A Late Dad to a Daughter

My husband found out last year that he had a daughter from his previous wife, so he came late to being the dad of a daughter.  He met her shortly before her 11th birthday.  The bonded immediately, as she did with her two brothers her dad had with me.  Instantaneous, right down to the sibling fights, shouts of "Leave Me Alone!" and hugs and kisses.

But as wonderful as it is to get to know her, I can't help but think of all he (and she) missed.  Michael Mitchell has a wonderful blog called Life to Her Yeaars that is letters to his daughter that he started when she was born.  It's pretty awesome.  But he did a guest blog called 50 Rules for Dads of Daughters that just made me cry.  They are wonderful pieces of advice.  What made me cry was how many of these rules my husband can't obey with his daughter because he missed the first decade of her life.

He'll never get play peekaboo with her.  He'll never be able to sit her on his lap and let her drive his car.  He's already missed ten birthdays.  He'll never get to turn her down gently when she asks him as a young girl to marry her .  He's never going to see her get on the school bus.He'll never get to ride her on his shoulders.  These are "rites of passage" with daughters and dads.  And he has missed SO much not knowing about her.  They both have.

It makes me sad.

She lives so far away (about 8 hours) that he misses so much of her life.  Telephone calls, Facebook and texts only do so much.  He can't hug his daughter electronically.  He can't help her with her homework.  He can't tease her until she smiles.  He won't know IF she smiles.  He can't ruffle her hair with his hand.  He can't argue with her over bedtime.  He misses so much of her life.  He misses Her.

When she comes back at Christmas he will marvel over how tall she's gotten.  He'll give her Christmas presents, take her places, tease her, dote on her, and love her.  But all of that he will also do for the boys.  That's right of course, but they are still making up for lost time.  Lost time they will never get back.

All he can do from now on is his best.  We all try not to dwell on "what-if."  It is a senseless question and really does more harm than good when asked.  He forms the bonds of love with her now while he can, and tries to show her that he loves her.  But it's difficult when those years of her innocent, unconditional trust were missed.

That they are together makes me very happy.  That they missed ten years makes me sad.  I'm looking at the relationship from the outside, so how much more do they feel?

Hug your daughter(s).  Hug your son(s).  Love them.  Realize how precious they are.  Think how lucky you are to have had them this long, and remember that they can be taken from you in a blink.  In an instant everything can change.  Don't take this time for granted.  You can be there and still miss it if you aren't careful.

Be careful.

And comment if you have any special remembrances of your kids, of lack of them.  Tell me if this grabs your heart for any reason.  I'd like to know.

As a Mother & Step-Mother

First, as a Step-Mother.......

H. went home last weekend.  We drove her the entire 7 hours home.  It was a long road trip.  But with her laughing in the back seat, telling us stories, clearly excited to be going home, it was rather short.  Bittersweet, but short.  Then we got close to home.  She got quiet.  Very quiet.  Sad.  So did we.  The 7 hours back home were much longer. And quieter.  And more bitter, than sweet.  Even if DH and I got to spend 7 hours without hearing, "Mommy, he touched me."  "Mommy, are we there yet?"  "Mommy, when are we going to be there?"

The house, too, is quiet.  It's amazing how one less child (with 2 still in attendance, and boys, at that), can make a house feel so empty.  There is no more giggling 12-year-old girl doing a funny walk across our living room.  There is no girl with puppy-dog eyes saying, "Daaaaad, may I pleeeeeeeeeeease stay up until 10:30?"  There is no girl asking me to play archery with her on the Wii and beat her dad.  There is no girl.  And I miss her.  There seems to be an empty place in my heart now.  Even though she is just a few hours away, she feels gone.  Even though I talk to her every night, she feels gone.  I feel her gone.  And I miss her.  I almost feel like a kid again wanting to know "When is Christmas going to be here?" because SHE will be back then.  And then I won't miss her.

Second, As a Mother.......

All of you parents are familiar with school color charts.  They all vary some, but in essence, Green is Good; Yellow, not-so-much (or "just a little bad" as M likes to say); and Red is REALLY going-to-get-a-spanking Bad.

Usually, M is my little Martian.  He stays on green.  He's sweet, lovable, mischievous, but he stays on green.  Not this week.  So far, we've had Red, Yellow, Green, Red/Green (Red in the morning, Green in the afternoon because his teacher is too sweet and took pity on him), and today.....well, today, I'm scared to ask.  All colors (other than green) are for being defiant and back talking his teacher.  He acts up, she calls him down, he say, "So?"  Why?  I asked him.  He said, "I like saying 'so.' " Huh?  Where did my little Green Martian go?  Could he be 7 hours North (see above) with H?  Is that what is prompting this bad behavior?  I hope so.  And I hope my little Green Martian will come home soon.  I miss him, too.  And I know his pre-school teacher misses him, too.

Z, is a different story.  He's more like Jekyll and Hyde lately.  And, no, it can't be teenage hormones because he's only 7.  We've seen Red, Orange, Yellow, Orange this week.  I cannot text his teacher and ask about his behavior.  Not that I really want to do that.  With his track record this week, I'm thinking I really don't want to know.  He has gotten spankings 4 days this week.  We took away all electronics -- Wii, DS, computer, everything except his TV which his little brother shares.  (It wouldn't have been fair to M to take away the TV.)  We've begged, pleaded, yelled (I regret the yelling), bribed, threatened......nothing is working.  I would say that his problems began with his sister's return home, but we had the same problems during the ENTIRE 1st GRADE.  Making noises (humming, tapping), not listening, consistent disobedience, playing in the bathroom (really? the bathroom?  can't you find a better place to play, son?), not following directions.  It's like Z is in his own little world, and will only open the door if he likes what his teacher is saying.  If not, oh, well.  Z seems to think if he ignores her long enough, she'll disappear.  Not happening.

Z is a smart kid.  I mean REALLY smart.  And usually well-mannered, polite, sweet.  A regular Dr. Jekyll.  Except at school.  Then Mr. Hyde comes out.  Loud, obnoxious, stubborn, rude, brat.  His dad and I are almost at our wit's end.  We hoped that the Talented & Gifted program he is in this year (see?  I told you he was smart!) would help with the behavior.  We hoped that Cub Scouts would help with the behavior.  We're still hoping.  And praying.  And begging, threatening, bribing, etc.  I don't like Mr. Hyde.  I want to evict him from my house.  Now.

So, that's my life lately.  Full little roller coaster, isn't it?  That's why this post is a day late (and I know you all waited anxiously with bated breath yesterday wondering why it wasn't appearing!  Yeah, right!).  We've had happiness, sadness, anxiety, anger, disappointment, confusion.  I'm tired of the roller coaster.  I WANT OFF!!!   I want my little Green Martian back.  I want Dr. Jekyll back.  I want H.  back.  I want all of my kids (even the one I just get to borrow) back at my house.  Under one roof.

So, if any of you wonderful friends and readers have any ideas on how to accomplish any / all of the above, then I await your suggestions, answers, and comments with hope and prayers.  Thank you all for listening to me rant.  Thank you for letting me borrow your shoulders on which to shed a few tears.  Thank you for just being there as once again, I lose my composure over my children.  Thank you for being my friends.