The Struggle.

Well, #1 left today to go with his Grandma. She's keeping him for the last week, then they're leaving for Traverse City (way up north) on Friday for the wedding on Saturday. I'm ok with it, I think.

For those who wrote telling me that I have my head screwed on straight when it comes to his dad and how I'm handling their relationship, I'll tell you why I have this perspective.

Nigh on 29 years ago... (heh heh...just kidding. Who starts a paragraph like that?!)

I'm adopted. I mean, my mother was my mother, but my dad adopted me. They met when I was like 6 months or so, and married when I was 2. My entire life, I knew I was adopted. There were no secrets, no big shocker there, just the blatant truth. The one thing my mom did do was to try to warn me about my biological father. He stuck around until I was six weeks old, and then, I never saw him again until the day I graduated high school. She tried to warn me. She told me stories about him, she tried to cushion that fall that she knew was inevitable.

Instead of helping me understand who and what he was, it caused me to fantasize about him. Like, for instance when my parents would inadvertantly piss me off (as all parents inevitably do), I would dream of the day when my REAL daddy would come whisk me away to a world filled with DisneyLand and Ice Cream, where parents didn't yell, mommies and daddies didn't drink all the time, and mothers didn't hit or beat their children. That day never came.

The day I graduated high school, he showed up. In tote with him were my younger brother, Joe, my younger sister, Amanda (you all know Amanda...she's dating Hilary) and another little girl, introduced to me as my sister Jennifer. He said that he was sorry my mother kept him from me so long, but that day, he deserved to be my dad more than the guy who's been acting like my dad all these years. It wasn't until that very moment that I understood what my mom had been trying to tell me all of those years.

My dad, the man I know as my daddy, CHOSE to be my father. He didn't have to be. He didn't have to treat me like his own child. He didn't have to deal with my crap for all those years. He didn't have to teach me to golf, to change oil in a car, or any lessons in life. But he did. Because he loved me, and he made the choice to be there. My dad never said a bad word about my biological father. He left it up to me to make those decisions on my own. When I had questions, he always said "Someday Princess, you'll have a choice whether you want to meet him and then you'll have all of those questions answered." He didn't think for me, or do anything to influence my opinion of my biological father.

Since Graduation, I've gotten to know him quite well. I've also gotten to know my siblings. The other sister, Jennifer is the same age as Amanda. Twins? Not exactly. Jen was born in February, and Amanda in July. How is this possible, you ask? He knocked up the BABYSITTER. He hasn't held a job since I've known him for longer than 4 months, he did get in trouble for buying drugs from his own son (said brother, Joe), and everytime he sees me on TV with my work, I get oodles and oodles of messages in my voice mail about how proud he is of me and how he called all his friends to tell them that I'm HIS daughter. Every freakin' time.

I don't have an ounce of respect for him. I can't stand talking to him, he's selfish, he hasn't so much as visited my kids, his first "grandkids" in going on two years, which means he hasn't even met #3, he's childish, and he's arrogant. He's even called to ask me to borrow money. When I talk to him, I do it more out of respect for the biological process of life than anything else. He says "I love you" every time we hang up, and I always respond with "Me too."

My parents didn't have to tell me anything about him. Now I know, and I've formed my own opinion. He's a schmuck. My biological father who did indeed give me life and for that has earned the name "Bio-Dad". I call him this to his face. Everyone got a kick out of it. They thought it was just the wittiest, cutest little thing. For me, everytime I get to allow those words to leave my lips aimed at him, it's my faithful little way of telling him, "I already have a real dad, and it isn't you, you self centered son-of-a-bitch."

So, this is why I feel the way I do for my own son. I've been down this road. This is one that I have some experience with, that I understand, and that I've lived in real-time. Ex is just a newer version of Bio-Dad. #1 HAS a real daddy. He may not understand it now, through all the smiles and fun times he'll have out on the boat with his Bio-dad, or dancing at the reception with his Bio-Dad, or going out on the Quads with his Bio-Dad next weekend. But, when he's old enough to form his opinions, he'll remember that his REAL dad cleaned up those scraped knees, and taught him to ride his bike without training wheels, and taught him about life.

It will be self evident.

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