A Parlor Trick

What have I learned most recently? Have you an aging parent with short-term memory tremors? Well I have! It can be most disconcerting. It can be a painful experience on a couple of levels. One is obvious that’s the one where you have to listen to the same conversation and questions over and over.

You can find yourself losing your patience and tolerance. Anger is the other by-product that is followed by guilt that you actually got angry.

But I think that I have found a method to circumvent a big chunk of emotional upset. What I do is first track the questions and stories are and commit them to memory.  Next I repeat the same questions and questions and give the same answers in well-paced intervals, before my dad has a chance to ask them again. I now empty my negativity towards him and give him exactly what he needs

Re enforcing what his memory is lacking. Now I am free from impatience and intolerance and best of all anger and guilt. This now makes my visit a positive one and I can spend more time with his long-term memory, which seems intact and I learn things I never knew as a child.  And I can rediscover a deeper love for my father.  A parlor trick maybe but an effective one.  There are no lies just repetitions and I can live with that.

The Excavator

My stepson has been engaged for two days now excavating the basement. The basement, which has fallen prey to capturing everything and everything, we have collected over the past seven years.  There are so many things residing there between books and retired furniture and electronics and my ego-laden trophies from my tenure at my last avocation.

Needless to say he has the ability to remove some of the nostalgia that I would cling to had I been in charge of this project. It’s almost as if he employs a logic I cannot and I thank him for that and to be able to be rid of things we haven’t touched in years.  When I look at some of the items in this trove of individual memories some are hold onto able and most others he has launched to the end of the driveway where treasure seekers or the men that collect refuse have done what they do. 

I am delighted to lighten the load that will still be monumental when we retire from this museum that my wife designed and built with the skill of her artistry and devotion.

Thank you son and I am glad I stayed out of it because I would only have gummed up the works by stopping and staring at things that no longer can occupy space in my head or space in our basement. 

The Thaw

The life of a Step-Dad when Summer time is nigh feels a little more claustrophobic these days.  Maybe I am anticipating less time to do the things I became accustomed to over the early part of 2010.  Certainly writing was job one with me but now that I am back in the insurance game time will grow short when it comes down to my Microsoft word and I. 

My son and I have patched up our little freeze over my posting here and I guess it’s just both of our natures to let things go especially since we have grown closer than he ever could with his biological Dad.  I take no grandiosity in that statement because I have always said that his father has dropped the ball repeatedly over the last 12 years and he made my job most uncomfortable at times. However, I barely give him a second thought these days because I remember my A.A. idiom of being helpless changing people, places or things. In his case he remains an enigma I have no intention of trying to solve.

In any case my fondness for my daughter in law grows day by day and I have this strong paternal feeling about her.  This young woman is always consistent in her mood, demeanor and shyness.  I love her like a daughter I never had.  I am so glad my son found her and I know they love each other even during their little spats about usually possession of the computer or what the ingredients are to be in their daily meals.

Somnolent State of Mind

Peace has descended on my blended family’s household. I knew that time would heal any open wound, including my own.  As I ready myself for departure for the day my family remains in the somnolent state.  It’s quite all right because they depend on me as much as I depend on them albeit in a different way but of no less import to me. 

Maybe I am not just a figurehead as I had selfishly imagined.  Maybe I am more like a loving father to them and it gives my wife the security that her adult chicks are out of harms way in my care. 

My Step Son the Cook

My stepson is making dinner tonight. I know he takes pride in whatever he does. I hope it comes out the way he wants it to. I will eat it and enjoy it but it has to pass muster with him before he feels good about his foray into the culinary arts. 

Oh oh my daughter in law has arrived on the kitchen scene and I didn’t hear what she said but it might be that although my son’s attempts at feeding us all are well-intentioned timing and portions might not have been well executed. I am glad my head is not on the spit right now.  My wife has descended and she will never ever chide her son or anyone for that matter for attempting something new even if it doesn’t come out exactly to specifications.

He’s using the right ingredients: Organic chicken and fresh vegetables soaked in some healthy oil. I don’t know what brought this on but I welcome it just the same.

If it were I it would be tomfoolery, as I would be asking my wife to do more things for me than if she made it herself.  I will stick to driving and answering the phone. 

  And at this late date I have no interest in becoming a chef, maybe next life. No not then either.

Post Script
The meal was not only good it was great. I gobbled up the veggies and the chicken was done to perfection. 

My Stepson's Commencement

In my wildest dreams I never thought I would be sitting in the bleachers in a college gym and be waiting for my stepson to come into the hall for his graduation.  It seemed just a blink of an eye ago that I was in St. Patrick’s church watching him with his mom graduating from 8^th grade. 

Next to my wife and daughter in law we try to get comfortable on the hardwood and not far to my right of me my ears are filled with a oversized middle aged woman engaged in non-stop cackling that is just not to be  believed.  The filter on my ear is trying to blur the sounds but the only thing that will shut her oral cavity is the start of this ceremony.

My son’s biological father is somewhere near and he has claimed ‘lunch’ rights after the proceedings in his typical “grandstand” fashion.  I can’t let that old wound be re-opened, as the only one to suffer will be me.  And after all today is about my son’s graduation, not about how I feel.

I look sideways at my daughter in law who has been the counter-balancing agent to any of my hurt feelings over the past two years. She’s quiet, dutiful in her own way, self effacing but exhibits the strength of character when it’s called on and of course she is beautiful and I must remember to hug her sometime during the course of the day. 

The cackling just kicked into 5^th gear and unlike the drone of 200 mph racecars going by this woman could easily be heard over that din.  Ooh the ceremony is starting and her mouth is finally shut. 

As the music commences and the graduates start to parade in my eyes are being challenged as I fight back the tears of the unknowing.  There is a proud feeling I am experiencing something only a father might know.  

Blood Lines

It’s funny in a way that I have little control over my life here.  The only person that has my agenda as part of hers is my lovely wife.  Everyone else is a just short-term tenant that will go on their way eventually.  Even if I love them in ways they don’t understand I will not try change whether they see my true intention or not. 

Step dads like me with no ties of blood can bleed internally when I am shunned in my own home for feelings any normal human would feel.  It’s okay I will weather this storm as I have done all others. Let it rain because as Annie once said: The sun will come out tomorrow.  

The End Is Near

When the truth is exposed the end is near.  When the windows are shut and the shades are drawn we know how we feel but others haven’t a clue.  I have pulled up the shade and opened the window and I can be heard and seen and no longer do I have to keep my feelings to myself.  I will always try to employ a fair and balanced approach to everyone I love whether they see it that way or not.  Words written are always a relief in a way but there comes a time when the lines of communication have to enter the minds of those we love even if the pain seems too much at first.

I also know that when people over react that it is their way of countering the void they feel in their soul whether it is sorrow, pain, guilt, fear or even anger.  It might appear that it is directed at another but it is the hole they are trying to fill with the circumstances of regret.  When I came to this revelation today I realized that it is not about me it is about them. 

Outside of the Inside

What are the chances of being a Step Dad and a recovering alcoholic and having it work out for all concerned?  Most days that is.  I would venture a guess that it’s probably less than average. Because the success ratios of a step dad blending well with children he did not sire mixed in with the attitudes of an alcoholic even though he is not drinking cannot be the best recipe for a family to digest.  However, for the most part I have been more apart of my stepchildren’s lives than their real father ever was.  I say that not in a smug way because he made my role tougher than it had to be by not taking a more active role as a father.  

It has been quite awhile for this stepdad to get acquainted with what boundaries are. Boundaries was a term I was not familiar with as I never had them in any of my previous relationships, but in a blended family I learned real quick that if I didn’t decide where my responsibilities started and stopped I was in for a boat load of resentment and my stepchildren would tear a chunk out of my heart because they were busy living their rightful egocentric life as children are inclined to do. I didn’t understand this at first because I thought that they would be so happy to find a male figure that had some emotional stability and that they would be eager to toe the line and have regard as to what I thought and to what I said. It was a fire bath for me because they may have been relieved that their mother was happy but I had little importance in what they were determined to have for themselves. 

  

And for most of my stewardship I have been in my words a ‘figurehead’ in my own home. I am not complaining because number one it would have not done any good and secondly and most important, I was very much loved by my stepchildren. Although I felt like I was outside the inside stories most of the time. My wife would make agreements with my children and tell me about it later. Sometimes she would claim that she had told me already and others she just kept to herself hoping (I suppose) that I would not find out or assume that I would agree with it if I did. 

I knew why this was because it was how her first marriage had to be carried out. He was an absentee father and she had to take on the dual role of making decisions for her children and maybe just wanted to give her kids more than she could on her first go round.  I for my part had to keep in mind that I had no biological children of my own and missed out on all the responsibilities I could have had to endure and enjoy had I been blessed with children of my own. 

Silent Scorn

The most powerful action we alcoholics have devised to show disapproval without so much as uttering a word is silent scorn. It starts with the look, our countenance that exudes our disdain. The energy our body reads from the muscles in our face clouds our thoughts so our mental sky is fully occluded. We don’t utter a word in silent scorn it carries with it a language all its own that those around us hear loud and clear as if we were using a sword to slice them to ribbons. Powerful it is this silent scorn and the spoken variety is but a butter knife in comparison.

How do we escape its demonic control over us? It is not easy because this habit we have integrated into our psyche and only conscious awareness can deflect its power. We think we have a sense of entitlement to silent scorn because don’t they know who we are? It flies with the bird of intolerance that we so neatly pack each day in our holster ready to fire. So too does silent scorn bedevil us each time something is not done they way we would have others do it because we have given them secret instructions they should know by telepathy.
We are cowardly when we play silent scorn’s game because we are afraid to face our own virulent brand of self-loathing. We can get help simply by telling those that love us to please warn us when that look seems to be creasing our face.

Random Thoughts

Mother’s Day and I feel strange.  There must be something to the people that are missing in my life on days like these.  I tend to minimize the fact that my mother is gone and that my sister died violently 41 years ago on Mother’s Day.  I suppose that I should be beyond feelings like this but maybe not.

My father is still alive but only in fleeting glimpses now. He gets stuck in an event and cannot seem to escape even though he has been given the key over and over and over again. He called today about his checking account, which was taken care of several weeks ago.  He awaits my call which I will not make after our one sided dust up last month. 

Yes a bit lazy on my part but I have to take care of my own insecurities first before I attend to his imaginary ones.  I suppose mine are imagined too but I will molly coddle myself at least for today.

I struggle with my stepson because I still have a difficult time with his lack of gainful employment and knowing he is headed to China again this year for two months.  This makes his tenure with him and his lovely Chinese wife go beyond two years. And I say to myself that I would love to have the time off he keeps giving himself. He has no pressure to leave just the words he utters every once in awhile when he wants to rationalize his behavior.  I wonder what he will be like when he has to pay his own way.  

The Figurehead

There is never a way to explain how the tumultuousness of being a Step-Dad can wreak havoc on my emotional stability. At times I am peaceful and then there are times that I feel like I have been  used and that I have been a fool.  Then there are some days that I actually feel blessed that I can be a father figure even to adult stepchildren.  Today is one of those days that I am feeling like a doormat but I know that it will pass and feelings aren’t facts. A lot has to do with how I feel about myself not about what I think my blended family might be taking advantage of.  My nature is to be kind but my insecurity at other times can make me feel that what I have always claimed that I am just a figurehead who happens to pay the bills.  As I said all things pass.  

The Next Time

The next time I am a stepdad I will establish boundaries that are very clear and with specificity. I will talk about how I need for the household to be run. Each person with their responsibilities and no more hiding behind your wife to do the things you won’t go near. My son rarely takes out the garbage, never does a dish, and cleans out the cat box or even turns on the dishwasher. 

Nurture At This Age?

When my wife continues to play mommy with her adult married son I have to bite my tongue because it’s a role she cannot remove herself from.  When you boil it down it is a show that I cannot direct or put the kibosh on.  What is is.  She loves her son in a way that I do not.  She sees him as someone that she still needs to nurture. I see it as a way to keep him as a boy.  Oh I cannot wait until he moves out and he has to pay his own bills.  That should be the picture I want a front row seat to.

I am just a witness not the judge or jury. Even if I could be it’s a job I won’t fill out an application for.