It's 5am on Christmas morning, I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours now and I have not one, not two, but three Christmases to deal with today. (Mike's family, my family, and then the three of us.) I've been cleaning and baking for hours and I am so tired. Here's to hoping that Mike is willing to drive my car at least part of the way. Mommy needs a nap.
I can't believe how quickly this year has flown by. The fact that my daughter is only a few weeks from being a year old is just unreal to me. I've had a lot on my mind lately, and though I've been writing about my life as a new mom over at my mommy blog
, there are some things I can't talk about there because my family reads it and I don't feel like dealing with hurt feelings. I have no idea if this topic will end up there, as I'm unsure as to how my family will receive it, but I need to get it out, so here goes.
Riley will be eleven months old tomorrow. In the last eleven months, I have watched her grow from this tiny, helpless little newborn into this little person with her own personality, her own feelings, and a big attitude to go along with it. I'm with her almost 24/7, which can be rough sometimes - okay, most of the time - but being a parent is the most rewarding thing that I have ever done. And for some reason, this time of year always makes me think about my biological father, and it pains me to think that he got to miss out on everything
with me that I have gotten to witness with my own daughter. Not only that, but he's missing out on being a grandfather to the best kid ever.
It makes me sad. It shouldn't, because he should have never been an issue for me to begin with. He's never really been a father to me, just some guy who knocked up my mom and ran off when he got bored. I think maybe the problem is that he was never really
completely out of my life. Sure, he's never been there for me and he can't even acknowledge that I'm his daughter, but his dad is still my grandfather, who I grew up with and have loved and respected and looked up to as long as I've known him. Unfortunately, my mom's family and my dad's family are too connected for me to completely be disassociated with my father, which is probably why I think about him so frequently.
He's missed out on so much. He missed out on everything I did growing up and now he's missing out on his granddaughter. I wish, more than anything, that he could just apologize and try to make up for all the hurt he's caused me. That's what I want for Christmas this year. An apology. An acknowledgement of my existence. An admittance that what he did, how he's treated me, was wrong. Something. Anything. It shouldn't be important to me and I don't want it to be important to me, but it is and it makes me upset because I can't do a goddamn thing about it.
I'd love to write him a letter on Facebook and just try to open up the lines of communication, but I know it won't happen. I tried that six years ago and my words fell on deaf ears. I have to learn to accept it. You'd think that after twenty-plus years of rejection, I'd get the hint by now.
I always forget about this damn thing.