Because of my colonoscopy on Monday I was away from the kids for an extra night while I did my prep. Actually, I wasn’t, Stanley and I swapped on Friday so I was with them the normal amount of time but we swapped Friday night for Sunday night. Instead of going back after his weekend, I didn’t see them until after my procedure on Monday. When they came in after school the older two were fine but Merlot was a mess.
A greasy, dirty, tired urchin, sort of mess.
I cannot seem to impress upon Stanley OR Merlot that she needs to shower while in his care. I was embarrassed that she had been to school like that and worried that her teachers think she is unloved. I’ve talked to them both separately, together, in a boat, in a moat, in the rain, on a train, here and there and everywhere. You get it.
I hate the fact that things with the kids are lax when Stanley is on. Homework is shady, forms aren’t sent back to school, and hygiene goes out the window.
I hate it, hate it, hate it.
Normally after his weekends I come back in on Sunday night in time to get them sorted out to start the school week fresh on Monday morning.
He doesn’t parent up to my standards, but does he do good enough?
My friend Andrea is the God Mother to a child who’s mother died 2 years ago in September. I blogged about it here. She has spent countless hours with the now 14 year-old girl trying to fill some very big shoes. This was an intact family with an only child. My friend takes her to buy clothes, attends school meetings, has her several times per week and often on the weekends, entertains her with her friends, drives her all over town, and basically steps in anytime an adult female is needed. The dad is present, but unemotional and clueless in the ways of teenage girls.
She is doing a great job. Occasionally she calls me and asks, “Would you let Jumping Bean do this?” And I say, “Hell no!” and she says, “I didn’t think so, Bye.”
She told me after the death about a conversation she had with her friend before she died. She said that they were talking about the little girl and the dying mother was tearful saying that she couldn’t die and leave her daughter because she needed her too much and that no one could take care of her like she could. Andrea said, “You’re right, we can’t do it like you would. It probably won’t be exactly like you would, but we will do it good enough.”
I think they are doing much better with her than just good enough.
I guess with all kids, sometimes good enough has to be good enough.