I'm the worstest Dad ever.
Jun. 6th, 2008 08:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsYesterday's crisis starts as I'm walking from first Avenue to third in downtown, through a rather unpleasant neighborhood (a drug rehabilitation outpatient center is on second, and there's a dive bar on third, so the locals can be rough, although the city put a dog park in across the street from the bar in the hopes of attracting more upscale people to the neighborhood) and Omaha calls me.
She tells me that I'm going to be unhappy. Yamaraashi-chan came home this afternoon to tell her, "I can't wait for the concert this evening!"
Omaha says, "What concert?"
"The Big Band Blast! I'm in it!"
Omaha eventually gets out of her that there's a performance tonight, in concert with some other schools, and they'll all be gathering at some elementary school, the location of which we don't know.
Since Omaha and I had gotten exactly zero information on this from Yamaraashi-chan-- this was quite literally the first time she'd talked about it-- and since we'd already had other plans on the household calendar (a big whiteboard on the wall in the living room) we decided she wasn't going. I mentioned to Omaha that Angi had sent me an email this morning asking if Yamaraashi-chan was in the thing on the school calendar called "Big Band Blast" and if so, where was it? She included a copy of the calendar with her email. Omaha wanted me to read the email to her, but I couldn't while I was still walking down the street. I promised her I'd call her back with the details when I had a chance.
Just as I was turning the corner at third, my mother calls. "I just wanted to give you my new phone numbers. I'm moving, you know." Yes, I know. You've told me that twice already. "Okay, here it is." Fumble fumble with the PDA, almost drop the PDA, recover, scribble madly. An ambulance goes by. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" No, Mom, an ambulance drove by. I'm at a bus stop. In a modestly big city. Oh, here's my bus. Put away the PDA.
"I have to go, Mom, I have to talk to Omaha." I hit the hang-up button with my left hand while fumbling for the laptop with my right. I didn't hit it enough, because my mother heard me cursing in my stress.
I got out the laptop and called Omaha back, read her the email. "She doesn't know any more than we do," she says. This really big deal in Yamaraashi-chan's life is something she's been keeping secret from all of us.
After I hang up the phone rings again. It's my mother. "Are you sure you're okay? I guess you tried to hang up but didn't somehow and I heard you sigh and muttering, and... is everything all right up there?"
I tell her everything's fine, I'm just a little stressed out. I have an eight-year-old and an eleven-year-old; they do that to a father.
She proceeds to give me ten minutes of "advice." It's really her own angst and anguish, her tale of how she tried to be a good mother but it was hard, you know, because she was a single parent and didn't have anyone to back her up "the way you and Omaha do for each other. You know?"
I assure her that I understand, and that I love her and appreciate her advice, and then finally get some piece. The bus is packed, and I'm having a hard time convincing myself to write. I should. I should treat it more professionally, but at that moment nothing is coming to me.
Oh, and her "best" advice? I should keep Yamaraashi-chan at home, but I should also cancel my outing. "If you stay, it'll emphasize just how upset you were. If you go, it'll make her feel like you don't care about her and just want to do your own thing."
I get home and email Yamaraashi-chan's teacher, expressing my frustration, and her mother. Omaha and I review what we've got. The only thing we have is that Yamaraashi-chan gave us a field trip permission slip a few days earlier, but that was for a day trip for "Music Education," not a nighttime performance. Apparently that was the rehearsal. I'd even asked Yamaraashi-chan about it and she said it was "to go see a rehearsal," which was something I remembered my music teachers doing for me at that grade, so I thought that was all it was about. Yamaraashi-chan wasn't very forthcoming.
The music teacher emailed me back immediately (a far cry better than her regular teacher) telling us he hand sent home paperwork with Yamaraashi-chan a few weeks ago. If he did, it never got into anyone's calendar. Yamaraashi-chan told me she gave that to her mother because the Thursday of the concert was a day she would be with her mom. I asked her if she ever intended to tell Omaha and I, or did she not want us to come to the performance? She said she thought we knew about it. How could we know about it, she never told us about it.
Finally, I called Yamaraashi-chan's mother and left her a message. Since she had expressed interest in going, would she like to take Yamaraashi-chan to the performance? She called back while I was in the shower, but the message was that she was far North where her boyfriend lives and had already taken some medication that made her too dizzy to drive. (Of course, she'll spin this into a story about how mean and awful I am for depriving Yamaraashi-chan of "something special... again" and how she could have come to Yamaraashi-chan's rescue if only I had answered the email while I was at my office, etc. etc. ad nausea. Perhaps I shouldn't be quite so hard; she sounded actually pleasant and reasonable in conversation this time around, but I've been burned so often I can't quite bring myself to trust her reactions.) She also tells me that she never received any paperwork about it, nor had Yamaraashi-chan told her any more details. The only advanced warning either family got was an entry in the school calendar sent out two days ago, which had no details about locations, times, or participants.
Anyway, Omaha eventually kicked me out of the house to go spend time with other people. "You need to go and de-stress," she insisted. True, but I'm presently in absolutely no mood to go out and have fun now. Omaha disagrees with my mother. "If you stay," she says, "That'll just show Yamaraashi-chan how unfair it all is. You're the one with the car. You could have given her a ride. We need to show her that the calendar on the wall is there for a reason." I decide she's right, and head out.
But I still felt bad about the whole thing. I mean, it is kinda a dad's job to ride to the rescue, but after the incident at Folklife Yamaraashi-chan really needs to stop assuming that I, or anyone, will always be there to save her from herself.
She tells me that I'm going to be unhappy. Yamaraashi-chan came home this afternoon to tell her, "I can't wait for the concert this evening!"
Omaha says, "What concert?"
"The Big Band Blast! I'm in it!"
Omaha eventually gets out of her that there's a performance tonight, in concert with some other schools, and they'll all be gathering at some elementary school, the location of which we don't know.
Since Omaha and I had gotten exactly zero information on this from Yamaraashi-chan-- this was quite literally the first time she'd talked about it-- and since we'd already had other plans on the household calendar (a big whiteboard on the wall in the living room) we decided she wasn't going. I mentioned to Omaha that Angi had sent me an email this morning asking if Yamaraashi-chan was in the thing on the school calendar called "Big Band Blast" and if so, where was it? She included a copy of the calendar with her email. Omaha wanted me to read the email to her, but I couldn't while I was still walking down the street. I promised her I'd call her back with the details when I had a chance.
Just as I was turning the corner at third, my mother calls. "I just wanted to give you my new phone numbers. I'm moving, you know." Yes, I know. You've told me that twice already. "Okay, here it is." Fumble fumble with the PDA, almost drop the PDA, recover, scribble madly. An ambulance goes by. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" No, Mom, an ambulance drove by. I'm at a bus stop. In a modestly big city. Oh, here's my bus. Put away the PDA.
"I have to go, Mom, I have to talk to Omaha." I hit the hang-up button with my left hand while fumbling for the laptop with my right. I didn't hit it enough, because my mother heard me cursing in my stress.
I got out the laptop and called Omaha back, read her the email. "She doesn't know any more than we do," she says. This really big deal in Yamaraashi-chan's life is something she's been keeping secret from all of us.
After I hang up the phone rings again. It's my mother. "Are you sure you're okay? I guess you tried to hang up but didn't somehow and I heard you sigh and muttering, and... is everything all right up there?"
I tell her everything's fine, I'm just a little stressed out. I have an eight-year-old and an eleven-year-old; they do that to a father.
She proceeds to give me ten minutes of "advice." It's really her own angst and anguish, her tale of how she tried to be a good mother but it was hard, you know, because she was a single parent and didn't have anyone to back her up "the way you and Omaha do for each other. You know?"
I assure her that I understand, and that I love her and appreciate her advice, and then finally get some piece. The bus is packed, and I'm having a hard time convincing myself to write. I should. I should treat it more professionally, but at that moment nothing is coming to me.
Oh, and her "best" advice? I should keep Yamaraashi-chan at home, but I should also cancel my outing. "If you stay, it'll emphasize just how upset you were. If you go, it'll make her feel like you don't care about her and just want to do your own thing."
I get home and email Yamaraashi-chan's teacher, expressing my frustration, and her mother. Omaha and I review what we've got. The only thing we have is that Yamaraashi-chan gave us a field trip permission slip a few days earlier, but that was for a day trip for "Music Education," not a nighttime performance. Apparently that was the rehearsal. I'd even asked Yamaraashi-chan about it and she said it was "to go see a rehearsal," which was something I remembered my music teachers doing for me at that grade, so I thought that was all it was about. Yamaraashi-chan wasn't very forthcoming.
The music teacher emailed me back immediately (a far cry better than her regular teacher) telling us he hand sent home paperwork with Yamaraashi-chan a few weeks ago. If he did, it never got into anyone's calendar. Yamaraashi-chan told me she gave that to her mother because the Thursday of the concert was a day she would be with her mom. I asked her if she ever intended to tell Omaha and I, or did she not want us to come to the performance? She said she thought we knew about it. How could we know about it, she never told us about it.
Finally, I called Yamaraashi-chan's mother and left her a message. Since she had expressed interest in going, would she like to take Yamaraashi-chan to the performance? She called back while I was in the shower, but the message was that she was far North where her boyfriend lives and had already taken some medication that made her too dizzy to drive. (Of course, she'll spin this into a story about how mean and awful I am for depriving Yamaraashi-chan of "something special... again" and how she could have come to Yamaraashi-chan's rescue if only I had answered the email while I was at my office, etc. etc. ad nausea. Perhaps I shouldn't be quite so hard; she sounded actually pleasant and reasonable in conversation this time around, but I've been burned so often I can't quite bring myself to trust her reactions.) She also tells me that she never received any paperwork about it, nor had Yamaraashi-chan told her any more details. The only advanced warning either family got was an entry in the school calendar sent out two days ago, which had no details about locations, times, or participants.
Anyway, Omaha eventually kicked me out of the house to go spend time with other people. "You need to go and de-stress," she insisted. True, but I'm presently in absolutely no mood to go out and have fun now. Omaha disagrees with my mother. "If you stay," she says, "That'll just show Yamaraashi-chan how unfair it all is. You're the one with the car. You could have given her a ride. We need to show her that the calendar on the wall is there for a reason." I decide she's right, and head out.
But I still felt bad about the whole thing. I mean, it is kinda a dad's job to ride to the rescue, but after the incident at Folklife Yamaraashi-chan really needs to stop assuming that I, or anyone, will always be there to save her from herself.
