How Many Licks Does it Take....??

Ok - here I sit bawling - I'm supposed to be working, and I have been - with the radio playing country music in the background. There was a PLAIN and simple reason why I gave up Country Music after I separated and then divorced - it just freakin' depresses the HELL out of me!! But my oldest daughter likes it, and some of the stuff today is really good, so lately I've found myself listening to it more and more - BIG MISTAKE.

And now, as I sit here sorting through resumes and making my daily calls to hiring managers and candidates, in my subconscious I hear the words to a song by Gary Allan come pouring out over the air waves. It's a song about a daddy's love for his little girl - I believe it's entitled "Tough Little Boys". It's all about how this grown man is turned all to mush watching his little girl grow and change - and all the inevitable emotional tugs there will be - watching her take her first steps, go off to school, get married, etc....

Which brings me to the cause of my tears. My own little angel lies sleeping in her bed - my GOD she is beautiful - with her golden blonde hair, but dark, dark THICK eyelashes against her porcelain skin. She's just as beautiful when she's awake, because she has eyes of the BLUEST, truest BLUE you've ever seen - not sky blue, and not dark - just brilliant BLUE. Anyway - this song makes me so painfully aware that my baby's father goes about his daily routine without even sparing a thought for her existence, let along her well-being - and certainly she will never hear him say how he watched in with the most thrilling trepidation as she took her first steps, or how he cried like a baby and followed her school bus all the way into town on her first day of school, or how he knows some day he'll have to give her away - he's already done that. He did it the night we made her. He did it the minute he told me he loved me and wanted to live with me forever - with the first lie that came from his lips. It makes me want to pick up the phone and call Mr. Randy Brison (see, I made it almost a whole month before I actually used his name - hence the tootsie pop reference) and tell him what a pathetic person he is - and how I ALMOST feel sorry for him.

She is awake now; I can hear her over the baby monitor - lying in her bed, singing a song that only a two-year-old can compose. She is precious. She holds the world in her tiny little hands - it is hers to hold fast or to throw away. Anything is possible for her - except her father's love. I hate him for that. Fuck him. What a loser - who could do this to their own child?? I don't mind that he changed his mind about wanting me - I'm a big girl, I'll get over it. How will she?

She already has used the word "dad" to mean ANY person of the male persuasion, not knowing that it is supposed to be reserved for the male person who, if he didn't donate the dna to create you at least cares more about you than any other in the world and would die so that you might live. Don't get me wrong - I know there are LOTS of dads who suck - my ex-husband has let my older kids down so many times it is unreal, but at least they KNEW who he was. At least he managed to have a few bright and shining moments - and has wanted to know about them and hug them and tell them he loved them. It's a different kind of pain when they at least KNOW what "dad" is supposed to mean than it is when trying to explain to a child that "dad" isn't just a random word. It is supposed to have purpose and meaning - and a face to see yourself in, and arms to pick you up and hold you, and lips to kiss away your fears/tears/boo-boos.

AAARRRRGGGGHHHH - these are the days when I wonder how stupid I really am. How could I have thought it would be fair to her to bring her into this world and to keep her myself??? And yet - anything else would just not have been an option for me. Which is the bottom line - she is for me. I wanted her. I needed her. Far more than she will ever need me - I hope that doesn't become a weight around her neck. I will have to work very hard to let her be her and to live her life without worrying who's going to be there for Mom.

Like I said - I'm a big girl, I can take it. I just wish my little girl had a daddy - HER daddy - and in a moment of true weakness - I wish he had her, too because he's the one who's really missing out.... osm