Happy Fricking Father’s Day

I can be as hard as nails when I need to.  This would usually be centred on some form of lesson that I’m attempting to teach a kid.  My parents would say “this will hurt me more than it hurts you”, which is an outright lie; still, it is damned difficult to stick to your guns at times. 

I try to remind myself of the consequence of not following through.  For example, when the Squeeze said he would be paying some of the Harridan’s demands for cash, but paused to point out that he would send it with an email stating that these things should come out of maintenance – and that he would not be paying any more in future.

He was somewhat narky when I replied “So what you mean is, unlike the last time you told her “this is it.  Make it work.  I have no more…  This time you ‘really’ mean it..?  Yes, I can see that will work.”

And yes, that was sarcasm, but hell, you’d have to be stupid not to see that false threats mean zip.  She’ll get some cash in her pudgy hands and within a fortnight, will be demanding more.

Of course my rant this morning is actually not about her, at least not directly.  I mean we all know that I think she is a money grubbing waste of space.  Today, my rant is firmly placed on the heads of those ingrates he raised/bred – Kid 1, 2 and 3.

Sunday morning was Father’s Day.  Suspecting that those ungrateful retches of kids would once again, not be forthcoming with a gift or card, I made sure I had at least sent a card to the Squeeze; granted, it’s not the same, but it’s better than nothing.

We were having lunch at his mother’s and dragged Kid 3 with us since it was our weekend on.  Kid 2 would come, but for that pleasure, we had to drive to the other side of town to pick him up (where I shuddered with the home decoration sight laid out before me; at least ten of the Squeeze’s album covers stuck to the wall) then back again to drop him off after wards.  Kid 1 was in QLD.

So we do a circuit of the city picking up and dropping off and no present is whipped out of a bag or pocket…  No card… Zip. 

I struggled to contain my mounting anger, but quelled it by sending off an email via iPhone to myself and the Squeeze to state that the Harridan could burn in hell before I would allow the Squeeze to hand over one cent for a gift for her from this day forward.  Once again, she proves herself to be a selfish cow.

As for the kids; I did manage to relate a story to Kid 3 regarding my kids when they turned in a selfish year; he was shocked when I said I went to Sydney that Christmas and didn’t even purchase them a gift.  Sorry, but you are adults.  If Mother’s Day and my Birthday mean nothing, then you can rest assured, neither does your Christmas.

They weren’t happy, but they never missed at least sending me a card after that.  Perhaps this is something that the Squeeze could try, because they all have their hand out whenever possible and every so often you’ve got to send the message back to say “hey!!!  I count!”

Have to say, my respect level for them slipped a notch or two, because he is a great dad and I bet you the house, the car and the holiday, they didn't miss the Harridan's.