So I did it. I am out here in the world. Writing my first blog. It feels weird. Surreal. I sort of wondered about this whole blogging thing. I was not even sure I could write shit interesting enough to keep people’s attention. Then it hit me. Start a facebook page first. IF people pay attention there, you might just do ok at the blog thing. I broke 2100 fans on facebook, so here I am. Writing my first blog. I am not sure what to write about though. See I am a fan of so many amazing wonderful blogs. Ones that just blow my page out of the water. I am not sure where to start, I do not believe in the whole “Hi my name is Mom-t I am from Anytown, USA and this is my life with my wonderful husband and wonderful son” Because its BULLSHIT. If you have the perfect life and the perfect everything you have no need to write. Unless, of course, its just to shove your perfection in the faces of those of us trying to get there, but I digress.
I wanted to be a writer. My whole life I have wanted to write. I wrote poetry, stories, and more. I worked on projects for friends and got a degree for Journalism. And that was the ONE thing my dad and I always were in agreement about. I should be a writer.
That can be my subject. My dad. See it was ONE year ago today I lost him to cancer. Lost. Like a dog? No that is not right. Because I can not put signs up saying “Lost Dad, reward if found”. He is GONE. I am about to say something totally selfish and horrible. But my father in law passed away at the beginning of last month. And I was devastated. But in my brain, as everyone grieved and surrounded my husband in support, I was pissed. Because it was unexpected to lose my pop, so he got an outpouring of support. But I was not in need of as much support. I had time to prepare? Since the cancer was killing him slowly? Hell, my dad died, and I went to work at my new job 2 days after his funeral. And I am a mom. When am I allowed to grieve? Never. Because I have to stay strong for my son, strong for my husband, strong for my mom. Its been a year. And I have barely had time to cry. So I cried. A LOT for pop. But it was more for my own father. My husband, he understood. But some people said I was a bad person for being like that.
My dad and I had a volatile relationship at best. We were best friends and worst enemies. I would tell him everything but would run to my mom for the “serious stuff” like when I got arrested. Again. My father taught be almost everything there is to know about cars, and woodworking, and more. I had a strange connection with my dad because he was a stay at home daddy. He was the one who would make me lunch and taught me to cook, who would help with homework, or play games with me. He also was a hard ass and an alcoholic. I grew up in bars on pinball machines. But I learned a lot on those bells and lights. And as a teen I hated him. And as an adult he made me feel like a bad parent. But one day, right before he died, I woke up. And I decided I was not going to be one of those people with regrets. He called me at his sickest point, and said some really hurtful things to me. On my birthday. And I laid him out. I told him he was one to judge for me being a bad parent. I called him every name I had held my tongue on for over 28 years. My mom got mad. “Its just the medication talking he did not mean what he said” I told her, well, I meant what I said to him.
I told him the same thing I am now telling myself. You are both a terrific success and miserable failure as a parent and as a person. You can hang on to the negativity and be dragged into hell by it. Or you can choose to get off your ass and enjoy your life, whatever may be left in it, and KNOW that as long as you turn out a great kid, like that, you are doing just fine. Thats about all I got for now.