teenage drivers and scary, white van driving, child molesters. A mom will remember her own past and lose sleep thinking that someday, her daughter will have her heart broken by some pimply faced, testosterone filled loser who won't deserve her, and then that memory of getting suddenly sidelined by the group of girls, who the mother thought were her friends, rears its ugly head, and she thinks that maybe homeschooling isn't such a bad idea after all.

Last night Coadster came home early from her friend's house in tears. Apparently, there had been some weird drama and then there was an accusation and Coadster was left feeling confused and angry. I tried to find out what all the hub bub was about, and it all seemed ridiculous to me, but I do remember how all that shit was so intense when I was 15 too. Some girl was telling everyone that Coadster told her best guy friend who one of her girlfriends liked. Who cares, right? Coadster said she couldn't have even if she wanted to, because she didn't know who her friend liked.

I graciously offered to line up all those bitchy girls and slap them up Three Stooges style where I take my front hand all the way down the line and then switch to the backhand and get them all again.

"They're not worth hurting your hand over," Coadster said. Then I offered to make her some cinnamon toast and get every pillow and blanket we could find and lie around in my beautiful gigantic new bed, that I like to refer to as my comfort cocoon. I told her we could watch any movie she wanted and I'd rub her back. She was all for it, and fell asleep in less than an hour. Poor thing.

Today, after the dust had settled, and before we went to Coadster's show choir concert, she found out what really happened. It was actually only the one girl who was causing trouble, her other friends didn't even know what was going on. My friend K. calls those kind of girls, shit stirring bitches and I think it's a perfect description for people who cause that kind of drama for attention, or because they want everyone to be as unhappy as they are? I've never understood what causes people to stir up shit that way at someone else's expense.

Anyway, we got through round one last night. I have a feeling we still have several more rounds to go before the girls get old enough not to have to deal with that crap. Is it too late to start homeschooling?