Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Friday, April 15, 2011

Another Fucked-Up Friday...

Unbelievable. I had a nice, organized list for productive, important things to do today by 9:00 this morning. Sarita came and we mapped out our route.

Then the phone call. Family crisis. I went into my phone booth and changed into my SuperSomething persona, prepared to take control and be a heroine. Unfortunately, not all the family was on board. So I did the rational thing and said, "Call me if you decide you need my help." In this case, the family member lashed out and said some hateful things, but since I love and respect this person, I was able to see the response as pain and frustration and anger bordering on rage. I was an easy target. And that's ok.

Families are so complicated. I know. I've made so many mistakes with Kiddo. But always, I own up. I apologize to him. I cry. I tell him how much I love him. I try to explain that my craziness has lots more to do with my own shit than with him. Still, my heart breaks when I remember some of the painful times.

I don't take any credit, but he's an amazing kid, doing amazing things at UNC, an amazing school. I love him desperately, but he's incredibly independent, and so am I. I think we owe that all to his grandmother. I even forget about him sometimes. It's hard to believe that he'll be home in three weeks. For three short weeks. Then he heads to Africa for a month.

I am so very proud of him. I hope one day we can talk about the good and the bad. I just hope he can forgive, and see the good in my mistakes. So many parents can't admit their shortcomings. Damn, I have lots of practice with that. There are so many.

Ok. I'm feeling kinda frustrated, so I think I'll head out the back door and mow the lawn. It'll be a big chore since there are lots of unraked leaves from last fall. Plus, I think I'm out of lawn bags. Might have to borrow some from a neighbor.

Hopefully, in a couple hours, I'll come in, filthy and exhausted, hit the shower and forget my troubles.

It is Friday afternoon, after all...

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