Recently, we had some friends over for cake and ice cream so we could celebrate my oldest daughter’s birthday. We make these get-togethers a fairly simple affair; I try to serve lots of yummy appetizers and top it off with The Birthday Song and dessert. Although we’ve only done this a four or five times in the last couple of years, I always enjoy the opportunity to entertain, have an adult conversation with more than one person at a time, and not worry about a sitter because all of the kids are playing around the house and having their own fun.
Long story short, my bestest friend K pointed out that that particular evening, the control/perfectionist issue was obvious. I was oblivious to it… Basically, it came down to “how we were going to cut the cake”. I won’t go into details, but basically I said to myself, “Screw this!” and went ahead and did what I needed to do… There was cake and people love cake. Just cut the damn thing so we can EAT!!! LOL.
After that, I began to notice how S has to be right or make a clarification for almost everything that we discuss. Not that this has happened, I can imagine that the conversation would go like this:
M – I just cleaned the bathrooms and made sure that there was extra toilet paper for the guests.
S – Which way did you roll it?
M – What do you mean by “Which way did I roll it?”
S – Well, if you roll it with the paper coming out from underneath, then it makes it harder to wrap around.
M – (Sighs to herself… Whatever!)
S does tend to become the expert on all things, big and small. Just figuring this out makes me feel as if he’s wobbling on the pedestal that I placed him on years ago. My fault, not his.
It is true… A dad is important in influencing how daughters feel about themselves and how they interact with the opposite sex. My mom was a senior in high school when she met my dad. He was a saxophone player in a band and she was crazy about him. Young and naïve, or maybe he was older and sneaky, they eloped and married. I was born about a year later. The only thing I remember about the man that broke my mother’s heart was visiting him in Huntsville, Texas. Eventually, I found out that he was a heroin addict and was in prison for burglary. I guess you’ll do what you have to do if you’re an addict…
There were also a few occasions where he’s pop into town, call mom, and ask if he could come and visit me. I only know about the couple of times that he never showed up. Eventually, she would say "sure" but not tell me that he had called, knowing that he’d bail out.
My stepfather was no better… He was an alcoholic and abused our family in more ways that most “normal” people could imagine. Again, I saw that mom put up with a man, and I use that term loosely, that would almost beat her within an inch of her life and attempt to take my brother as a bonus. So much for having a daddy…
Needless to say, I figured out in college that I needed help and was very successful in my PTSD recovery. To this day, I feel that things happened the way they did as a reminder of how grateful we must be for love and friendship, and that with hard work and determination, anyone can overcome anything.
I’ve often wondered how my past has affected the decisions I’ve made as an adult. Hopefully, I can explain this and it will make sense. S is symbolic of security, stability, and safety. Here’s the tricky part. If they are lucky, women will become comfortable with their sexuality BEFORE they get married. Read: That DOES NOT mean having pre-marital sex. Having knowledge of how the psyche works, especially in those people whose normal development has been “stunted” due to traumatic events in their past, I am in a totally different place than I was when I married seven years ago.
Don’t get me wrong, I seem to think that my husband is attractive. He is very charming when he flirts and I have no doubt that he could make the average woman swoon. (I’m not implying that he’s doing that now!!)
I feel as I’ve gone from insecure little girl to a woman with some clues about life… But, I’m still trying to figure out why S no longer “fits the bill”, so to speak, other than the fact that he has become distant.
The other night, I thought about smothering him with his Temperpedic pillow in his sleep. Since this past January, I have gone from 128 to my current 112 pounds. (I’m only 5’1”; some people might argue that the 1” is an exaggeration.) Although I consider myself a little jiggly in all the wrong places, what woman doesn’t, I though I looked like a hot mom. Anyway, I had found a bargain, a very cute but simple little lacy thing to wear to bed, black. Cute! (Not in a “Hey, look at that cute puppy!” but really in a sexy kinda way.)
S – Did you just buy that?
M – Why, yes I did… You like??
S – (Rolls over and goes to sleep.)
The preceding account is NOT a fictitious happening. I’m still shaking my head on that one. Why? Not because I was disappointed, but mostly because I WASN'T. Makes no sense to me. I'm sure someone out there will read this and shed some light...