Tag: grandfather

Step-Grandchildren

September 9th, 2018

This is going to sound really evil, but … well, it’s just going to sound evil.

My wife had children young, so naturally, her children have children so she’s a grandmother. Relatively young, but that’s the pattern of fuckery. My children are younger by a few years but it could happen to me any day now. I think my children are a little smarter and less ghetto, though. 

So, since my wife and I been married, almost every year there is some ghetto trash drama with her kids that they need to stay with us for a short amount of time. It’s short because I end up kicking them out because either they end up getting arrested, or we need to bail someone out, or they get some girl pregnant or their in and out of the house running in the streets.

Naturally, I don’t take to that shit and end up kicking them all out in one way or another. So I’m the bad guy of the family because they’re shit from the streets and I’m not. Fuck them if they try to bring hot mess to my home. They can get the fuck out.

Yeah, it puts a strain on my marriage but I’m successful at bringing my wife above the ghetto — if not financial — line. How we live is a stark difference than how she used to live. Not financially better but morally and just common sense better. I don’t surround myself with drama. As you know, I don’t surround myself with people so it balances out.

Anyway, her grandkids are staying with us now. It won’t be for much longer though.

The scenario is like this: 

My wife has a daughter. She has three daughters. Ages range from 7, 10 and 15 or something.

The fifteen-year-old is an evil bitch. I may type a lot of shit in my journal but I can be a way nicer person than that bitch in my sleep. She and her siblings came over in the early part of summer to visit and she was just into everything, acting the ripe bitch she was. Even tried to hack my computer when I locked it. Bitch failed, of course, but at the time, I was happy it was just a visit and they were leaving in a few days.

So, mid-way through summer, come to find out the fifteen-year-old has some sort of cancer. And it’s serious. Literally, they left here from a visit, went to a doctors appointment and they found something on her lungs. Just like that. She seemed fine when she was here. Just a common bitch that I wished would die.

Next thing you know, she’s likely REALLY going to die and, well, I still think she’s an evil bitch. Good fucking riddance.

So, anyway, the mother has to go to the hospital every day to be with her…thus leaving the other two at home with no one watching them. She has no support system to watch the girls. My wife tried to get her second daughter to be proactive but she’s the high-exalted ghetto tramp of the year and couldn’t be trusted to simply pick the girls up from school. So that fell apart.

So, the idea sprung up that the girls stay with us while their mother goes through all the cancer-bitch treatments. From when I last heard, her chemo isn’t working.

The 7 and 10-year-old aren’t half as bad as their dying sister, but they are the symptom of the cancer-bitch’s bullying. The 15-year-old tormented the other two and just said and did bad things….making the other two reactionaries of a bad life.

The ten-year-old is fatter than my wife! 250+ pounds!!!

You read that right. A fat fuck that was given free reign to eat anything she wants because her mother, also fat, just gave up.

Nothing is worse than listening to a fat fuck ten-year-old complain about being hungry. NOTHING. Fat ass shit can’t possibly be hungry when she weighs almost TWO of me! Vile, nasty fat fuck.

The 7-year old gained weight from the time she first visited to now and she’s just mouthy and won’t listen. I spent most of my time threatening to slap the shit out of her than I’m used to speaking to kids her age. With my children, I’ve never had to be this cruel to get them in line.

They’ve been with us for over a month now and, the upside, we’ve gotten the fat one to lose over 7 pounds since she’s started staying here.

The little seven-year-old is a slick, sneaky bitch that can be fixed to get in line, but I’m telling you … I hate all of this.

I told my wife that I hate being this babysitter for kids that aren’t mine, that doesn’t really want to be here and is eating us out of house and home.

Now, I’ve been looking for work STILL….bothers the fuck out of me … so having these kids and my wife the only one working has been hard.

Well, last night, she made the decision that we’re sending the grandkids home.

Part of me is relieved. I do not want them here.

Another part of me is … well, let’s face it: relieved. I do not want them here.

I mean, I got a little weepy the other day that this might be my chance to be a father full time. Something I don’t mind being ……. TO MY OWN KIDS.

But when you have Fat and Stimpy ignoring your instructions, sneaking food in the middle of the night, crying for their mother…

OH! And let me tell you another thing. We’re struggling to get them into school because we don’t have legal guardianship. We tried, but it costs a lot of money and a lot of paperwork and this whole thing became an enormous hassle.

So, my wife said we’re sending them back.

I was FUCKING relieved.

You see, my wife and I fit a comfortable living where no drama, no extra people and, once I’m working, can live quite nicely.

We do NOT have the living or financial space for others. Maybe to visit, like my daughter does on weekends. Maybe a summer, like my other kids do annually. But to live and stay is not happening.

Honestly, even I can’t take my own kids for the length of a summer.

Look, I love my children. I really do. We just haven’t had the pleasure of living together and I designed my life around ‘visits’ not staying. 

Any day now, one of my kids could have an issue like my wife’s children and they might want to stay with me.

Well, for one thing, my children will are just better people and trained better so the circumstances wouldn’t be the same…but space is space and extra people taking it up just doesn’t work. We’d need a bigger place.

I need a satisfying and paying job.

Do I think this experience with my step-grandkids created a rift between my wife and I? Probably. I’m sure she wished I was working so we can afford these kids.

But even if I had an excellent paying job, I don’t see myself as wanting to raise someone else’s children. Her daughter needs to let the fifteen-year-old die and take her fucking brats. She’s taking up vital resources.

How evil is that?

Which reminds me. One of these days, I’ll have to discuss my experience with attempting to use ‘sigil magic’. Yep…where did that come from? It may have relevance here because a few unexplained NEGATIVE things happened since I used it — to my wife specifically. I’m speculating here, but it was a set of uncanny events that forced me to stop using sigil magic that caused things to happen to my wife and I’m thinking it also translated to the fifteen-year-old and her cancer situation.

Look, I’m not saying I totally believe the use of sigil magic, but I am 100% aware of the negativity that happened when I did. Not toward me, either. Once I stopped, the negativity ended. How that explains the fifteen-year-old, I can’t say. Just that she was the only truly offensive one to come into my space since I stopped and she now has cancer while the other two don’t.

May have totally nothing to do with me.

But you don’t know what my wife went through when I was using the stuff.

Makes you wonder what my wife was up to that drew that negativity her way.

I’ll devote a journal entry to it next time. I didn’t say much about the results because nothing really happened FOR me directly.

Strange shit. Next time.

Legacy

June 15th, 2018

I should be sleeping but I’m annoyed.

My mother. I don’t talk about her much here. She’s still living in New York and we just recently became friendly. She’s of the type and age that to be friends with, you either have to say nothing to her or keep your conversations brief. 

In the past, we’ve been contentious with each other. Never agreed on anything and she never really believed I was adult enough on decisions or the ability to do things. Seemed it shocked her that I wrote a book.

Lately, as long as it’s hi and goodbye from texting, we’ve been good. When I started school, I didn’t tell her. I revealed my ambitions only after I started getting awards. You see, if I told her I was going back to school I wasn’t going to get anything encouraging. She’s the type that encourages only after evidence of success. Now, if you waited only for your child to succeed at things before you believed in them, well, that would be a problem.

She would bring up things in the past that I gave up on. True … I started and stopped things in her mind, like, when I was between 5 years old and age 16. I don’t think my track record with finishing projects is any worse than anyone else. I know I had trouble executing things…but always tried. Honestly, I have a lot more successfully finished things than I tell her because she just doesn’t deserve to know. If you weren’t with me when I started…

Anyway, she’s selling the family house. A place in Jamaica Queens that was first bought by my grandparents, her parents, back in the 40′s. She grew up in that house. When my grandmother died, she took over and it rotted from the inside. She sent m,e pictures recently and I couldn’t believe the way she let it fall apart. I’ll post pictures later. It was horrible.

So, she’s selling it as is. The last I spoke to her about the whole selling process was she was going to sell it, living in a small apartment and then move to Vermont to retire. I don’t even think that plan is happening because I don’t think she got the money she wanted for the place. She’s not telling me but there are holes in what she tells me that make me feel her plans aren’t happening as she would like and now she’s out of what was the family house. The place that was supposed to be passed down.

I didn’t agree to her plan of selling the place but I didn’t tell her that. With my mother, you can’t discuss things with her because she only listens to whom she deems ‘smart’. In her mind, I’m not one of them.

Her only son, by the way.

She’s the originator of those in my life that don’t listen to my advice, but more than willing to hear the SAME advise from someone else who either has money or whomever she believes in. I’m very sensitive to people like that in my life. Very resentful of people that do that to me. Discounting what I have to say in favor of same or BAD advice from others. My ex did that a lot.

So, I had to watch the sale of this place happen before my eyes. And it gets worse. She only moved five houses down to someone basement apartment and she’s giving away a lot of the furniture and paintings that were in our family …well, since the 40′s. Stuff that was legacy of our family. Things that mattered to me. In that house, I wrote my greatest stories. Had many of my first experiences.

All gone. Without even asking me what I thought or should do.

So, I should be sleeping but I want to cry. I want to yell. I want to blow up on my mother for, yet again, not listening.

The question is: did I speak?

The answer is no.

I did not.

I did not question her judgment. I did not ask her questions to challenge her decisions. I did not ask her to save anything for me because I love and miss my grandparents. Why?

Because I sacrificed the legacy for the comfortable relationship with my mother we’ve had this past year. We were not fighting. We were not angry. She genuinely cared about my academic success and I finally got my mother to love me for my accomplishments.

That’s no way to live. To only speak to your family ‘in a certain way’ in order to have a relationship with them. When it’s time to speak to them openly, you can’t. I missed an opportunity to salvage my grandparent’s things. I regret that.

You see what this journal is all about. It isn’t just about me making a highly probable shot at going to law school. It’s the regeneration of a once deflated, depressed man making global changes in his life by being aware of his failings and what needs to be changed. In order to get there, the raw unfiltered ‘who I am’ needs to be revealed, addressed and reshaped. Most of all, documented.

The documentation is for me to purge my thoughts. A therapeutic move.

But mostly for you. Someone who might be trying to dig your way out of a hole of depression and your life needs changes. Maybe even suicidal as I have been, and want to see if I can make it, so can you. Change is possible. 

I am not the same man that started this journal last year. Lord knows I am not the same man from years ago. With academia and learning the guitar (by the way, I also started ‘Fender Play’ to practice with intentions of getting ‘in class’ tutorials in a few weeks. The guitar is going to arrive next Tuesday), archery coming back again and joining this tech frat, “who am I” is a fair question. Certainly not last years guy.

That said, what did I learn from this experience with my mother?

I need to save my family home. I’m told it’s sold already. Right now is a good time to win the lottery. I’m playing first thing I can today.

Aside from that, I keep doing what I always have been doing with my life and my children. For me, making greater strives to be a better man. For them, talking to them honestly and letting them speak to me openly. No judgments. I save everything they make or give me. I have stuff they made for me since they were babies. A form of legacy items. I’m saving things of my own I will pass down to them. 

The guitar will be one of many guitars I think I’m going to buy. The bow is another. Then there are the comic books, figurines, collectibles, etc, etc. LOL.

Working on actual ‘money’.

I need a family home of my own. 

Some place they can come to and know they can get a fresh start, or recharge. A place they can always go to as comfort.

As of right now, I do not have that. My family home safety net is gone.

I will have a home that will be our family legacy. 

You can guarantee that.