Children
Guess this will be a bit of an old man post. I don't get 'round here very often. Prolly should try to. I have three of them. Children, that is. I also have two that are almost and practically step-children. I've been accused in the past of caring more for my step's than for my own. That hurt. A lot. Especially from the one that seems to be the most lost of all five.
My youngest is the one I worry about the most. That may surprise some who know me because my oldest is the one that needs the most help. But my little one is such a spirit that needs freedom and expression, and here I sit over 2000 miles away unable to empower her. The closest I can come is to feed her need for technology. Don't get me wrong, there is a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that she is so excited about it. I would so love to have delivered the new toy myself, but my work schedule got stupid and the timing would have been too far off. Have I told you lately, Snarfy, how proud I am of you? How knowing that you work so hard to be you and to accomplish what everyone around you expects of you makes me swell with pride? Well, if not, then there it is. My baby is growing up without my help and doing a damn fine job of it.
My middle one does a good job of making her old man proud, too. Two incidents of asking the old man for help this year. Yes, I'm glad to do it. I know the first was for a really good cause. Too bad the company that hired her was such a mess! She did real good at that one. Then the second job couldn't keep up with her unique blend of sales talent and charm. They had more work from her than they could keep up with! That's a hoot! Of course, that meant that rather than ramping up capacity, they let her go. "Bastards." Oh well, she got into another job, more quickly than I could, and seems to be enjoying it. Oh, except for the radioactive waste spill two days ago! Holy crap! As usual though, she weathers it with a sense of humor and continues to make the best of the situation. Yep, Panda Bear, one proud old fat guy papa in Rhode Island here.
My oldest is another question. Weezer has been, for the past six or seven years, the inspiration for a soap opera style novella. You wonder just what that means? Well, I decided, after moving to Rhode Island and telling the story so many times, to write it down. I have it in a Word file that has grown from its original four pages to somewhere around nine now. I think. Sometimes it gives me a headache trying to keep it up to date. I don't hear from this one any more unless she wants money. Lately, she has taken to ONLY calling my cell phone. Understand, my cell doesn't work at home. It's off from the time I get home from work until I leave in the morning. Sometimes I don't leave. (I have the ability to completely accomplish my job at home.) A week ago I was in Germany. For some reason, my T-Mobile cell phone would not work in the home country of T-Mobile! But there were the messages when I got to Boston's Logan Airport last Saturday night. Here's where the soap opera comes in. She didn't call the house. I don't answer my cell and she doesn't try the other number. Ok, so maybe she doesn't want to talk to girlfriend. So call during the day and leave a message! Doesn't matter. I couldn't have done anything from Germany anyway. Not to mention that her entire remaining family has gotten pretty well burned out on sending her money that seems to get nowhere. Yes, it's a long and involved story of intrigue and deceit, rage and pity.
Her (my girlfriend) oldest is 17, female, ADHD and completely addicted to Anime. She also has psoriasis to the point of distraction. It's been worse, but then it's also been better. They go to their father's house in Wisconsin for the summer. When they get back, it takes a couple months to get them back on track. It's only been three weeks. The adjustment period continues. She can be so insightful and wise one minute, and the next is the epitome of blonde. She's a full brunette. I don't get it. Here you might be thinking, "But you should get it, you've got three daughters!" Except for that one all important detail. I missed out on this portion of my girls' lives because I left. There are times when that is the most painful thing I can say. Right now, this is one of them. I miss my girls something awful. I hate having not been there for them. I'm trying hard to be the firm guiding hand for BuyoBuyo (her chosen nickname) and it's tough. I often hold her to the same expectations that I hold my own girls to. Her background is SO not the same. Her childhood household was so very different. Abusive drunk for a father. Hiding protective mother. Building her confidence and nurturing her self-control are a lot tougher than I expected. Sometimes I question whether my "evil black-hearted bastard" routine is the right one. I look at my three and think, "Well, two out of three turned out right. Maybe it's not so bad."
Then there's her son. BubbaMaru is a handful. An eleven year old ADHD with eczema that makes his skin feel like a desert. He's also an emotional wreck. He comes back from his father like a whipped dog. I guess their step-brother is an absolute terror. And dear old "dad" won't even stick up for his own kids. Yeah, that guy gets his own chapter in the soap opera book. This one is so damaged, I have to be extra careful playing with him. He's a fragile child. He's easily hurt, both physically and emotionally. Once he's set off, it takes an hour to get him back on an even keel. These are my challenges.
I spoke with Panda Bear tonight. Seems Weezer and her "boyfriend" have flown to the San Diego area. I could hear the tension in Panda's voice when she talked about it. Snarfy knows. Here's the kicker. I'm leaving for California on Sunday. My plan was to pick up Snarfy, head south and spend an evening visiting with both my girls. Now, Weezer is there. I told Panda that I have mixed feelings about seeing her. I expect her to lash out at me. I also expect to want to cause serious bodily harm to her "boyfriend." If Weezer says she wants to see me, I'm going to tell him to take a walk. If he doesn't, I'll tell him I'm calling the police. If he asks why, I'll tell him, "I'm going to lie. They will believe me. Get out." There's obviously more to the story that I haven't entered here. Take my word, he deserves it. If she doesn't lash out after I toss his ass out, I will be surprised. Of course, I may not have to worry about this little scenario. She probably doesn't want to see me anyway. The rest of my plan was to spend my Monday and Tuesday evening with Snarfy. That part stays in place. She's near Los Angeles where I'll be working. Then I'm off to Sacramento on Wednesday. I return home on Saturday. I think I'll take a day or two off for full recuperation after that.
So many more thoughts running through my head at the moment. Exhaustion is fighting for top honors. I think it wins. Tomorrow is my hunny's sign language class. BuyoBuyo has a doctor appointment, I need to see the vampires, and replace my suitcase (three weeks old and destroyed on the way back from Germany). That should take most of the morning, then I'll have to pack for my pre-dawn trip to the airport. I think I just might sleep on the planes this time.
Weezer, Panda Bear, Snarfy, BuyoBuyo, BubbaMaru: I love you all. Bio and step, it doesn't matter, you're my kids. I know my pet will get around to reading this eventually. I love you, hunny.