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So I've determined not to be so damn pathetic anymore. All two of you who read this stuff are probably pretty sick of it.
Keris' third birthday party went pretty well -- she made her own guest list and it was rather too long, but I went with it, baked and decorated two Pikachu cakes, cleaned under the sofas, blew up balloons, bought pizza, and endured 7 kids and at least one parent apiece in my house. Ugh. Keris was thrilled that all her friends came to her house (I'm afraid no one ever does), and I was gratified that some of the children seemed to recognize Pikachu's visage on the birthday cakes. Those 2-D design classes in college finally paid off;) Too bad I never actually learned how to bake.
Am very proud of myself for having an "A" average in a MATH CLASS right now (capital letters are meant to convey the miraculous nature of this event) though I think my endless homework is driving Keris to too much television. Well, that and I'm a pushover now that the weather is so crappy here and it's dark by 4:30 p.m. You can only paint so many pictures and make so many Play-Doh animals, is my excuse, even though I despise myself for it. I caught myself trying to explain to her that all this homework will help Mommy get a better job when we go back to the States, but I'm not sure what she could possibly think that means within her own sphere of context.
It hit me like a ton of bricks the other day that the time is coming when I am going to have to tell Keris something about her father. She is perfectly aware that she doesn't have one, and that other kids do, but then she'll make me feel a little better by saying, "Mama, Rocko doesn't have a Mommy, but I have a Mommy and an Uncle Rob." (Yes, she has her own Rocko's Modern Life video. Picked it out herself. No idea why.) Lying about the situation is very tempting, but unforgiveable. I really have no idea what I'm going to do. This is unusual for me, because generally I don't have a lot of HUGE guilt feelings about the state of our life, at least in its fatherless-ness. I can be blamed for bad judgement and shitty taste in men, but I can't be blamed for hanging on to some pipe dream of domestic civility and tying us to some spoiled alcoholic cretin on a power trip. So sue me. I'm doing the best I can. I just don't know how I'm going to portray all this to my daughter. As you can see, I don't have a lot to share with her about her father.
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