Daphne / Daphne’s father

Standard

If you know me, you know that my conscience is very sensitive. Even just thinking something that would hurt someone else hurts me.

Conscientious almost describes it. Compulsively conscientious. I have to do the best I can do or I fall apart – emotionally.

So, this blog post will be very difficult to publish and allow people to read, but I have to. I can’t let myself OR Daphne’s father get away with this horrible behavior.

Last night, I was mopping at work. Sweeping and mopping give me too much time to think about other things. I prefer to clean restrooms, at work. While doing that, I’m so focused on doing it really well that my brain doesn’t have room for other thoughts.

I thought (while mopping), “More than half my paycheck went to child support for Daphne!!!”

I owe thousands of dollars in back-pay child support. They take out more to try to catch me up.

That’s all while Daphne’s father makes 6 or 7 times (or more) than I do. That’s all while Daphne’s father orders food from restaurants, drinks beer all night, smokes his cigarettes, and has not even one financial worry. He tips people unbelievable amounts – for what little they’ve done for him. He’s tried to pay me for “babysitting” Daphne. He has no financial worry, but I’m worried about my financial situation if I buy a cup of coffee for myself.

I weigh 111 pounds. I’m underweight. But he’s over there eating almost-gourmet meals every single night.

While still clothing a 4 and a half year old with 3T clothing and still having a hard time getting rid of any of her 2T clothing. The last time I was there, she still doesn’t have a proper car seat. Her current car seat won’t buckle properly, because she’s grown. But he puts those kinds of things off.

When she has a tantrum, he wants to “hold her in his arms.” Her tantrums are rarely or never met with any sort of discipline. I’m not talking about spankings, etc. I’m talking about teaching (discipline) her self-control and empathy.

I’m her birth mother, but I wasn’t able to be there for her. I wasn’t able to teach her that she can’t have anything she wants and that she can’t refuse to listen to her parent – all of the time. Yes, I’ve called her a brat (not to her face) several times. Many times. I have no other name to describe her behavior. But that is not her fault. It’s his and it’s mine (for not being there).

But if I had had my way, she would have been adopted. She would have a mom and a dad, self-control, and proper items for every day living. Things that fit her. Things she needs. I want the best for all of my children. Chloe, Daphne, Isaac, and Juliet – they all deserve a good childhood. A safe, good, happy childhood. And two parents. I know there are some great single parents. But Daphne does not have one. He’s not abusive. He’s neglectful, despite having money and a nice house.

Yes, this is a long blog post. But this one was a-long-time-coming. I just tried to hold it all in, but I can’t anymore.

I KNOW that my part of this conversation is almost just-as-bad as his. I know that I’m a terrible person who holds a lot of shame for how I feel about my own 4 year old daughter. I know.

Here’s the text conversation that took place last night:

Me: Hope you enjoy receiving half of my paychecks even though you don’t need it and never use it.

Him: Are you whining? Instead you should be apologizing to Daphne for your behavior in front of her on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. You should be embarrassed.

Me: F*ck you and your lazy ass. You have created a brat child and you defend her because you know you have no idea how to be an actual parent. You are just a caregiver. You feed and almost clothe her with clothing that doesn’t even fit her.

Him: Git back to work or go to jail.

Me: You are an idiot. That’s all. You will be alone forever. Have fun.

Him: Jail? Or work?

Me: Go have another beer, alcoholic.

Him: Get back to work, slave.

Me: It is for the brat, not you.

Him: Daphne sees through you better than you see through yourself. She doesn’t want to be alone with your crazy ass. I don’t blame her. Now git back to work!

Me: Cool.

 

End.

((( On Christmas Eve, Daphne was behaving especially bratty. Why? Because the night before, her father allowed her to stay up all night on her iPhone. She didn’t get a normal night’s sleep. She “slept in” until 11am, but woke up in a bad mood. I wasn’t in a great mood either. I hate the holidays. I always have.

Daphne could tell that I was in a bad mood. I wasn’t my normal self. I had a short temper that day. I put her in time out in the bedroom and shut the door (that she’s able to open by herself). I called him (as he was Christmas shopping for her). I told him that she was in time out. By the end of the conversation, I had decided that I needed to go home before I ended up ruining the holidays for them. On Christmas morning, I decided to go visit. I tried to be okay, but I still really wasn’t.

Eddie said he was going to go get eggs for Christmas morning breakfast. Daphne didn’t want to stay with me alone. She wanted to go with him. Children are sensitive to the emotional atmosphere. I don’t blame her either.)))

Did I ever claim to be mother-material? Nope. I chose adoption for many reasons. One being that I don’t have patience for some children’s behavior. Especially if that child hasn’t had any real parenting.

So, that’s that.

I’m done with trying to be in Daphne’s life. She can come find me when she wants to. But not with him there. It’s not that I’m done with Daphne. I’m done with her father. He’s an asshole. Period.

Advertisements