“But dad, I don’t want that kind of putter. I know what I want and I’m paying for it with my own money. I’ve researched this putter on the internet. Dad, I know what I want.” Continue reading →
Posts Tagged: Parenting
There is a wall of glass separating the narcissist from everyone else. This isn’t the kind of glass found in the famous proverb about people in glass houses. You can’t throw a stone and break this glass. This is impenetrable, thick, cold glass. Continue reading →
Guest Post by Zaira
“And that’s why I hate my dad…” is what I heard after I explained what happened in mediation yesterday.
I can’t hide it.
I can’t shield him from the sour truth of his dad’s greed, ruthlessness, and revenge.
There will be items obviously missing from the home. I can explain why I agreed to give him these things that disrupt our space. I can look to the sweetness and say we can save for new things and bit by bit have our own way. But, I can’t explain WHY his dad is the way he is. I can talk about NPD. I can talk about his childhood and how it contributed to this disorder. But I can’t explain WHY he doesn’t get it.
WHY does he need our things when he has his own?
“He has three wine racks, why does he need one more?”
WHY doesn’t he see that the stuff he gains will ruin him in the eyes of his son.
“And that’s why I hate my dad…”
We looked at each other and without words understood the struggle.
We have to accept that we are the sweet and he is the sour.
Over chocolate milk, Rice Krispies and coffee we had a venting session about yesterday’s dad visit. It used to be that our rants were punctuated with tears and “How long do we have to do these visits?” Now the rants are filled with laughs, OMGs, “Can you believe hims?” and “How long do we have to do these visits?” Continue reading →
before they get to do all the fun stuff?” - R L LaFevers, Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos
“One of you grab the iPad and look up stele. Check out the images.” Continue reading →
I see how you wince when I come running out of my bedroom with my braids flying, wearing socks that don’t match. I’m not being lazy, you know, I like my socks this way. Continue reading →
Guest Post by Zaira
“Mom, how old do I have to be again before I don’t have to visit dad anymore? I have already made my decision that I want to live with you.”
“You do live with me, honey.”
“I know, but I mean all the time. Every spring break and winter holiday and summer vacation.”
“But then you won’t see your dad.”
“Yes, but we have the memories…”
It doesn’t matter how much I reinforce that it is important to have a relationship with his dad. Nor does it matter that he doesn’t complain too much out loud. These conversations reinforce what I already know.
He is struggling inside.
Oh, how I know about that!
I know what it’s like when it’s all confused and churning inside, but on the outside it doesn’t appear that anything is wrong. To think that I have to wait a couple more years before he has a voice for himself makes my insides knotty.
I wonder to myself, why wait? But I know the system. I know it has to come at a time when it is right and unfortunately, something has to happen on the outside for them to listen. You can’t use history because they believe it will be different this time and as long as the stage lights are on, it may be.
But inside it won’t be.
He shut off the blender and yelled from the kitchen, “Mom, do you think it’d work to put some of those leftover brownie crumbs in my milkshake?” Continue reading →
Last night, no amount of bathroom humor would tease her out of her funk. She plotted a daughter’s revenge – cryptic drawings on paper that would then be tossed in the wood stove.
I asked if she wanted to have a slumber party in my bed. “I’ll tickle your back. You can tell me anything or nothing at all.”
She brushed her teeth. I braided her hair. She pushed the cat aside and crawled in my bed and said, “I’m sick of all of this.”
Today she discovered how to make different sizes of paper frogs. She colored them brightly and called them Baby and Mommy and one of them was even Dad. Right now she’s beating her brother at a dice game, and when a favorite song comes on Pandora, she dances by me twirling and whirling and smiling and not thinking about anything but good stuff.
That is the resiliency of kids.
That is the roller coaster of life.