A Day In the Country

I’m really looking forward to a day off tomorrow with a girlfriend.  I’ve taken a day off work and I’m playing chauffeur; I’m organised.  She is the opposite.  So I have sent her an itinerary that was written with military precision.   No matter what, I will get her to her lecturing gigs on time; and still allow for hours of gossip along the way including a fabulous lunch in Sorrento.

I have had hard days lately.  I’ve taken a fair bit of sick time off but still feel exhausted.  Maybe I’m just emotionally wrung out; I sure as hell feel like it.  Some days I wonder if I’m just looking for an issue in the ‘Squeeze/Me’ relationship.  Some days, I know there is an issue.

We have done it tough this weekend.  Aside from the kid and my music; and discounting the fact that the Squeeze told me he had fixed it after five hours or so; he had not.  Most of my music, what differentiates him and me, was gone.  Sure, Gaga was there; but then again, Miles Davis was also there – and that sure as hell isn’t me.  I know that there are some that think he was the king; I’m just not one of them I’m afraid.

The reality for me was that I felt like I handled it well.  I talked about it with the kid over breakfast.  I told him that the hard drive had going on fifteen years of music and that I had kicked pillows around my bedroom in utter despair at its loss.  I said straight out that there wasn’t one single momentous instant in my life that wasn’t represented with a song on that hard drive.

My problem was not the kid; because I can’t see him slinking in and dragging it off to the spare room anytime soon.  I did mention he would be buried in a shallow grave… under the lilies if he did.  My point is I didn’t have to scream or swear.  I merely had to discuss the problem over breakfast and he didn’t burst into tears.  I’m funny and excuse the self-praise, but I’m clever.  There was no point in screaming or swearing at him.  Discussion, dotted with humour works best.  And he laughed.  I blended laughter and funny with a lesson and rules.  I have no doubt he took it in and this won’t be my problem again. 

But I’m fighting a war of evolution.  These kids were reared with the Harridan who believes that kids should have everything handed to them on a platter, including paying their speeding fines or bills when they get into trouble.  And then there is the Squeeze, who just wants peace at any cost and is so damned fearful of the Harridan, he doesn’t know how to chastise so instead, remains passive as they rape and pillage all that he has.  They expect.  He gives.

My problem was not in handling the kid; it was handling the squeeze.

He has often bemoaned the fact that no matter what he did or what happened, he was never, ever, right when it came to Kid 1.  He was the step dad and let’s face it, he will die in that role.

For myself, also of a step family, I approached it differently…  After all, the person I married and lived with had taken the role of father.  He had taken the financial role of father.  I approached it as I would a real father.  Objection is discussed after the event.  You don’t allow a kid to see a chink in the united front – if you do, it is over.  You remove any power the step parent has. 

Hell; if you want to do it all yourself… If you think you are always going to be right – stay single.

My problem was that the Squeeze who refused to entertain the idea that my music was gone because Kid 3 had dragged my external hard drive into the spare room to plug in to his Mac.  It was coincidence.  It was fairies; gremlins; leprechauns. 

It was not his kid!

Then to add insult to injury, he got up half way through a movie and went out to get a bucket of detol and bicarb for the kid to soak his foot in.  My comment of ‘it hasn’t worked for the last year; maybe it will this time’ went unanswered and I left the room wondering who this person I am living with, is.

When he went to empty the bucket I said “the harridan sent you a message to soak the foot, didn’t she”.  Of course she did.  And even though it is pointless, has been an exercise if utter fruitlessness for one whole year, he did as was told.

This morning, I woke and up and realised that I will never; ever be right.  I will never, ever be supported and it will take 2.7 seconds for his children to smell the blood and play on that.  But worse, he Harridan knows that he will leap on command, even living in a new life with me, she holds his testicles.

Writing that, I figure she may as well; it’s not like they are used for much else lately.