It’s Time To Read

Shame on my Rockstar and his Daughter’s Mother, for now this is the conversation I get to endure EVERY TIME we attempt to sit down and read with his Daughter:

Me: OK! Let’s pick a book! How ’bout Dr. Seuss?

Her: *giving me the look of death*  NO! I’m NOT reading!

Me: Well, I guess you want to waste all day arguing about it then. You know you have to read for half an hour every day.

Her: I don’t WANNA! I wanna play!

Me: Well, you can go play after this book. Come on, we’ll do every other page. You read one, then I’ll read one.

Her: FINE. But I’m NOT reading for a half hour.

Me: Whatever.

Her: (after closely inspecting whatever book to see how many pages there are) This book is LONG! I’m NOT reading the whole thing!

Me: *maintaining patience. Barely* Just reading. You know, you’d have 5 pages read already if you’d just do it.

Her: (after rolling aroung, crinkling pages, sighing, and finally settling on leaning against me) gjpsodg ue fseegfhaosd

Me: WHAT? If you can’t read it so I can understand you, I’m going to make you read it again.

Her: (noticing the next page is shorter) You read this page, and I’ll read the next page.

Me: *deep breath* If you don’t start reading, I’m going to make you read the WHOLE thing. Read.

After a few pages…

Her: (rubbing eyes and wriggling around irritatingly) I’m not going to read anymore.

Me: Well, I guess we’re going to sit here in silence then. You know you could be playing right now.

Her: Mom doesn’t make me read!

Me: And that’s why you’re failing all your classes. Read.

Her: (after reading one word, she sits in silence, waiting for me to read the next word) I don’t know that word.

Me: Sound it out.

Her: I don’t KNOW it!

Me: Make a sound then. If you make a sound, I’ll help you.

After extensive prodding, we do finally get to the end of the book. And believe me, I am as relieved as she. It’s a good thing I dye my hair, because THIS every weekend will surely turn me grey.

The Cruelty of Children

They say that children are cruel. I know this is true because I was one of the cruel ones. At least a little bit. I was picked on more than I ever picked on anyone, I’m assuming because I was 5’3″ and 130 lbs by the time I was 10, but I did have my moments of wretchedness. You would think since I am now grown, and haven’t children of my own, I would be insusceptible to the bullying that I was subject to. Not so. I have vowed to tell mostly the truth in this blog. So here goes…

My Rockstar has a 9 yr old daughter. That in itself is not the issue, though I believe a 9 yr old son would have been easier to deal with. When we began dating, my Rockstar  was a bit dubious when I declared my position as a potentially awesome step-mother-like figure. Perhaps it was because I have next to no experience with children, or perhaps he was aware of the Daughter’s and my dispositions and need for attention. Who knows. Let’s just say he may have been right.

While the Daughter is quite affectionate, (which I love) at times she can resemble Regan from The Excorcist. (during the really scary part.) Mainly these incidents originate when she is told to do something she doesn’t want to do; I understand for the first 7 years she was babied and not really disciplined, but COME ON. I am going to use a phrase I never thought I would- when I was a kid. When I was a kid, if I acted that way I woulda gotten my ass beat. I do not in any way condone corporal punishment, but I DO believe the FEAR of an ass-beating should be instilled into cerebrum.

The episode that prompted me to compose this post has happened more than once. Last night, everything was misleadingly copascetic. We ate dinner, they played tennis (I detest running) and I read a “bednight” story to the Daughter. Then it was actually time for sleep. I have largely given up trying to actually get that kid to stay in bed after I’ve tucked her in. I just go to bed, since she doesn’t feel compelled to listen to me. I was engrossed in reading my bio of Dolly Parton (Yay Dolly!) when the Daughter comes into our bedroom

The Daughter: “I’m sleeping in here.”

My response is to remind her that she doesn’t listen very well.

Me: “You better get in bed, since daddy has already told you 3 times.”

The Daughter: “You know, I am the Queen and I live here. You are just staying here for a little while. Maybe YOU should go to bed.”

I admit. If it was a kid I didn’t know, I would probably be laughing too. However. Having a 9 yr old tell me my living situation( and my relationship) is on probation irked the hell outta me. (It also made it impossible to sleep.)

My question is, I realize this is something that my Rockstar needs to address with his Daughter. Or with me. If I am to be a built-in part of their lives, she needs to get it through her head. If I AM on probation, then I would much rather just be told to get the fuck out now. How am I supposed to instill respect into a 9 yr old who doesn’t even understand the concept? And yes, I am 29, but it still hurts my feelings to be bullied. I don’t like it when events in my life make me want to say, “Fuck this shit.”

Children are our future??

Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, all my dear bloggers! Imagine my surprise this morning when I checked my stats and saw that I had 14 views yesterday! I love you all! At least I’m not just talking to myself anymore. (Which I really don’t mind doing…) So. Today I shall delve into a subject that is very sensitive for me. It is something I think about every day but cannot talk about without tearing up. The subject of children.

Ever since I was very young, I told everybody I wanted to have 5 boys. Now, don’t ask, “Why boys?” because I’m not entirely sure myself. It seems odd since I love pink, and dressing up, and anything sparkly. Perhaps it is the idea of having my grown sons towering over my short self, (I’m 5’3″) being the Momma’s Boys I know they would be. Anyway, it did seem I was in the perfect situation when I married a man who was fine with having that many kids. Alas, it was not to be. I was with the man for 12 years, never using condoms or birth control, and came out the other side without even a miscarriage- all while everyone I know was popping out kids left and right. Perhaps it was me, maybe it was him, I guess I will never know for sure because we are now divorced and I have never been able to afford health insurance to go through the bullshit of fertility testing. If I am to be barren, I would rather NOT know for sure anyway, I think. I would guess that it IS me, though, since I have since had irresponsible unprotected sex with men who have fathered children.

Nearly everyone I know has said to me at one time or another that I would make an excellent mother. Now, I’m slightly perplexed about how they would know this, as I never baby-sat as a teenager, commented people on how lovely their children are, or even held my cousin’s babies without handing them back almost immediately. Nevertheless, I whole-heartedly agree with these Everyone. I would make a great mom. I know that Love is what a child needs, not toys; I know that discipline is a must, and not the belt on the ass kind; and I know that they need to be taught Respect. I would read to them every night, and tell them I love them always.

9 years ago, my best friend came to me and said, “The worst thing that could ever happen has happened.” She was pregnant. Now I have never been pregnant, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that if you have that kind of attitude when you find out you are having a child, it’s going to filter on down into your parenting a bit. Granted, and unexpected pregnancy is not usually the first thing every 21 year old wants, but you know, sometimes you have to go with the flow. Abortion for her (or me) was never an option, as we were raised very strictly Baptist, and all Life is sacred. I told her once that if she didn’t want to keep her baby, I would  adopt him. She ended up keeping him, and he’s turned out to be a pretty great kid, though it’s helped that he has had a bounty of familial support.  It seems to me the people who aren’t looking to have kids are the very ones who end up with them, and those couples that are trying so desperately have none. Is that God’s way of  showing who’s in charge, I wonder?

My boyfriend is a prime example. His child is a product of a Fuck-Buddy/ relationship that went awry. In his words: “She trapped me.” Fortuneately, he stepped up and refused to be a Bum father, ‘cuz he’s a Good Guy. Alas, it is still slightly apparent that fatherhood was not his ambition in life. His daughter who is now 9, truly is the apple of his eye, and she is more important to him than I will ever be. (Which is the way it should be.) But he definitely still likes his Alone Time. Let me just say, Yay to all you step-moms that are not coined Evil. First, helping to raise a child that is partially grown is tough when you weren’t there the first 7 years. Add in the fact that that child is a Girl, who is quite sassy, and you will understand my wanting to stab myself in the head some weekends. The agreeance on parenting is still being worked out…

Being as I love my Rockstar and have no intentions of looking for a new beau, I asked him what his thoughts were on trying to knock me up someday. The chances are slim, and I have heard that men don’t change their minds. He has stated that he is kinda old and hasn’t the energy. So, the question is, do I throw away the chances of ever holding a babe of my own in my arms, of training up a Child in the way he should go, of leaving a little piece of me when I die, for Love? I have to admit, the thought makes my eyesight blurry. However, I HAVE come to realize that I like my Alone Time, and not being “tied down” with a kid has it’s advantages , I suppose. So I ask, as I do not regret the things I’ve done, will I regret the things that I will NOT have done?