Other People’s Children.
I suspect that the next month or so will be filled with laborious posts about me working through my lack of graciousness as a host, step-mother, and human being.
It could be, in part, due to pregnancy hormones. I suspect it’s mostly just me, though.
My blood sugar is up. Way up. It’s been a few days, and I want to try to regroup my inner self and work my way to a place of relative tranquility, and reassess before I call my doctor and get the order for injectable insulin. I know that stress wreaks havoc on blood sugar control.
I don’t know why I let things get to me. I think I might feel a bit helpless, in that I’m sort of forced into the situation of sharing my home and my life with near strangers for a while. It rocks the boat somewhat, and add to that the fact that I’m the one who is basically shouldering the expense for the better part of all of it. Not that I’m complaining that much about the cost (yet). I sort of doubt Gadget would be able to see his kids if he weren’t married to me (unless he moved to Kentucky). He doesn’t make enough to cover more than the child support (and it’s only for the one) and basic living expenses, so if he had to come up with enough to cover plane tickets, entertainment, and food, I think he’d be hard pressed. And of course he wants to bring both kids out. Which is fine for now, but the boy is 19 now, and at some point this summer I’m going to have to let it be known that he’s welcome to visit in future, but he has to get here on his own dime. Or else I’ll tell Gadget that he’ll have to come up with the tickets on his own. Oh, I don’t know. I sound like such a selfish money grabbing cow.
And of course, Gadget takes every opportunity to bring out the comparisons, that I don’t freak out when MY nieces and nephew are here, and I have a much higher threshold of tolerance for them than I do for his kids. It’s true. I tell him that of course I’m more comfortable with my people, just like he’s more comfortable with his. He’s been making comments about how spoiled and privileged mine are, and how annoying that is to him. All of which I don’t appreciate one bit. I think its in defense of his own kids, but it’s a childish way to reason things out, and I wish he wouldn’t do it. Just accept that his kids are the way they are, and don’t compare them to mine. Please!
In many ways, I think his kids are more spoiled. They’re not raised to be independent thinkers. They’re not raised to learn responsibilities. If they had more income to work with, they’d have more privileges and conspicuous consumption. As is, they each have their own TVs, VCRs, and DVD players in their own rooms. They have video games. They don’t have the latest and greatest, but they have much. I don’t plan on allowing my little one to have his own TV, ever! If there is TV time, I want it to be family time, and limited. The same goes for video game time. Bedrooms are for sleeping and imaginative toys/play, but not mind-numbing electronics.
People can live rich and fulfilling lives with very little income. There are many wholesome and satisfying things to do. But these people have very limited vision and imagination. I think Gadget is just as guilty of this as anyone. Why else would I call him Gadget? He always wants things. Motorcycle (unauthorized acquisition), boat, big screen TV, hot tub (another acquisition that I regret, frequently), fancy truck, electronics, and on and on and on. And he’s got most of these things! (I’m an enabler, and I need to make it stop.) I do make sure that I often express that there will be no boat, ever, unless it’s a rowboat or canoe. No snowmobiles. No ATVs. No dirt bikes. No, no, NO!
Anyhow. I’m trying to put my finger on what’s causing me the most immediate stress. I’m finding myself very weary with the boy’s attitude and mannerisms. He’s constantly making noises. There’s a steady commentary. Or else just body sounds, like noisy throat clearing, or grunts and groans. Lip smacking. Loud gulping when he drinks. And he sniffs everything. He opened a box of cereal and stuck his whole face in the box, then inhaled. I don’t know why, but it bugs the hell out of me. When I’ve got the food laid out on the table, he sticks his face close to the various dishes and inhales. It makes my skin crawl. And I think I saw him sneeze without attempting to cover his mouth, with the silverware drawer open. I hope it’s not true, but I suspect it is. I didn’t empty the drawer and re-wash everything. But I felt like it. I have kitchen towels for drying dishes and separate ones for drying hands. I have a huge stack of towels for kitchen use. I don’t want anybody using the dish towels for hands. And I find that it bothers me to use the same hand towels, even, after I see him using one. I think my OCD is teetering on the brink of something more serious. I’m a little ashamed of myself, but at the same time, think that maybe I need to just respect that this is the way I am for whatever reason, and work with it so that there can be as little rocking of the boat as possible. So I can always just get myself a fresh hand towel, and reiterate that the dish towels are only for dishes. It’s easy enough without making him feel like he’s untouchable. I think that may be what it boils down to though. Or else it’s just the aftermath of how I process the extreme lack of common sense and independence that I’m witnessing on a near constant basis. It’s very wearisome to hear I can’t spoken over and over and over again, without actually taking a moment to assess and at least try to figure out ____. I can tolerate it with my three year old. He’s three, and I’m trying to teach him to think about things and try things, rather than say he can’t. But these folks are not three. And I was over half way through college when I was 19.
It makes me grateful for my own upbringing. Yes, my dad was a tyrant and my mom was a martyr, and living conditions were generally deplorable, but they were both strong and independent people and they both had a good hard work ethic. Yankee Ingenuity. It’s something my dad would often say in reference to my mom. While he had the scholarly genius (and complete lack of common sense), she had the practical genius (and somewhat lack of scholarly intellect). And although neither were active in teaching us anything, that I can recall, we learned much from observation and example. We (some of us, anyway) learned that we can find a way to do nearly anything, given the will. We left home and struck out on our own at the earliest opportunity.
I can hardly imagine this boy on his own, making his own way. It sounds as though he wants and hopes to live at home, that his mother wants him home, but the stepdad wants him out. Of course he despises his stepdad. I can sort of see the stepdad’s point of view though. Even though neither adult is working, he does and has worked sporadically, so he is the only income generator in that household. I can’t even begin to comprehend the mother. I can’t put the points from A-to-B, that a person can live without contributing or generating some of that living. My mother was a homemaker, a SAHM, who generated no income, but she worked her ass off. She was in no way or shape any kind of a drain or burden on anybody. But their mother… They learn from observation that they can get by without actually working. It’s a shame, and it bothers me deeply. I guess she thinks she contributes financially, because she collects the child support from Gadget, and they use that to live on. So by bearing his child, she’s done her part until the girl turns 18. Of course I think Gadget should support his child. And so does he. It just seems that she should make an attempt to do so as well. If she were teaching them life skills, values, and simple appreciation, that would be one thing.
Maybe it’s a Southern thing. A Southern, cultural thing. I don’t know. It seems like there are hard-working, intelligent, and responsible people who come from the South. And if I think of it, there are plenty of unimaginative lazy people in every part of the country. Even here. So it can’t just be a Southern thing.
Meanwhile, I need to get a grip. I took my little one and left the house on Saturday morning, went to the gym, then got groceries. I needed to be AWAY. I felt bad, knowing those kids were feeling housebound and would love to go grocery shopping, but I needed to be AWAY. We were gone for over four hours. It helped a little. Yesterday I left again, alone, just to go to the store for more groceries. (These people eat a LOT!) I’m used to quiet, so having people underfoot all day, making strange sounds on top of everything else, is grating on me.
Selfish cow.
