how i place

Their conversations are absurd and heartbreaking. What 12-year old is supposed to feel that her mother loves medicine more than she loves her daughter? The lies are atrocious. The fact that this child now sees those lies and is able to point at them is tragic. I keep my mouth shut all the time. All the time, all the time. It's hard to do that. I have so much I want to say, but I try so hard not to influence her, not to brainwash her the way the she was brainwashed before. I keep so much to myself, until she's in bed. Then poor Shawn is subject to my wrath by proxy.

I am lucky, and she is lucky.

This morning she had an argument with Shawn about whether or not she'd unloaded the dishwasher in time to earn a full allowance this week. As they bickered, I was awash with memories of trying to ask things when I was a child, trying to question, and suffering the consequences of daring to do that. My parents were never ever wrong about anything. I know it's generational, I understand that. But when I hear him admit to her that he's unsure of what to do, or that he made a mistake, I find myself falling in love with him again, Daddy and husband, seeing how differently he raises this child, the one he didn't create and now burdens the financial cost of, the emotional cost of, the time, the and energy to raise her properly. To give her everything we both missed out on. None of us claims to be perfect, but I'm proud of him, I'm proud of us. And I'm proud of her, for surviving it all and coming out with that beautiful optimism intact.




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