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...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

I Just Don't Know

I thought I was ok. Deb came. The D was great. I had some sweet interactions with Kiddo.

Then Deb brought Daddy home from their visit to the cemetery. I was so proud of the flowers I'd arranged. I thought the little arrangement would provide comfort. But Deb refused to take them home. I didn't see that coming. She was so close to Mother. And she's had some trials in her maternal role lately. I suppose her method of coping kicked in. Denial. If you ignore it, it'll go away.

She's the baby. I'm a big believer in the influence of birth order on personality. Deb's a classic baby. So sweet to her mother. I think babies never outgrow that role of the youngest and cutest. They love to be taken care of. There's no sense of independence. The fucked up middle child gets displaced and has to fend for herself. Particularly when there's an evil, bitch-from-hell, controlling and manipulative older sister.

The middle child seeks approval. No one notices her. They're all about the cute baby. Deb was a little blonde cherub. I vividly remember this scene. We were in the front yard when she was about four years old, which would make me seven. Bikinis had just made it to the masses. Mother had gotten her one. Daddy was there with the polaroid. Carefully timing the exposure. She was a star. So cute.

I've never in my life worn a bikini. There's the whole body dysmorphic thing. I've come a long way with that, but still, I'll never shine like that sweet, adorable, innocent, precious little sister. Maybe it's a good thing I was a late bloomer. Not sure I've really bloomed yet. And my sweet baby sister has all but given up on her dreams. It pains me to think about the things she says, but I'm not sure I wouldn't feel the same way if I'd been dealt the very unlucky cards she's had.

Deb wound up paying a price for her beauty. I had to make it on my personality and brains. You know what it means when a guy says a girl has a "great personality." She's butt ugly but she'll do in a pinch.

Guess what. I'm glad I never got the kind of attention my pretty little sister did. It was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

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