“They have forty registers, and at the most only 20 are ever opened,” the woman in front of me griped. She frowned at the closed registers. “Why did they build so many if they don’t have the man power?”
Because they are built for the busiest days, Black Friday and December 24th. And also for appearances, the long line of registers, open or not does something for the human eye.
Her energy was captured in finding the wrong, instead of answering the question. She was focused on her version of justice, and not seeing the world around her. I watched her check out, and saw the half concealed roll of the eye, the momentary grimace of contempt. Her complaints blinded her to see the world in front of her.
Her disgruntled attitude affected only her. The more she complained, the less she saw of the wonderful blessings around her. The world, in joy and glory, continues just outside her narrow viewpoint.
So often I want to reach out and help people like this. Trapped in their own personal grumbling, complaining hell, I wish I could open their eyes to joy, help them see that their personal satisfaction is within their grasp.
People only hear what they want to hear, what they are prepared to hear.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Flirt to Convert
I’m just about having a hissy fit with some people. My boyfriend is of a different religion than mine. And the question I get asked is, do you think he’ll convert?
I want to throw the book in their face, scream them out. How dare they ask such an insulting question. How dare they suggest that our relationship has conditional love. That question offends me so deeply.
Believe me, I’m the first to understand that religion is an area where a couple would like to have as much in common as possible. And a spiritual foundation is vital. It embodies so many things about expectations, life cycle, value of money, and many other things. Yes, I get it. Never mind that in my faith shared faith is required for a Temple Marriage. Believe me, if you ain’t got a Temple Marriage, you’ll have your Bishop riding your case to get one. Okay, I get it. I get why shared religion is important, psychologically, I get the social aspect, and I understand the religious implications, and how it affects children raised interfaith.
But for Pete’s sake, either the gospel is the true light, and will draw people to it, or . . . . . Don’t get me started on missionary work. I believe in living your religion where people can see is missionary work, and if they want to know more, tell them more when they are ready. If the gospel is true, living my faith day to day, openly talking about matters will be enough. I have one friend who converted thru my testimony. Have a bit more confidence in our Heavenly Father, and His ability to show people the truth, when they are ready and open. My blabbing mouth is not necessary to convert another person. The gospel is true if I open my mouth or not. Heavenly Father doesn’t need me arguing with my boyfriend to make his truth any more true. The truth is pure, simple, and simply exsists.
And don’t get me started on expectations, and conditional love. My ex husband always wanted me to loose about 50lbs. The more he talked about it, griped about it, the more I knew he couldn’t care less about ME. All he cared about was getting a skinny trophy wife. I refuse to put expectations on my boyfriend. Either he is good enough, just as he is, or he isn’t. Changing his religion doesn’t change who he is. It doesn’t change how he talks to me, it doesn’t change how he holds me, and it doesn’t change how he looks me straight in the eye, going deep for the soul.
No, my boyfriend will not be taking the missionary discussion. No, he will not be converting. He will never share the same faith as I do, and I’m fine with that.
He will openly talk about faith. We have wonderful discussions about religion in which we find that we each share many of the same ideas, with slightly different perspectives. He is a righteous man, devout in his own faith. He doesn’t just give the outward signs, but he truly lives his religion. I respect that and applaud that. And the man gives me the same respect for living my faith.
It is enough.
I want to throw the book in their face, scream them out. How dare they ask such an insulting question. How dare they suggest that our relationship has conditional love. That question offends me so deeply.
Believe me, I’m the first to understand that religion is an area where a couple would like to have as much in common as possible. And a spiritual foundation is vital. It embodies so many things about expectations, life cycle, value of money, and many other things. Yes, I get it. Never mind that in my faith shared faith is required for a Temple Marriage. Believe me, if you ain’t got a Temple Marriage, you’ll have your Bishop riding your case to get one. Okay, I get it. I get why shared religion is important, psychologically, I get the social aspect, and I understand the religious implications, and how it affects children raised interfaith.
But for Pete’s sake, either the gospel is the true light, and will draw people to it, or . . . . . Don’t get me started on missionary work. I believe in living your religion where people can see is missionary work, and if they want to know more, tell them more when they are ready. If the gospel is true, living my faith day to day, openly talking about matters will be enough. I have one friend who converted thru my testimony. Have a bit more confidence in our Heavenly Father, and His ability to show people the truth, when they are ready and open. My blabbing mouth is not necessary to convert another person. The gospel is true if I open my mouth or not. Heavenly Father doesn’t need me arguing with my boyfriend to make his truth any more true. The truth is pure, simple, and simply exsists.
And don’t get me started on expectations, and conditional love. My ex husband always wanted me to loose about 50lbs. The more he talked about it, griped about it, the more I knew he couldn’t care less about ME. All he cared about was getting a skinny trophy wife. I refuse to put expectations on my boyfriend. Either he is good enough, just as he is, or he isn’t. Changing his religion doesn’t change who he is. It doesn’t change how he talks to me, it doesn’t change how he holds me, and it doesn’t change how he looks me straight in the eye, going deep for the soul.
No, my boyfriend will not be taking the missionary discussion. No, he will not be converting. He will never share the same faith as I do, and I’m fine with that.
He will openly talk about faith. We have wonderful discussions about religion in which we find that we each share many of the same ideas, with slightly different perspectives. He is a righteous man, devout in his own faith. He doesn’t just give the outward signs, but he truly lives his religion. I respect that and applaud that. And the man gives me the same respect for living my faith.
It is enough.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Food up, kid down
“Food up, kid down.” I said, my mantra when my children decide they don’t want to eat what’s on the table. Food goes up, and kid gets down. End of meal.
Of course, since my kids are smart, clever little people, ten minutes later, “Mommy, can I get a snack?”
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s so sad: I give snacks to kids who eat all their dinner. But I promise, we’ll have breakfast in the morning.”
My kids have each heard that line thousands of time. And about the time I start to say “sad” they let go with a volley of whining and gripping. Since my kids are obviously smart, I applaud their efforts to figure out how the world works, and their attempts at controlling their environment.
I was speaking with a fellow single parent this evening. After the conversation I spent a lot of time pondering the reasons that I stay so calm with food discussions. Why I refuse to punish the children, but instead allow the slow lesson of empty tummies to do its work. My ex-husband, Lord bless the man’s soul, has painted me into a corner that makes righteous anger a tool I can rarely use.
My ex has always placed undue importance on children eating their meals. Threats, lecture and intimidation are his methods of imparting wisdom to the children. “Eat that food! Put that bite in your mouth, chew, now swallow! Do I have to get the belt?”
I’ve listened to these Drill Sergeant meals. I’ve watched the children choke on their food as they tried to avoid punishment.
My children have learned a lot of lessons from these meals. And the worst part is that some of these lessons they can actually articulate.
They have learned that Daddy’s love is conditional; if you eat all your food, then you can spend time with Daddy. Daddy doesn’t like kids he has to punish. If you make too many problems for Daddy, he won’t spend time with you. The kids have told me this; they’ve learned these lessons so well.
They’ve also learned some other lessons. They have learned that the amount of food in their stomach has a direct relationship with their father’s volume. They’ve learned that the speed at which they move the food into their mouth is also related to the speed at which their father will hit the table or throw something. Basically they have learned that they can control a grown-up. In a world where grown-ups are supposed to be in charge, that’s a scary thing, to find out that you, a small child can have such a dramatic effect on a person who is supposed to protect you, and guide you.
My kids have also learned, how much food is in their tummy is something Daddy has to worry about. Their own tummy isn’t their problem; it’s Daddy’s.
At my house the lesson is very different. No threats, no lectures, not intimidation. Sadness, sorrow, and Mom expresses very minimal concern that they are hungry because that’s really not Mom’s worry. At Mom’s house, their tummy is their own concern.
Of course, since my kids are smart, clever little people, ten minutes later, “Mommy, can I get a snack?”
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s so sad: I give snacks to kids who eat all their dinner. But I promise, we’ll have breakfast in the morning.”
My kids have each heard that line thousands of time. And about the time I start to say “sad” they let go with a volley of whining and gripping. Since my kids are obviously smart, I applaud their efforts to figure out how the world works, and their attempts at controlling their environment.
I was speaking with a fellow single parent this evening. After the conversation I spent a lot of time pondering the reasons that I stay so calm with food discussions. Why I refuse to punish the children, but instead allow the slow lesson of empty tummies to do its work. My ex-husband, Lord bless the man’s soul, has painted me into a corner that makes righteous anger a tool I can rarely use.
My ex has always placed undue importance on children eating their meals. Threats, lecture and intimidation are his methods of imparting wisdom to the children. “Eat that food! Put that bite in your mouth, chew, now swallow! Do I have to get the belt?”
I’ve listened to these Drill Sergeant meals. I’ve watched the children choke on their food as they tried to avoid punishment.
My children have learned a lot of lessons from these meals. And the worst part is that some of these lessons they can actually articulate.
They have learned that Daddy’s love is conditional; if you eat all your food, then you can spend time with Daddy. Daddy doesn’t like kids he has to punish. If you make too many problems for Daddy, he won’t spend time with you. The kids have told me this; they’ve learned these lessons so well.
They’ve also learned some other lessons. They have learned that the amount of food in their stomach has a direct relationship with their father’s volume. They’ve learned that the speed at which they move the food into their mouth is also related to the speed at which their father will hit the table or throw something. Basically they have learned that they can control a grown-up. In a world where grown-ups are supposed to be in charge, that’s a scary thing, to find out that you, a small child can have such a dramatic effect on a person who is supposed to protect you, and guide you.
My kids have also learned, how much food is in their tummy is something Daddy has to worry about. Their own tummy isn’t their problem; it’s Daddy’s.
At my house the lesson is very different. No threats, no lectures, not intimidation. Sadness, sorrow, and Mom expresses very minimal concern that they are hungry because that’s really not Mom’s worry. At Mom’s house, their tummy is their own concern.
Gradually they are learning that they have to think for themselves because the quality of their life depends on their own ability to think.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Bridge into Summer
Bridge into Summer
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central
My favorite thing to do on a Sunday- take the kids to the park and go for a walk. Bring my camera with me and take pictures as we go. It's a pleasant way to spend a Sunday, good family time, relaxing, away from the usual stress of our lives.
My daughter arrived home this morning from her father's house. I sat and snuggled with her on the couch, reconnected after three days apart.
As we set off thru the park, I got an inkling of how this was going to go. She saw a bird and began insisting that it was one thing. Her brother said, no that's not what I saw. And things went down hill from there.
Right after I took this picture she found some Beer Bottles. As I told her to go put them back, she went, looked me straight in the eye, and dropped them into the stream below. I marched her back to the car, and we left the park.
Why is it that the child has to test the boundaries every time she comes home? Why does she have to find out anew that yes, you do get in trouble for being disobedient, especially to a direct order like that!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Destroying the Fairy Tale Biological Father
Yesterday as we drove home from our counseling session it dawned on me that I needed to tell my son more stories of his biological father. He has heard the name, and is hurting, desperate for information, but doesn’t know how to express it.
As I started my car, with the kids in the back seat, I thought about it. He needs information. He needs good positive things because half of his genetic being comes from this man. If he hears terrible things about this man he’ll think half of me is terrible. But he also needs to know the truth. My son doesn’t need to think that somewhere out there is a wonderful man who would be his father. He doesn’t need fairy tale dreams of some magical biological father figure.
As we drove home, I told him about meeting his biological father. We met while Christmas Caroling with our singles group. He and I were the only two who could carry a tune. He tried to stay away from me because he came with another woman. I forgot all about him until I met him again 2 or 3 months later.
This morning, sitting on the couch in pj’s I told my son how I got pregnant with him. I told him that his biological father suggested I put him up for adoption. I heard him sniffle. I told him how his biological father attempted to disappear off the planet, and didn’t want anything to do with me once I was pregnant. I told him about how my father tracked him down, and how we took the case to court.
There was such a look of grief on his face. He worked hard to keep his face frozen, not betraying the depth of emotions running thru him. I held him and expressed my own sadness.
As I started my car, with the kids in the back seat, I thought about it. He needs information. He needs good positive things because half of his genetic being comes from this man. If he hears terrible things about this man he’ll think half of me is terrible. But he also needs to know the truth. My son doesn’t need to think that somewhere out there is a wonderful man who would be his father. He doesn’t need fairy tale dreams of some magical biological father figure.
As we drove home, I told him about meeting his biological father. We met while Christmas Caroling with our singles group. He and I were the only two who could carry a tune. He tried to stay away from me because he came with another woman. I forgot all about him until I met him again 2 or 3 months later.
This morning, sitting on the couch in pj’s I told my son how I got pregnant with him. I told him that his biological father suggested I put him up for adoption. I heard him sniffle. I told him how his biological father attempted to disappear off the planet, and didn’t want anything to do with me once I was pregnant. I told him about how my father tracked him down, and how we took the case to court.
There was such a look of grief on his face. He worked hard to keep his face frozen, not betraying the depth of emotions running thru him. I held him and expressed my own sadness.
Friday, August 8, 2008
The heads went rolling
The head started rolling around 11am. I recognized the signs this time. Someone missing from their desk, followed by a manager coming to pick up their purse. Lay off’s.
I have known for a while that the travel industry was going thru some shifts, and realignments. With business shifting to online bookings, and fuel costs sky rocketing, the need for “traditional agents” is falling. There will always be a need for a skilled person who can make the computer stand up and do what it’s supposed to do, but in today’s market about 70% of travel really can be booked online. As online tools improve that number will only increase.
Currently my position is not in danger. I am the one and only subject matter expert at what I do. What is in danger is where they decide to keep my position. Our account is spread over three cities, Dallas, Denver and Boise. I have noticed that the number of agents in Boise is growing larger. Cost of living in Boise is probably lower than both Denver and Dallas. I suspect the company can afford lower salaries in Boise and still get the same quality.
When lay-offs happened last month I began to get my resume up to date. I posted it online, and started making some inquires for help on polishing it. I realize I no longer have that luxury. Today I started applying for jobs.
Many of the jobs that have openings are looking for people to work evenings and weekends. What’s called After-hours services. Employers who have openings are already glutted with qualified applicants. Employers hold all the cards right now, and can ask an applicant to jump thru hoops just to get a job.
Next I need to get my other resumes cleaned up, and ready to work for me. I need to evaluate my skill set and see what other jobs I am qualified for. Despite my love for travel, I might need to do something else for a time to keep my family afloat.
I have known for a while that the travel industry was going thru some shifts, and realignments. With business shifting to online bookings, and fuel costs sky rocketing, the need for “traditional agents” is falling. There will always be a need for a skilled person who can make the computer stand up and do what it’s supposed to do, but in today’s market about 70% of travel really can be booked online. As online tools improve that number will only increase.
Currently my position is not in danger. I am the one and only subject matter expert at what I do. What is in danger is where they decide to keep my position. Our account is spread over three cities, Dallas, Denver and Boise. I have noticed that the number of agents in Boise is growing larger. Cost of living in Boise is probably lower than both Denver and Dallas. I suspect the company can afford lower salaries in Boise and still get the same quality.
When lay-offs happened last month I began to get my resume up to date. I posted it online, and started making some inquires for help on polishing it. I realize I no longer have that luxury. Today I started applying for jobs.
Many of the jobs that have openings are looking for people to work evenings and weekends. What’s called After-hours services. Employers who have openings are already glutted with qualified applicants. Employers hold all the cards right now, and can ask an applicant to jump thru hoops just to get a job.
Next I need to get my other resumes cleaned up, and ready to work for me. I need to evaluate my skill set and see what other jobs I am qualified for. Despite my love for travel, I might need to do something else for a time to keep my family afloat.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I'm learning
I sometimes wonder, am I going down the same path I’ve always gone down, making the same mistakes, or have I truly grown up and learned to make better choices.
Yes, I’m talking about men in my life. I wonder if I’ve truly chosen someone who is vastly different from my previously failed relationships. Something happened today that reassured me that yes, this is better, yes, I’ve made a wiser decision.
This morning we were chatting, as we do most mornings. He told me of some youthful indiscretions. This isn’t his blog, so what he did, I’ll leave up to your imagination. Needless to say, it was stupid stuff, like the time I lied to my mother and said I went to class. (Note to self, when you go to college with your mother, and have lunch each day with your mother, don’t lie about going to class; a classmate will always find you and ask where you were!)
He told some hilarious stories, and we laughed. And then I had to get busy, and so did he. Later, I thought, I hope he knows that’s stupid and not behavior to be repeated. I e-mailed asking that question.
A little background for my fair reader who has never met my ex-husband. Simply asking a question like that would have been a chance for my ex to tear into me. He would have justified the past actions, explained why they were important, and since they were so important, maybe why they should be done today. He would have berated me for questioning, and implying that I knew better than him. Basically, questioning him would have been the opening gambit to me getting yelled at.
Anyway, the boyfriend responded telling me that I worry too much. Not an overly comforting answer. And then says, maybe I just shouldn’t tell you stuff like this because you get upset by it.
Okay, flip out moment there. WHAT? Excuse me, I thought this was about trust? Fortunately I kept my cool and put together a very succinct little answer. If you expect me to trust you, you need to be willing to hear the questions I ask. How can I trust you with the dreams, desires, and goals of my life if you won’t let me ask you questions?
In the back of my mind, I heard my ex really tearing into me. I heard him ripping me apart. I heard my heart scream out in pain as I was ignored, brushed aside, and made to feel little because I had questioned him. I heard myself beat down, told to shut up, and made to feel ashamed, made to feel disloyal.
His response: “Fair Enough.”
Oh my word. My heart could have sung. He realized I had a point, he listened to me, and he accepted it. You could have plucked me off the ceiling right then. I suddenly felt such joy and elation over two small words.
I have learned. I am making better decisions.
Yes, I’m talking about men in my life. I wonder if I’ve truly chosen someone who is vastly different from my previously failed relationships. Something happened today that reassured me that yes, this is better, yes, I’ve made a wiser decision.
This morning we were chatting, as we do most mornings. He told me of some youthful indiscretions. This isn’t his blog, so what he did, I’ll leave up to your imagination. Needless to say, it was stupid stuff, like the time I lied to my mother and said I went to class. (Note to self, when you go to college with your mother, and have lunch each day with your mother, don’t lie about going to class; a classmate will always find you and ask where you were!)
He told some hilarious stories, and we laughed. And then I had to get busy, and so did he. Later, I thought, I hope he knows that’s stupid and not behavior to be repeated. I e-mailed asking that question.
A little background for my fair reader who has never met my ex-husband. Simply asking a question like that would have been a chance for my ex to tear into me. He would have justified the past actions, explained why they were important, and since they were so important, maybe why they should be done today. He would have berated me for questioning, and implying that I knew better than him. Basically, questioning him would have been the opening gambit to me getting yelled at.
Anyway, the boyfriend responded telling me that I worry too much. Not an overly comforting answer. And then says, maybe I just shouldn’t tell you stuff like this because you get upset by it.
Okay, flip out moment there. WHAT? Excuse me, I thought this was about trust? Fortunately I kept my cool and put together a very succinct little answer. If you expect me to trust you, you need to be willing to hear the questions I ask. How can I trust you with the dreams, desires, and goals of my life if you won’t let me ask you questions?
In the back of my mind, I heard my ex really tearing into me. I heard him ripping me apart. I heard my heart scream out in pain as I was ignored, brushed aside, and made to feel little because I had questioned him. I heard myself beat down, told to shut up, and made to feel ashamed, made to feel disloyal.
His response: “Fair Enough.”
Oh my word. My heart could have sung. He realized I had a point, he listened to me, and he accepted it. You could have plucked me off the ceiling right then. I suddenly felt such joy and elation over two small words.
I have learned. I am making better decisions.
Monday, August 4, 2008
New Boundaries
Somewhere I remember reading that Single friends and dating friends have a basic conflict. Though the goal of most singles is to get into a dating relationship, their behavior often tears at those who are dating.
On Saturday I found out exactly how true that is. Saturday a girlfriend, a fellow single mother and I decided to get together. First we were going to go to her place, and things changed last minute, and we went to my place. Four kids, two Mom’s, we cooked dinner and then went swimming. We were cooking and my girlfriend got a call, a guy that’s new to the area. He attends my ward, so I’ve wanted to reach out, and befriend him, just never had the chance. My girlfriend asked, can we invite him over? Great I thought! A chance to meet this guy, and get to know him.
So, we have two girlfriends, and one guy.
I can’t explain it, but it was wrong. The group was too small and intimate. I felt too exposed. I’m not single. I’m in a relationship that means a lot to me. They were behaving like regular singles, which they are, and expecting me to do the same. I’m not. And I couldn’t tell you exactly what behaviors it was.
Meanwhile our FHE group has fallen apart, with the host moving to San Antonio. For a while we had talked about having it at my place. I now realize, as a single woman, I really don’t want to go opening my private space up to a bunch of people I don’t know well. Especially since I’m dating. It feels so totally wrong to have other people that close to me.
This relationship is new. And the boundaries that define it still need to be rigorously enforced.
On Saturday I found out exactly how true that is. Saturday a girlfriend, a fellow single mother and I decided to get together. First we were going to go to her place, and things changed last minute, and we went to my place. Four kids, two Mom’s, we cooked dinner and then went swimming. We were cooking and my girlfriend got a call, a guy that’s new to the area. He attends my ward, so I’ve wanted to reach out, and befriend him, just never had the chance. My girlfriend asked, can we invite him over? Great I thought! A chance to meet this guy, and get to know him.
So, we have two girlfriends, and one guy.
I can’t explain it, but it was wrong. The group was too small and intimate. I felt too exposed. I’m not single. I’m in a relationship that means a lot to me. They were behaving like regular singles, which they are, and expecting me to do the same. I’m not. And I couldn’t tell you exactly what behaviors it was.
Meanwhile our FHE group has fallen apart, with the host moving to San Antonio. For a while we had talked about having it at my place. I now realize, as a single woman, I really don’t want to go opening my private space up to a bunch of people I don’t know well. Especially since I’m dating. It feels so totally wrong to have other people that close to me.
This relationship is new. And the boundaries that define it still need to be rigorously enforced.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Little scratch on the heart
“I’ve told my kids, point blank, that when I marry, I marry a husband, not to get them a Daddy.” This is a standing conversation between my children and I. They’ve got a Daddy, and any possible future husband of Mommy’s is not going to be their Daddy. Nope, I’m not marrying a Daddy. Not marrying for the sake of my kids.
I could hear my boyfriend nodding to himself. I went on to explain the conversations with my kids, explaining that their Daddy was their Daddy, and would never be replaced. I can’t go get them another Daddy. Can’t go to the store and pick out the next model, can’t go online to the Daddys’R’Us website. They’ve got a Daddy, and that’s all they get. Not replaceable. Best they’ll get is people who will help set good role models for them. My son has a man at Church who takes him out about once a month for “boy time.” The best they can hope for is people like that who will do things with them, and show them how a man should behave.
“I’m only Daddy to my daughter,” my boyfriend explained. He told me a story about a former girlfriend who put her daughter on the phone. The eight-year-old child asked in a plaintive voice, why don’t you want to be my Daddy? His response was to ask for the mother back. You can’t date, and make a meaningful relationship with those sorts of obligations. No, dating is about two people, and how you get along.
In spite of the fact that I know psychologically, that I’ve prepared myself, and my children with the most secure foundation, I still had a fantasy in the back of my mind. And last night it got destroyed. I know what he said is actually what’s healthiest. It will give the strongest foundation, and allow a very healthy relationship to be built between the two of us.
But still, in the back of my mind . . . I heard the voice of an older woman I know. Her children were raised mostly by her second husband. She told me, her second husband said, Look, I married you, and the kids are a package deal; they’re my kids now! I had a fantasy that we would each take responsibility for each other’s children.
Truth be told, I don’t want to take responsibility for his daughter. I did that in my previous marriage, to the detriment of our relationship. My boyfriend's daughter is a two-year-old handful, like any normal two year old! My daughter is enough of a handful for me. At least with my own daughter I know her history. I’ve seen where all her neurosis came from. I have legitimate authority with this child, and can tell her what to do. His daughter?!? NO! His daughter is his job to handle. I really don’t want to have to lay down the line with that kid. She has a mother, and a father, who can keep her in line. Why should I have to take on that job? Nope, don’t want it, thank you very much!
So, today I’m dealing with a little scratch on my heart. The final loss of a fantasy that really wasn’t healthy in the first place. A fantasy that I’m trying to get my kids to let go of, too.
I could hear my boyfriend nodding to himself. I went on to explain the conversations with my kids, explaining that their Daddy was their Daddy, and would never be replaced. I can’t go get them another Daddy. Can’t go to the store and pick out the next model, can’t go online to the Daddys’R’Us website. They’ve got a Daddy, and that’s all they get. Not replaceable. Best they’ll get is people who will help set good role models for them. My son has a man at Church who takes him out about once a month for “boy time.” The best they can hope for is people like that who will do things with them, and show them how a man should behave.
“I’m only Daddy to my daughter,” my boyfriend explained. He told me a story about a former girlfriend who put her daughter on the phone. The eight-year-old child asked in a plaintive voice, why don’t you want to be my Daddy? His response was to ask for the mother back. You can’t date, and make a meaningful relationship with those sorts of obligations. No, dating is about two people, and how you get along.
In spite of the fact that I know psychologically, that I’ve prepared myself, and my children with the most secure foundation, I still had a fantasy in the back of my mind. And last night it got destroyed. I know what he said is actually what’s healthiest. It will give the strongest foundation, and allow a very healthy relationship to be built between the two of us.
But still, in the back of my mind . . . I heard the voice of an older woman I know. Her children were raised mostly by her second husband. She told me, her second husband said, Look, I married you, and the kids are a package deal; they’re my kids now! I had a fantasy that we would each take responsibility for each other’s children.
Truth be told, I don’t want to take responsibility for his daughter. I did that in my previous marriage, to the detriment of our relationship. My boyfriend's daughter is a two-year-old handful, like any normal two year old! My daughter is enough of a handful for me. At least with my own daughter I know her history. I’ve seen where all her neurosis came from. I have legitimate authority with this child, and can tell her what to do. His daughter?!? NO! His daughter is his job to handle. I really don’t want to have to lay down the line with that kid. She has a mother, and a father, who can keep her in line. Why should I have to take on that job? Nope, don’t want it, thank you very much!
So, today I’m dealing with a little scratch on my heart. The final loss of a fantasy that really wasn’t healthy in the first place. A fantasy that I’m trying to get my kids to let go of, too.
Mother's Wisdom
I hate it when I go and prove my mother right. And she's going to read this and tease me about it.
Back in March she came out to spend three weeks with us. My kids were struggling, and I was too. For three weeks she helped the kids stablize, and helped me get a few things going. It was a wonderful bandaid that helped us get thru to some more peace.
But she told me, I haven't been playing with the kids, I've been making them work! She cleaned house with the kids, and they had a blast! Imagine that, spending the day scrubbing kitchen counters, and thinking it just the most awesome thing.
Okay you get the idea where this is going. A fellow single mother is coming over this evening with her two kids. Twins as a matter of fact, right in between my two. The house is decent, but the kids bedroom, and bathroom . . . well, they look like a bomb went off in there.
I sent one kid into the bathroom, and one into the bedroom. Each had orders to pick up five things. And then they switched places. In about half an hour, both were semi-picked up. There are still toys on the floor of the bedroom, but it's ten times better.
Most surprising was during a break section my daughter came and asked me, Mom, can I go finish swiffering the bathroom.
For a few minutes I didn't have any arguments from the kids. They weren't getting on each other's nerves.
Back in March she came out to spend three weeks with us. My kids were struggling, and I was too. For three weeks she helped the kids stablize, and helped me get a few things going. It was a wonderful bandaid that helped us get thru to some more peace.
But she told me, I haven't been playing with the kids, I've been making them work! She cleaned house with the kids, and they had a blast! Imagine that, spending the day scrubbing kitchen counters, and thinking it just the most awesome thing.
Okay you get the idea where this is going. A fellow single mother is coming over this evening with her two kids. Twins as a matter of fact, right in between my two. The house is decent, but the kids bedroom, and bathroom . . . well, they look like a bomb went off in there.
I sent one kid into the bathroom, and one into the bedroom. Each had orders to pick up five things. And then they switched places. In about half an hour, both were semi-picked up. There are still toys on the floor of the bedroom, but it's ten times better.
Most surprising was during a break section my daughter came and asked me, Mom, can I go finish swiffering the bathroom.
For a few minutes I didn't have any arguments from the kids. They weren't getting on each other's nerves.
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