Posts tagged ‘Father’

Can You Really Be Upset With Someone Who Always Disappoints?

18 April, 2009 | dcfemella | Comments

evolve-104 (exhibition 2008)

Originally uploaded by sean eng

When someone disappoints you, should you get upset when he/she does it once more? I realized today that my friend is right. You really can’t. My ex is the same person he was when I met him ten years ago: irresponsible, self centered, a dreamer, and neurotic. I could add more traits, but I don’t think there is a point on going there. He has never been a good father or person, in general, so I should stop getting stressed when he screws me over.

He hasn’t seen the kids in a month or called, so I thought he would make more of an effort to pick them up for the weekend. No, he got “lost.” He mentions he has a Blackberry. I tell him to check the maps or online, he says no, he doesn’t want to. I kept pressing the matter, and he said that he doesn’t have internet on his Blackberry. This is after he was on Gmail Chat the entire time. I had to drop my daughter off at her game, take my son to his game, run to her game, pick her up, and go to my son’s game. He not once showed up.

I send him an email stating what happened today, and he says that I am trying to keep him away from his children and that I try to make him look bad (huh?). When I was with him, my best friend told me that is something abusive people do. They turn everything around on the other person, so they end up with no fault. It use to work in the past, but now, it doesn’t.

One of the greatest thing about being human is our ability to constantly evolve. It bothers me to see someone who is still the same person he was when I met him ten years before. I fear passing away before my kids are self sufficient. Why? They would be raise by their father. I think it would be like Terms of Endearment, and he would eventually give the kids to my mother. However, I wouldn’t like that because then the kids would feel like they weren’t good enough for their father to keep them, so he gave them away. Even though, in reality, he is the one who isn’t good enough for them.

He is never going to change, so I have to realize that. I sometimes am tired of being mother and father to the kids, and having no help. However, I’d rather deal with a little stress than have to endure this man. I hope he begins to evolve, but for now, I have to evolve my thinking to not get upset when he once again disappoints the kids.


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Parents Just Don’t Understand

9 March, 2009 | dcfemella | Comments

Bang your head on a wall and call it a day.

Originally uploaded by Bernice Pipa

I am going to rant here about two things: 1. Why do people always want to start being insanely annoying when you are in a bad mood? 2. Why do my parents think that I have no job or something?

Today was rough. I was in back-to-back meetings, someone pissed me off to the ultimate core (my own expression), and my rigatoni that came out perfect fell in the sink. My parents don’t seem to understand that I have a busy life. I’m a single mother with a demanding job. I am sorry if I don’t call every hour. On top of that, I’m sorry that I don’t answer the five calls in a row you make when I am a meeting. Oh, and I love the five voicemail messages I get demanding why I never pick up the phone. CAUSE I’M IN A MEETING!

My mom last Tuesday had oral surgery. When I called my dad, he said that she couldn’t talk til Wednesday. On Wednesday, I was in meeting after meeting. When I get out of the 5th meeting, I have three calls waiting. I listen to the three voicemail messages (Side rant: Why leave three voicemail messages saying the same thing?) stating that I haven’t called my mom who is at home and she is hurt by that. I tell my dad that I will call her after the next meeting.

I call after I drop Isabelle off at ballet. He tells me that he doesn’t understand why I called when she can’t speak. I got irritated and said, “Then why are you trying to make me feel guilty about not calling and now are sitting here acting like you don’t get why I called?”

I go there on Thursday and spend time with my mom. My parents live in Woodbridge, which is super far, but I trekked that way. The kids and I don’t get home til 10PM. I go there all Saturday and just hang with her in bed. On Sunday, I stay there and talk to her, but then leave to go grocery shopping and get my kids and cousins from my sister’s house. My aunt never does anything fun with the kids, so I was nice enough to offer to take them back from Baltimore to Woodbridge and then to Fairfax. I drop my cousins off, and I go to my parents’ house to visit my mom. We don’t get home til 10 or so.

Today I was in meetings all day. I snuck to my spin class to release stress, but that was it. Then I had to deal with someone who shall remain nameless, and so I am not in the best of moods. I get home at 6pm, cook dinner twice (damn rigatoni), help the kids with homework, bedtime, and I am sniffling cause I am so ticked. I just lay down to think when I start getting the infamous repeated phone calls from my dad. After the fourth one, I answer.

He starts off with you have been such a good daughter, so we don’t understand why you haven’t called your mom. She is so sad that you haven’t called. I am annoyed because I called this morning, and I told my dad that I was going to be super busy with meetings today and all i had time for was to relay a message that my sister left me. I have talked to my mom about this before. The only way to contact me at work is via chat or email. That’s it?! This is how I communicate with her during the week, and I barely call. She also knows how much I HATE the phone. I planned on going there tomorrow and probably getting home at 10 p.m. or so.

I tell him that I am tired of this behavior. I have a job and have been in meetings, so why do they act like I am lounging at home doing nothing but staring at the ceiling? After awhile, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I just tuned him out. I am SOOOO happy that I was given the gift of selective hearing.

I need to relax. I am so tense right now that it’s not even funny. Now I feel like a bad daughter because I have meetings that I have to attend and have to focus on the children. I told L. that her parents depend on her too much, and she said mine do as well. I told her that she was wrong. I think that maybe I was the one who is wrong. I guess screwing my children’s schedule, driving hours, spending the weekend there and missing my place means nothing as long as I call ten times a day. Good to know.

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My Most Embarrassing Childhood Moment: Learning About Menstruation From My Macho Dad

18 February, 2009 | dcfemella | Comments

My most embarrassing childhood memory was when I was around 11 or so. My mother was away on a business trip, and so my father was left to take care of my two sisters and I. An Army sergeant with the Latino chauvinism is the best way to describe my father. Whenever my sisters and I would start crying about something, he would scream at us like we were part of his battalion, “Stop being weak! You are a Polastre, so toughen up!” He would take my younger sister and me fishing, camping, hiking, etc., which ensured that we would be tomboys for life.

One morning I woke up with a horrible stomachache. I remember thinking that I must have eaten something that upset my stomach, so I headed to the bathroom. When I sat on the toilet, I looked down and saw blood coming out. My parents are very old fashioned, so they never really told me about menstruation and what not. Luckily I had an older sister, who had already left for school, so I knew it was my period. However, I didn’t know what a woman had to do. I called my younger sister down. She came, and I whispered, “Call my mom.”

She asked why, and at that moment, my dad was coming. He knocked on the bathroom door and asked in his military voice, “Shevonne, why aren’t you ready for school?!

I didn’t answer.

“I asked why aren’t you ready?!”

“Papa, can you call my mom?” I meekly responded.

“WHY?!

I either told him what was going on or I would be living in the bathroom forever.

“I’m bleeding.”

Silence. After a few minutes, my dad said quietly, “Hold on.”

He knocked on the door and said, “Open so I can give you these pads.”

I cracked the door and grabbed them. He explained the whole process to me, even when I had to change them. I think because of the embarrassment we both had to endure, he let me stay home from school.

Even til this day, I blush when I think about the day I started on the road to becoming a woman, and it was my dad who helped me out.

Here is a pic of my daughter Isabelle with my dad:

IMG_0611.JPG

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