Yesterday I decided my selfie picture today would be of my foot. I'm not proud of my feet, but I think a lot about them. Last year at this time I was using crutches and a scooter to get around, as I had broken my left foot. I learned then that my feet are very important to being self-sufficient and having self-esteem. So, my feet are myself, they are my selfie. I chose the left one since it's been through the most with me. And look at it! That bunion could probably tell some stories if it could talk.
My feet have carried me through good time and bad. They are "my own two" things that I stand up on when I need to be strong.
I have the rug pulled out from under them and had to get back up on them. I've been dead on my feet and had to keep them both on the ground.
If feet weren't important would there be so many foot idioms?
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Love is not 'biological'
Something has been eating away at me, at my heart, my happiness. It is something that seems to be completely out of my control and that just makes it more difficult. I don't really know where to start, so I'll jump into the 'shallow' end of it.
I met Darrell when his daughter was 8 years old. She was quiet and leery of me at first, but very quickly we became fast friends. I remember she always wanted me to come over and included me any time they were going to go do something, like dinner or a movie. She was everything to Darrell - he felt that she didn't get a lot of attention from her mom so he made her his number one priority. I didn't try to change that, even as our relationship grew stronger. When it was Darrell's weekend to have her - I called that 'our weekend'. I gladly even sat in the back seat of the car at times so she could be up front with her daddy. I was a mother, so I understood this and it was fine with me, even as our trips and dates would be cut short so he could pick her up unexpectedly from difficult situations she would be having at her mom's with the other kids.
Often she would call me on the phone and talk to me about things that were bothering her. I tried my best to guide her in a gentle and kind way, being careful to always build her own mother up to her. I'm no saint, but I didn't take advantage of the fact that she often said she felt unloved by her mom - instead I would reassure her that every mother loves her children and I would suggest that maybe her mom had a lot of things going on in her life that would be hard for a child to understand. I thought we would always be close, and I enjoyed having her in my life. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't always perfect as she became a teenager and I could usually call her bluff on things. I know she resented that I would catch on to the inconsistencies and let her dad know when she should be doing homework or when she was not being honest about something. But I was always kind to her. I know there was a time when I became more leery of her and my guard went up. It's just too much to write about in this blog - the entire past 16 years. It was just life, with ups and downs, but always with love.
Fast forward to the 'deep end' we now find ourselves in. She's 23 years old now and the mother of three beautiful children. Things are not easy for her and she is living with her mother. Our relationship has not just eroded - it has disappeared. She would tell you that ever since Darrell married me he has stopped helping her - which she blames me for. The truth is that we've helped out a lot. We bought her a car, we bought clothing, we gave cash. At one point Darrell asked me to keep track of it. I tried, but I guess I eventually stopped. It got to the point where Darrell started to feel used - and like he was paying for the pleasure of seeing his grand kids. I will defend myself and write here - I have never told Darrell not to help his daughter. I have never given him a hard time about it. I always tell him to do whatever he needs to do, whatever he wants to do. As a married couple we do consult each other on most expenses, but neither of us ever tells the other that we can't do something. That just isn't how our marriage works. Despite my best efforts through the years to be helpful, she refers to me as "Satan" and "evil", among many other names that I won't repeat. I have searched my memory and my heart to truly decide if I've done anything that would constitute her feelings about me and I know that I have not. This all stems apparently back to one day over 4 years ago. At that time there were two kids, one 2 year old, and one newborn.
It was August, and Darrell and I wanted to take the oldest grandchild to the fair. When I checked in that afternoon to arrange the pickup time I found out the kids were at their other grandma's house. We arrived with a new outfit to put on him, ready for a fun evening. We were greeted by Darrell's ex wife, the grandma. She told us that because his daughter was a terrible mother, she and her husband were going to raise the kids and that we would have them every weekend. We were dumbfounded, as nothing had happened that we were aware of for this to even come up. I asked what had happened and she just repeated that her daughter was a terrible mother. I don't remember everything that was being said, and looking back I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut, because this really was a non-issue. Instead, though, thinking on my feet, I said that would not happen unless some authority was involved - that unless it was a legal arrangement we would not be able to take on raising the kids. (Having observed Darrell's situation with raising his daughter with this woman, it was not something I was willing to put myself through.) She started in on this whole angle that since she was "the biological grandma" and Darrell is the "biological grandpa" they needed to do this. I responded, unfortunately, that I was not. Looking back I guess I now see why she reacted the way she did, but at the time when she said to me "Nancy, what you just said disgusts me" I was honestly confused. My whole thought process was that we didn't have any right to the kids, biological grandparents or not. At that time I can tell you that my step-daughter had challenges raising the kids, but she was doing it and there had never been any incidents or calls to CPS. She did her best and she loved them fiercely. They were safe and they were fed - she took them to the doctor when needed and she worried about their development. She didn't drink or do drugs, she was basically a good girl and a decent mother. The entire problem came about because she had called her mom and said she needed a break and asked if her mom could keep them for awhile.
Long story short, I was ordered out of the house that day, an order I gladly complied with. We took our grandchild and immediately I texted his momma to let her know we were stopping by. We went directly to her apartment and told her what was going on at her mom's. She borrowed our phone to call and confront her mom, who confirmed that she was going to try to take her kids from her. I told her that we would take the little guy to the fair and then keep him for the night. I said that when we returned him the next day we would be returning him to her, not to her mother. I encouraged her to go get her daughter from her mom. That following day we talked a lot and I told her to call us any time she needed a break - I let her know we would help out as much as we could. I helped her deep clean her apartment and began regularly picking up her laundry and taking it home to wash it for her. Nothing else was ever said about it, she kept on raising her kids on her own - and, we continued to help out as much as we could.
A lot has happened since that day- she moved in with the father of the children for a time and then moved out and in with her mother. That is when it all started to go bad. For some reason, now this one conversation that took place 4 years ago keeps coming up - when I supposedly said mean things about the children. The day where I supposedly said I wouldn't help because they weren't my "biological" grandchildren. The way I remember that day was that I stood up for her, that I helped her. I just don't understand how it all got turned around - and I'm hurt. The people who really know me tell me not to worry about it. They know it's hogwash - they know that I love those children. My relationship with the oldest was particularly close and it was getting that way with the middle child, but now so much time has passed. I haven't seen the kids since July. The youngest wouldn't know us at all, as we've seen him a handful of times and he'll be 2 in August. We've bought gifts for every birthday and holiday, but these had to be dropped off on a doorstep or mailed. I don't know if they liked the toys, I don't know if the clothes fit or if they even wear them. I don't know how they're doing in school - I don't know if they're happy. I am sure they're being told that I'm evil - that I don't love them. You know the worst part of this is that Darrell is being robbed of being a grandpa. I tell him to do whatever it takes to get back into their lives, even if that means without me. He has tried, but there is always a catch, a dig, something always happens to derail any hope of making progress toward repairing the father/daughter relationship. He's so hurt and angry that it seems impossible. I don't know what I can do, but I know that I've written this all down in my mind a million times and I guess I thought it might help me to finally write it out. I pray and I hope - sometimes I have dreams. I don't know how I can make her remember that she loved me, that I loved her - and that we talked and played - that I was a good influence in her life. I wish she could see that I would be such a good grandma if she would just let me. Most of all though - I want Darrell to be able to be a grandpa. He deserves that.
(I didn't use any names in this post, simply because I realize it is really personal and involves people who obviously think differently than I do. While it is obvious who I'm talking about, I just couldn't use their names. Just explaining this so it doesn't seem like I'm cold and impersonal.)
I met Darrell when his daughter was 8 years old. She was quiet and leery of me at first, but very quickly we became fast friends. I remember she always wanted me to come over and included me any time they were going to go do something, like dinner or a movie. She was everything to Darrell - he felt that she didn't get a lot of attention from her mom so he made her his number one priority. I didn't try to change that, even as our relationship grew stronger. When it was Darrell's weekend to have her - I called that 'our weekend'. I gladly even sat in the back seat of the car at times so she could be up front with her daddy. I was a mother, so I understood this and it was fine with me, even as our trips and dates would be cut short so he could pick her up unexpectedly from difficult situations she would be having at her mom's with the other kids.
Often she would call me on the phone and talk to me about things that were bothering her. I tried my best to guide her in a gentle and kind way, being careful to always build her own mother up to her. I'm no saint, but I didn't take advantage of the fact that she often said she felt unloved by her mom - instead I would reassure her that every mother loves her children and I would suggest that maybe her mom had a lot of things going on in her life that would be hard for a child to understand. I thought we would always be close, and I enjoyed having her in my life. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't always perfect as she became a teenager and I could usually call her bluff on things. I know she resented that I would catch on to the inconsistencies and let her dad know when she should be doing homework or when she was not being honest about something. But I was always kind to her. I know there was a time when I became more leery of her and my guard went up. It's just too much to write about in this blog - the entire past 16 years. It was just life, with ups and downs, but always with love.
Fast forward to the 'deep end' we now find ourselves in. She's 23 years old now and the mother of three beautiful children. Things are not easy for her and she is living with her mother. Our relationship has not just eroded - it has disappeared. She would tell you that ever since Darrell married me he has stopped helping her - which she blames me for. The truth is that we've helped out a lot. We bought her a car, we bought clothing, we gave cash. At one point Darrell asked me to keep track of it. I tried, but I guess I eventually stopped. It got to the point where Darrell started to feel used - and like he was paying for the pleasure of seeing his grand kids. I will defend myself and write here - I have never told Darrell not to help his daughter. I have never given him a hard time about it. I always tell him to do whatever he needs to do, whatever he wants to do. As a married couple we do consult each other on most expenses, but neither of us ever tells the other that we can't do something. That just isn't how our marriage works. Despite my best efforts through the years to be helpful, she refers to me as "Satan" and "evil", among many other names that I won't repeat. I have searched my memory and my heart to truly decide if I've done anything that would constitute her feelings about me and I know that I have not. This all stems apparently back to one day over 4 years ago. At that time there were two kids, one 2 year old, and one newborn.
It was August, and Darrell and I wanted to take the oldest grandchild to the fair. When I checked in that afternoon to arrange the pickup time I found out the kids were at their other grandma's house. We arrived with a new outfit to put on him, ready for a fun evening. We were greeted by Darrell's ex wife, the grandma. She told us that because his daughter was a terrible mother, she and her husband were going to raise the kids and that we would have them every weekend. We were dumbfounded, as nothing had happened that we were aware of for this to even come up. I asked what had happened and she just repeated that her daughter was a terrible mother. I don't remember everything that was being said, and looking back I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut, because this really was a non-issue. Instead, though, thinking on my feet, I said that would not happen unless some authority was involved - that unless it was a legal arrangement we would not be able to take on raising the kids. (Having observed Darrell's situation with raising his daughter with this woman, it was not something I was willing to put myself through.) She started in on this whole angle that since she was "the biological grandma" and Darrell is the "biological grandpa" they needed to do this. I responded, unfortunately, that I was not. Looking back I guess I now see why she reacted the way she did, but at the time when she said to me "Nancy, what you just said disgusts me" I was honestly confused. My whole thought process was that we didn't have any right to the kids, biological grandparents or not. At that time I can tell you that my step-daughter had challenges raising the kids, but she was doing it and there had never been any incidents or calls to CPS. She did her best and she loved them fiercely. They were safe and they were fed - she took them to the doctor when needed and she worried about their development. She didn't drink or do drugs, she was basically a good girl and a decent mother. The entire problem came about because she had called her mom and said she needed a break and asked if her mom could keep them for awhile.
Long story short, I was ordered out of the house that day, an order I gladly complied with. We took our grandchild and immediately I texted his momma to let her know we were stopping by. We went directly to her apartment and told her what was going on at her mom's. She borrowed our phone to call and confront her mom, who confirmed that she was going to try to take her kids from her. I told her that we would take the little guy to the fair and then keep him for the night. I said that when we returned him the next day we would be returning him to her, not to her mother. I encouraged her to go get her daughter from her mom. That following day we talked a lot and I told her to call us any time she needed a break - I let her know we would help out as much as we could. I helped her deep clean her apartment and began regularly picking up her laundry and taking it home to wash it for her. Nothing else was ever said about it, she kept on raising her kids on her own - and, we continued to help out as much as we could.
A lot has happened since that day- she moved in with the father of the children for a time and then moved out and in with her mother. That is when it all started to go bad. For some reason, now this one conversation that took place 4 years ago keeps coming up - when I supposedly said mean things about the children. The day where I supposedly said I wouldn't help because they weren't my "biological" grandchildren. The way I remember that day was that I stood up for her, that I helped her. I just don't understand how it all got turned around - and I'm hurt. The people who really know me tell me not to worry about it. They know it's hogwash - they know that I love those children. My relationship with the oldest was particularly close and it was getting that way with the middle child, but now so much time has passed. I haven't seen the kids since July. The youngest wouldn't know us at all, as we've seen him a handful of times and he'll be 2 in August. We've bought gifts for every birthday and holiday, but these had to be dropped off on a doorstep or mailed. I don't know if they liked the toys, I don't know if the clothes fit or if they even wear them. I don't know how they're doing in school - I don't know if they're happy. I am sure they're being told that I'm evil - that I don't love them. You know the worst part of this is that Darrell is being robbed of being a grandpa. I tell him to do whatever it takes to get back into their lives, even if that means without me. He has tried, but there is always a catch, a dig, something always happens to derail any hope of making progress toward repairing the father/daughter relationship. He's so hurt and angry that it seems impossible. I don't know what I can do, but I know that I've written this all down in my mind a million times and I guess I thought it might help me to finally write it out. I pray and I hope - sometimes I have dreams. I don't know how I can make her remember that she loved me, that I loved her - and that we talked and played - that I was a good influence in her life. I wish she could see that I would be such a good grandma if she would just let me. Most of all though - I want Darrell to be able to be a grandpa. He deserves that.
(I didn't use any names in this post, simply because I realize it is really personal and involves people who obviously think differently than I do. While it is obvious who I'm talking about, I just couldn't use their names. Just explaining this so it doesn't seem like I'm cold and impersonal.)
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