Father

I mention my mom a lot. Both here, and in real life. My mom is an amazing, powerful, genuine, generous person. I love her. She saved my life. She's a wonderful grandmother to my Gumball. Really wonderful. Like most people, she occasionally hurts my feelings, and annoys me. I also wish she was the sort of grandmother who'd willingly watch Gumball for a full day, or a night, maybe every couple of months. That's just not her. Oh well. She's always here when I need her.

My mom isn't perfect. When my parents divorced, when I was a child, she lost custody of me. She allowed my father to take me out of the country to live. I went many years with very infrequent visits to my mom. I missed her in a horrible, constant way, but I was too afraid of my father to even ask to see more of her. I wasn't entirely miserable all the time I lived with my dad, but I was lonely and scared a lot. I had a life that seemed idyllic. Who wouldn't want to grow up in the Caribbean? Who wouldn't want to spend their days SCUBA diving, living in a tropical paradise, surrounded by Vervet monkeys, mangoes, and beaches? I had friends, and experiences that many people just dream about. I traveled throughout the Caribbean. But in my heart, I was one scared, lonely, sad, little kid. No one has ever been happier to go off to boarding school for high school. I left home when I was 14 and never went back.

Back to my mom. This is why I think she's the best person I've ever met. She has admitted, acknowledged, and apologized for every mistake she made, for letting me leave the country, for losing custody, for everything. Everyone makes mistakes. Even serious ones. It takes a strong, honest person to own up to those mistakes, and to offer restitution. I hope I can be a person like my mom.

Except for one brief, uncomfortable, unplanned encounter in Barnes and Noble in 2010, I haven't spoken to my father since 2000.

My father wasn't nice to me. When I think about him, and how he treated me, I pathologize and try to diagnose him. Something is wrong with him. Bipolar? Drug addict? Narcissistic Personality Disorder? Schizophrenic? Fucking insane? Yes. The last label always fits. He took a lot of my childhood, and ruined it. So many of my memories of childhood involve tears and screaming. Maybe someday I'll elaborate on the hell he put me through. Mostly though, it makes me too sad to share.

I got married in 2000. To a man who is, to this day, a close friend. He gave me strength, and when my father started one of his regular tirades about my flaws, faults, and general failings (real and imagined), I told him that I refused to be spoken to like this anymore. The end.

When I got pregnant, I knew my mom would play a huge role in my baby girl's life. I wondered if I was making a mistake by not patching things up with my father. I worried and fretted about it. Forgiveness is touted as the strongest, most soul-soothing action one can take. And when Gumball's dad left, I was so desperate for help that I considered calling my father. He would have helped me. For whatever his "help" is worth. I don't think he's an evil person, just deeply rotten, and sick. It was clear to me that I would never be able to leave my darling Gumball with my father. I could never knowingly put her at risk. The price for his help was too much for me.

The balm of forgiveness is not for me.

Will my inability to forgive keep me out of heaven? I try to eliminate bitterness and lies from my heart, but I won't sacrifice my daughter to achieve some sort of cosmic state of zen. Fuck that. I'm a mom now, and I can bear any burden. Cosmic peace is not for me, but I will do everything in my power to keep my Gumball safe, and happy.

Gumball's Update

Nearly two and a half years old is a magical age. If I ignore the miserable sleeping, night wakings, and refusal to nap, that is. When not strung out from being over-tired, my little Gumball is such a delight. She talks, has opinions, makes jokes, and vigorously loves our poor cat, Pumpkin, thoroughly.

She occasionally wants me to call her "Betsey" after a girl in one of her Curious George books.

She pairs all toys and animals up into "mama and baby" sets. Including, but not limited to: mama and baby rocks, mama and baby pieces of string cheese, and mama and baby Curious George stuffed animals.

The other day, when she was eating toast, she held her bitten piece up to me, and said, "Look, Mama. A dog." And the bitten piece of toast actually looked exactly like a dog.

She has started coloring deliberately- eyes are one color, flowers are one color, and there are lots of circles. Recently she colored in many circles in different colors, and told me that they were "people's eyes."

Any doll with fake hair goes immediately into time out: in the sink, in one of her shoes, or on the other side of the gate. She shrieks when she sees that I've returned them to her toy bins, and giddily returns them to their time out locations.

Everything she says has a strong Boston accent.

Her favorite song of the moment is "Little Drummer Boy." Which she calls "So to Honor Him." I am hoping, fervently, that we aren't continuing to sing Christmas carols into the spring.

She thinks every box is a "pendent" (present) for her.

She still pronounces her own name as "Yaya."

She is starting to get good at hugging with her arms and kissing with her lips. As opposed to air kissing and air hugging. All while saying "huuuuuuuggggg" and "kiss."

My kid is awesome, and I can't imagine loving anyone more than I love her. 

Resolved

Well, I may be up to 25% asshole, but today, I'm ok with that. I'll work on it, but at least I'm not jealous or crying. I really want to be a better person, and will continue to try to be that.

One good thing- yesterday I made some incredible pulled pork in my slow cooker. I used this recipe. Effing amazing. Really, really delicious. I also made my mom's coleslaw. Here's how I make that:

For 1/2 a head of cabbage, I used (amounts all guesses)
- 3/4 cup sour cream
- 1/2 mayo
- black peper
- raw garlic, minced finely
- tabasco
- salt


It is better the second day, and lasts really well.

One event I haven't known how to write about yet, is that I got into a parenting disagreement with someone I recently met. I won't go into too many details about that, to be respectful to all parties involved, but to summarize, I made some unfavorable observations about my new acquaintance's disciplining techniques. Or, her lack thereof. In a nutshell, her adorable kid was attacking and hurting other kids, including Gumball and her friends. I was feeling guilty every time he hurt her, feeling like I should have been able to protect her better. She is so sensitive that she cries if I say "no" too harshly, so I really have no idea about disciplining toddlers. Anyhow, in my typical subtle and delicate way (HA! Hahahahahaha! HA!) I addressed the problem, and at the same time managed to offend this new acquaintance to the point where she no longer wants to be friends with me. Kind of uncomfortable, and awkward, and in retrospect, I wish I had handled it differently. Although I am honestly unsure how I could have handled it differently. I weighed Gumball being hurt, and certain friends of hers not wanting to continue to attend group get-togethers, with the chance I might hurt and offend. Parenting is hard, man!

I am, however, proud that I spoke up.

This experience may be evidence of my 25%. Or of the opposing 75%. Who knows?

Disclaimers

I want to say that writing this does mean that I think I know anything. On the contrary, it probably reveals my deepest weaknesses and inaccuracies. I accept that. The older I get, the less I know. I forgot the rules of capitalization a few years ago. I can't always remember when to use affect and effect. I usually try to avoid having to use either. I thought I knew a little about relationships. Not so. I know nothing about relationships. When the person you truly believe is your soulmate abandons you and the 4 week old daughter you so lovingly created, it really does something to the strength of your beliefs. I'm not sure what I believe in these days. I have hunches and sometimes I suspect things, but the certainty is gone. That's all I'm saying.


I know a tiny bit about adult nutrition. No, really, I do. I don't know much about baby nutrition, but I do want to share what little I have done. But again, a disclaimer. Since day 1 of solid foods, I've been making Gumball's food. Until about 3 weeks ago, she seemed to love it. Or, well, tolerate it. Then, all of a sudden any texture at all would make the baby gag, and vomit. As my friend D would say, there would be a failure to upload. Fucking hilarious. Anyhow, barfing up dinner means that Ratbaby doesn't sleep well. Ratbaby not sleeping well equals mama not sleeping well. So, yeah. Now she gets homemade, organic, gourmet baby food for breakfast and lunch. And jarred Earth's Best for dinner. It is what it is. I'm not thrilled, but I value the little rest I get. I assume I'll have a lifetime of cooking for the little grub.

Finally, yes, Easter was lovely. It was not without humor though. The baby got an interesting gift from her Nana. A friend commented that it was "every girl's Easter wish." Indeed.

A toddler-sized metal rat. With eye-skewering whiskers. Happy Easter!