Becoming "Daddy."

A number of you have expressed irritation that I keep prodding Levi to fight for his custody rights and to not let the Palin family cut him out of his son's life. 

And I have a message for all of you. Fuck off!

 If you don't like what I write on this blog then let me draw you a map of the internet so that you can find your way to a blog that you can agree with every time.  This will never be that place.

When it comes to Levi I hear the same thing from the critics among you.

He is too young.

He is uneducated.

He is outmatched by the Palins.

It might be best for him to just let it go.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, and BULLSHIT!

Let me tell you a little story.

I am the product of a teenage pregnancy.  I was born when my mother was fifteen years old. Yes you heard that right, FIFTEEN years old!

My dad was four years older than my mother and he ran for the hills just as soon as he finished giving my mother two more mouths to feed. But hey, who needs a male role model?  That was what TV westerns were for!

My mom had NO idea how to be a good mother.  For God's sake the woman once  forgot all about us and left my brother, sister, and I alone at the matinee that she had dropped us of at for an entire hour after the double feature was already over!  The only reason that we were not kidnapped and sold into slave labor was that I was such a horrible little shit that nobody in their right mind would come anywhere near us.

My mother finally came to get us all apologetic, telling us that she had been drinking sleeping and lost track of the time. I love my mother so I forgave her, and maybe this will be he year that I don't bring the incident up at Christmas to embarrass her in front of the rest of the family.

My mom was far from perfect, but we always knew that she loved us, and when we needed her she was always there. (No not after a movie let out, but you know the other times.)

Before my daughter was born I was a a little on the wild side.  I stayed up all night, got into fist fights, drank until I was sick, and had more crazy hot monkey sex than Hugh Hefner in his prime sitting in a bathtub full of Viagra. (That last part has really nothing to do with this post, I just wanted to brag a little.)

When my daughter arrived I was 27 years old and had been coaching kids for a number of years, so I just KNEW I was prepared to be a dad.

My first thought at seeing that little angelic bundle of joy looking up at me was "Oh my god!  I can't DO this!  I am completely unfit to care for this tiny, fragile creature!  I need to immediately find an appropriate foster placement for her so that she can be raised by people who know what they are doing!"

However my wife at the time was completely unreasonable and would not just let me drop her off at the animal shelter or something, so we brought her home with us. 

My first instincts were right, I sucked!  I made all kinds of stupid mistakes.

I accidentally let her eat a half a jar of Vaseline, which did not poison her but made her poop come out at 110 miles an hour, and ended up going through diapers so fast that I eventually just tied a Hefty garbage bag to her ass until the lubricant had worked its way through her system.

I let her almost choke to death on a melon ball which I could not dislodge even though I had taken CPR five times but which  my mother, who had NO training whatsoever AND left little kids to die at the movie theater, was easily able to dislodge by turning her upside down and doing EVERYTHING wrong.

Oh, and I also took her to her first day of kindergarten dressed like this:


I am not sure which one of us the other parents felt the most sorry for.

How this child still managed to love me and want to spend time with me is a complete mystery.

You see I had no idea what I was doing, but it was okay because I was not alone.  She was always right there with me.

For every one thing I taught her, she taught me ten. And slowly I learned how to be her dad.

And if I can do it, so can Levi.

So what if he is uneducated, or immature, or over his head.  Hell, who wasn't?

The most important thing he has to be, is consistent.  He has to be there when Tripp needs him, to try even if he might fail, and to show that he will never leave. Not ever!

Great parents are not born, they are made.  And they are made by the children who need them to be great.

Just the other day my daughter brought her friend over to my office and told me I had to "do that daddy thing you do."  I had no idea what my daughter wanted so I told her friend to "get a job, stop leaving all of the lights in the house on,' and asked whether or not she "thought I was made of money!" Apparently that was not what my angel had in mind so she told me to "Try again."  This time I looked into her tear streaked eyes and said "Everything will be alright, remember you can do anything you want if you just set your mind to it, and the people who truly love you will stand by your side you no matter what."  And then I hugged her.

As they left my daughter beamed her big beautiful smile in my direction, put her arm around her friend, and said "See I told you my Daddy was the best!"

If  indeed I am honey, I have only you to thank.