Category Archives: dads

Daddy.

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Daddy.

I feel the need to openly speak my truths, even though it seems dramatic and juvenile. Call it what you will-I call it necessary.
Over six years ago, things got weird with my father. The man who cheated on my mother, and I forgave countless times over the years-even after being uninvited to my paternal Grandfather’s funeral because I monetarily was flat broke to get there and 8.5 months pregnant.
I forgave him for shunning me out of his life once again. He finally met our daughter when she was almost a year old. After we almost lost her during my pregnancy due to a rapidly growing cyst. I underwent major surgery and went into preterm labor, and we all survived. With the love and support of my father and new in-laws and maternal side all rooting for us. But that didn’t last long with him…
Over the years it became an emotional roller coaster of taking sides and fighting amongst the family. But my father and his wife stood by our sides after we mended fences years before.
This brings us to about six years ago, as I stated earlier. We were so close. In 2008, Our home burned down a few years prior, and my father opened his newly purchased condo to us. I remember pulling my husband aside, in all the confusion and heartache, and saying this would destroy our relationship with them…sure enough, I guess it did.
Fast forward to 2011-I had a feeling I might be pregnant when things were getting weird with my father and step mother. It had been over a year since we moved out of their condo and back home. There was plenty of tension over the course of the year living there, but we put up with it, feeling guilty and grateful for having a place to live while we rebuilt our life and home.
It started with a mild disagreement with my father over the phone about painters he hired(our neighbors who we apprehensively recommended for the job).
My father seemed out of sorts and flipped out at my husband who he generally got along really well with.
They had heated words, and I told my husband to end the call civilly if it escalated.
Well it escalated… for days.
My last actual phone call with my father was bizarre. Very heated on his end, coming from a man who always very mellow and calm.
I had promised myself not to get upset and freak out, because I had a feeling I was pregnant…and almost 40. I was terrified I could jeopardize this gift coming our way so late in our lives.

I listened to his berating and accusations. I tried to calmly challenge him. Not sure how it ended, but I do remember an email telling me with expletives (as he swears we referred to my step mother) that he chose the B@tch over all of us…and soon after sold his home and beach condo and moved to Arizona.
I am coming forward to call my father out, (who I adored), for being a no good nothing.
He didn’t fight for us when we were toddlers, he didn’t fight for us as teens. He tolerated us as adults.
Not sure if it was his own doing, but regardless, any man that can walk away THREE times from his daughter, and now all three daughters and 14 grandchildren (some he doesn’t even know) for the past six years…I hope he can look in that mirror and say it was worth it. Because I know his mother, and father, and sister would not approve of the lies.
Stop sharing our pictures and pretending you care and have this big diverse beautiful family…because you do NOT know this family. Giving the grandkids that you DO still occasionally speak to, an HOUR of your time when it fits your schedule when you live in Arizona? Why bother?
They’d be better off without the offer.
I loved you.
I adored the idea of my daddy loving me back finally. Of wanting to know me and loving my kids…who by the way, have no desire to speak to him again…they adored him…he did the same to them as he did to me and my sisters forty years ago…
All I have left to say, is I loved you, Dad.
But I bid you farewell.
Stay away.
It hurts too much.

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A Few Good Men.

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A Few Good Men.

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On the six month anniversary of losing one of these good men…cancer won yet another battle, but we are here to remember a loving good man and keep fighting the good fight against cancer.

Karma Is A Funny Thing

I don’t usually write two posts in one day, but  I just have to.

There are a few good men in my life. I won’t name any names, but they know who they are. Well, except for my three year old, since he cannot read this yet…but he knows I adore him.

We have faced some serious challenges recently…but none nearly as bad as some of my favorite men…

I love them. They love me…unconditionally. Some may not be blood, but I have grown to realize this does not matter anymore…it is who sticks around, even when things get tough, that matter most.

And they matter…a lot.

It is not my journey or my story to tell for these men, but all I can do is let them know this…

I love them…I really and truly love them with all of my heart.

They watched me grow…

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Potty Talk.

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Potty Talk.

I feel like I lost my funny side.

So much heartache and sadness as of late seems to have made me not so funny.

Or maybe I never was funny…

I always thought I had a slightly humorous side to me, especially in a dark moment to bring some light.

But I am THAT girl…the one who always forgets the punch line…or the end of a knock knock joke.  Which seems to make my family and friends laugh more…I am the official spoiler of a good joke!

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I may not be the next Ellen DeGeneres, but at least my kids are funny…and our son? Now HE is funny.

I won’t tell him this now, for fear he will be the class clown at a young age.

But he is also the only one that REALLY thinks I am funny, so he holds a special place in my heart for laughing at all things Mommy.

He is three and loves potty talk, so any word like fart/poop/butt make him roll on the floor with giggles…

My hubby, you would think some days, might be three as well…he also loves potty talk…he too will roll on the floor with laughter with fart jokes and poopy songs…

I, however, am not a huge fan of bathroom related humor.

I am the potty talk snob, I guess.

My three year old’s favorite word right now is “diarrhea”…which was probably learned from one of his father’s self-penned songs about bowel movements.

Our son literally will say the word diarrhea over…and over. AND over. To the point where yesterday, I pulled him aside and said this needs to stop. Mommy doesn’t like this word and potty talk is not nice…Your teacher next year will NOT be happy with potty talk…he laughed.

Am I surprised? Nope.

He has the unfortunate talent of twerking as well (his older sisters teaching him this as soon as he was able to walk) and now he has a growing audience of twelve cousins/siblings and all of their friends who laugh and post videos on social media at his antics. He breaks out the twerk dance moves and screams ” diarrhea-butthead-poopy face!!!” and makes them all start howling with laughter and pulling cell phones out to film for yet another snapchat story…he is breaking into the performing arts at a young age.

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We are in trouble. BIG trouble.

I can hear my phone ringing in September…caller ID showing my son’s preschool number.

“He did WHAT?!! Noooo…not our little man. Are you sure?!!” Twerking on tabletops screaming DIARRHEA???!!!

Oh yes…that is my son (as my voice lowers to almost a whisper, full of embarrassment).

Did I say BIG trouble?

Nipping this one in the bud by the end of the summer…we will slowly fade out of potty talk and more into ABC’s and 123’s (or my hubby’s cell number will be first on the list for Emergency Contact Phone Numbers at preschool).

It feels good to write about something senseless…even though it may become a big problem for us as parents with a toddler who soaks up more trash talk than Spongebob.

Potty talk will probably always be hanging around this house since all of our kids have my husband’s sense of humor, thankfully. They are becoming pretty well-adjusted, well-mannered young people…and can still come home and left off some steam (or gas) with some good potty jokes with Dad…

There are bigger woes in life for us right now, and potty talk may not be appropriate, but if it makes them laugh right now…it can stay…

Until preschool starts.