Visiting With my Demons

15 Jun
Most of today has gone splendidly. I did, however, do something that I needed to do, yet hadn’t done for a long time. I visited with my demons.

Specifically one demon named “Sperm donor”.

Let me explain – if you’ve never read before, I have three half-brothers. Two are twins and one is not (I can never figure out how to say that perfectly). All three are younger than I am. One of my brothers (one of the twins) graduated from college this summer. He and I have been chatting on and off since he began college. The other day he logged on specifically to ask me to attend his graduation party. I was at once delighted and apprehensive: the party was at the sperm donor’s house.

My brother (we’ll call him Brother 1) said that he’d spoken to Sperm Donor and that he was fine with me going to the party. Part of me wanted to go, and the other part of me wanted to curl up in a ball on the couch and stay there all day.

I knew, however, that I had to go, and so, after seeing Kung Fu Panda (Awesome movie, BTW), we headed up. Sure enough, everyone from the Sperm Donor’s side of the family was there, or just about everyone. They were all glad to see the kids and began chatting. What surprised me the most, however, was that Sperm Donor made a concerted effort to come over and welcome us. He shook Scott’s hand and gave me a hesitant hug.

The kids ate, I chatted with some relatives and caught up with everyone, and then all hell broke loose. Toad got whacked right in the right eye with a whiffle ball. One of my cousin’s sons is a major athlete. He’s a year older than Toad and really whacked the ball – it went almost horizontal accidentally and whacked him really, REALLY good in the eye. He immediately started screaming, covering his eye, and running towards us. By the way he was screaming, I was sure that he’d open his hand and his eye would be hanging by a tendon. Fortunately for all of us, his eye was still attached (whew). We got an ice pack on it and got him calmed down (cake works wonders for that).

After he was eating his cake, the Sperm Donor asked if I wanted to see the house – I’d mentioned earlier that I hadn’t seen his house yet. I said that I would like to see it and he showed me around. He looked at me after the short tour and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“I don’t think so. I want to be a grandfather to those kids. I want them to know that I’m their grandfather – they don’t even know that!”

“No, they don’t.”

I wanted to be the one to take them to the fishing derby – I could’ve taken them at 5:30 am and you guys could’ve slept in. I know you have a problem with me, but I want to be their grandfather. You can ask anyone, I’ve been saying it all night, and you can ask StepMom, I’ve been saying it for a long time. That time I came down to your house, right after you bought it, I was waiting for you to call me Grampa, but you never did.”

“Because you have to earn it. You don’t just get to be grampa because you want to be. I had to earn being ‘mom’, you have to earn being grampa. If you want to be involved in their lives, call, visit, do things with them.” I replied.

Now there are two parts of me on this. One part – the smart-headed Randi part – wonders exactly how drunk/high he was at the time he made this impassioned plea. That Randi knows that the only person that the Sperm Donor truly cares about is himself. Then there’s the other part – the more emotional Randi – who feels differently. Now, granted, this Randi is a lot tougher about this specific subject than she was 8 or 9 years ago, but there is still a small Randi who wants to believe her father. She wants him to be in her life, and in her children’s lives, and to love her.

Can we shut that Randi up?

But even those who are drunk and possibly high can make a strange bit of sense. As we were walking out of the house I remarked that StepMom had lost quite a bit of weight.

“Yeah, and she gained some back too.” he said.

“Well look at me – trust me, I’m really one to talk about losing weight.”

“Look at me,” he said as he patted his beer belly gut, “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. I like me for who I am. Do you?”

Even morons can have moments of enlightenment.

As for Toad’s eye, he’s got a small cut on the upper part of the eyelid and the entire area around his eye is red. The inside of his eye is a bit bloodshot as well – what worried me the most was that he kept saying he was dizzy, and wouldn’t you know it, the Pediatrician who is on call is one that I can’t STAND. I did, however, call the ER and spoke with a nurse, who said that as long as the dizziness went away, he SHOULD be fine. Her guess is that he scratched his cornea, causing the bleeding, and said that they didn’t do anything for that anyway. He has now said that the dizziness is gone.

He’s also saying, however, that he “just can’t get to sleep.” Kids will do anything to avoid bedtime, won’t they?

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