Kids Run A House

It's always that way, usually. With a divorced dad who is having trouble moving on, an eight year old daddy's girl definitely rules the roost. So I get home and there are the kids. Sick kids, no less. Coughing hard and sniffling. It's been an hour and a half and the little one is whining hungry and refusing anything in the fridge and pouting, major passive aggression going on. Big brother offered marshmallows and she said no to that. I offered chicken and several other things, she ignored me at first (I'm not daddy, I'm in the way) and then said no to everything. It's all about daddy for her.

I get it, but it's exactly why I didn't want kids or smokers. Did I mention he smokes? Outside, but it does still seep in. Especially in a closed space like a car. So anyway, I don't start dinner and don't do any unpacking and moving in takes longer. Still not really sharing the kitchen, no cabinet space, one shelf in the pantry, so kitchen boxes sit and wait. It is awkward walking to the bathroom, laundry, or garage and bumping into them, Especially with daddy not here. (Wah, Wah, Wah. Into the abyss.

TA can't do anything but give her attention when she's here. She won't go to bed without him and she sleeps in his bed, so he is in bed before 9, usually earlier. They wake up before the sun. I think she's just ornery scared abandoned resistant at the moment because her parents are not here and it's apparently a surprise to all of us. TA's ex seems to control him and his life with the kids. If you're reading, TA, I am trying to be kind. I just don't feel at home here yet so I'm venting. Wrting it helps me cope and resolve frustration and find solutions. I don't think the solution is look for another pace, yet, but I really don't like not moving in because there's not kitchen cabinet space for me and I haven't hooked up the CBS I pay for yet. Little things, ut I didn't want to live in someone else's house. That's why I held out for so long.

Disjointed thoughts...

I know I could be a lot more parental and empathic and understanding and giving, but I've done that my entire life and it's left me unable to retire, without a relationship, and unable to live comfortably by myself. I must stop giving myself away the way I've done all these years if I am to survive and not be indigent when I can not longer work. I guess I've got to get used to no notice when the kids will be coming and living with kids. I said no to kids and smokers for two years. I didn't know he smoked or that the kids would be here so much when I moved in.

Anyway, I tried to help with dinner, but I'm not daddy and she only wants 100% daddy. She doesn't want to share daddy either, which makes it her house when she's here. Meanwhile, I am trying to set a hard boundary because I can't afford to adopt and take responsibility for another dysfunctional family. I also need some me time. I imagine it's quite disturbing to be dropped off in your old house with your big brother without either parent around. Then, to be hungry and have no dinner as the evening rolls on, but wanting to be hungry and needy when daddy gets home, so refusing any solutions offered. Not to mention to have the new man walking up to your bedroom door a few times because that's where his bathroom, the laundry room, and the garage is located.

Not exactly comfortable for the man either, since blanket oppositional whininess is the attitude. Tough to be the enemy at home. So a lot more emotional challenges here, but more space, sort of. At least the illusion of more space. Poor kid, to be sick on top of that (nasty cough and no instinct to cover her mouth), ok, find a distraction and don't judge the parents. Letting kids rule their lives is what parents do, especially in a divorce.

Boundaries.

I slow down on a lot on unpacking when they are here. It's their home. They've been here more than not since I move in and I really would like to actually move in. Still no kitchen cabinet space, still don't have my TV and computer (CBS All Access) hooked up. I'm living in their house, which is what I tried so hard not to do for two years. It was not supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be sharing the space.

I'm getting grumpy hungry too. I could put on the TV, make myself dinner, and just pretend they aren't here, but I offered food and what is in the fridge was not what she wanted, so am just sitting quietly now with a cat who's farted four times on the arm of my recliner. We should not be laughing, right? The cat probably wants dinner too. The cat seems to see me as protection when the kids are here.

More space, sort of, but not a lot of space for me. A lot more emotional energy making it more challenging to relax. In many ways, less privacy. TA won't move his stuff so I can move in, so boxes sit in the kitchen and living room waiting for space. I'm resisting putting them in the garage because the point of moving in here was to live here. If I can't unpack in a 2000 square foot space, I might as well look for a smaller space I can unpack in and call home.

Patience.

Narf.