check.

had 2 dreams recently, ’bout my biological father.

might check to see if the old cunts dead.


#FeelingHopeful


thats all. scroll on.


kpm©


 

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un.fucking.me.

Karakia:

Atua

Tukua

Homai to Aroha

Ae.

Today is my biological fathers birthday.

He’s in the country. Again.

Theres been no congratulatory response on the birth of his great-moko; but we are not surprised.

A sad little man he is.

But I didn’t dwell on his inadequacy, or his selfishness. He is what he is.

He’s not Me and he’s not my family.

I still feel a touch of disdain for him, but I am nowhere near where I was.

Today I celebrated life. Just not his.


kpm ©


 

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dissecting, processing and clarifying : Me styles

Bullet points on ;)

  1. hey [Me]
  • by disabling the relationship, an air of maturity and authority is thusly donned.

2. I don’t mind you hating me you got every right,

  • affirmation and confirmation = I’m about to fuck you over … wait for it …

3. but

  • said after the initial ‘grooming statement’

4. when it effects my mokos

  • classic, ‘what about the children’ routine

5. to see your hatred towards me

  • classic blaming tactic … *yawn*

6. it hurts them and thats not fair,

  • ‘the children, the children … what about the children’

7. especially when they miss their mum,

  • ahh yes, the thick layer of guilt
  • ‘remember your sister died, you heartless bitch’

8. you can do whatever you like to me,

  • just to reiterate the opening statement whilst dusting off the super hero cape …

9. this is the second time you have done it,

  • just to add a touch of intellectual mystery … before …

10. you are nearly fifty and you still have a chip on your shoulder that I can’t help

  • oh, a big slathering of  …. the obvious!

11. just for the record

  • ahh, getting authoritatively technical now …

12. i didn’t abandon you, your mother left me,

  • ahh yah … strong women tend to do that after their husbands have beaten them and they’ve had enough of being treated like shit
  • aunty google said abandonment is waaaayyy different in definition to NEGLECT. JS.

13. if you don’t want anymore contact thats fine by me

  • *says whilst hitting the messenger ‘block’ button*

14. my mokos don’t want to come home to hatred like that

  • taadah!! All the patriarchal misogynistic controlling classics, straight from the ‘How To Shut Women Up and Keep Them Silent and Submissive’ Handbook.
  • Now to commence sulking.

;)


kpm ©


 

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oh the fathers day post and it’s repercussions

addendum: 2018 – It’s Fathers Day today and I’ve struggled with it. But I’m refraining from dwelling on it … and then I found this. I remembered exactly what I culled. A toxic as fuck fake ass relationship.

There is nothing to regret.


So, today started off well … got up … had a shit … turned on the Wifi … started brewing the coffee and revved up the laptop … just like any other day in beach paradise …

Until it wasn’t.

If you’ve skulked around my blog for awhile, you’d have read my whingey ‘I’ve got daddy issues’ posts … believe Me, theres a tonne of them … posts, that is lol.

What you’d also have figured out by now, is my blog is my ‘diary’ slash vent slash learning area slash finding my voice slash processing that shit … place.

And I process a lot.

And I have processed a shit load more when it’s come to my father. Part of this, I recognise now, is because I am completely unfamiliar with the emotions attached to this scenario. So, it takes time to work all that through.

Dealing with my fathers personality is a completely different thing.

I’ve said it before – he is not a person I would Choose to hang out with or be friends with or even ‘get to know’. He’s everything I despise in a human. He’s racist, sexist, ignorant, manipulative and an all round know-it-all. Thing is, he’s not even very good at those things.

I’ve tried to listen and reason and listen some more. I’ve tried to be more patient than I usually am with his ‘type’. I’ve challenged and voiced my opinion, and reaped the consequences of that.

So I’ve been floating along, feeling somewhat violently enraged lately; knowing the root of that has probably got to do with my father and my disdain for being controlled – and then along comes fucking fathers day. I wrote a poem on my blog for that, but didn’t feel much better afterwards. So I posted the following on my FaceBook page; and felt a little better when other ‘friends’, who understood my twisted humour, sent me those little lol-ling affirmative emojis. I know – I’m lame – it doesn’t take much for Me to feel a little better about everything ;)

Note to whomever: Fathers Day was like, last weekend for Us.

Anyway … I moved on. I’ve blogged a few posts about being pissed off, but have generally tried to stick with the ‘reasons to smile’ and life is Ok routine.

And then this morning came.

And with it came this puppy:

Note: after the ‘hey’, my father used my name, rather than ‘sweetie’ or ‘sweetheart’ as he generally does when he’s fishing for something.

So to back up slightly; I lost my sister nearly a year ago. The angst between Me and my father has escalated since then. Mainly because he believes I should just do as I’m told.

Yeah right.

And you’ll Note, the passive aggressive use of force via ‘mokos’? Yeah thats some patriarchal, domestic violence kind of bullshit right there!

So while the coffee continued its brewing process and my pulse was starting to elevate slightly, I concocted this reply:

Please Note also-ly, that said father has not contacted Me or responded to my private messages since he left the country – again.

Also Note: the blanked out bits are the amount of times I tagged him into the post … to get him used to the concept … and to just piss him off really … all those notifications lol.

And thus began a chain of events that is still going.

My first ‘concern’ was my nieces (my fathers ‘mokos’ – grandchildren – these are my sisters kids). I also suspected that this use of ‘children’ and mokos routine was nothing more than a poor attempt at manipulation.

It needs to be said here: my father and his wife are both passive aggressives. However, he was a wife beater but got to old and frail so hung up his drinking mug and his beating gloves. She is the A Typical battered wife. She’s learnt how to control whats happening by lying and avoiding the truth – she pacifies him and placates him. The shit kicker is, she knows what she’s doing and why. She can quote the DV handbook. I don’t dislike her … but I won’t be manipulated by her either.

Anyway … back to it: I posted the following and tagged all my nieces and my other sister, into it. I figured it would do 1 of 2 things. Flush out the bullshit or blow up in my face. Gratefully it did the former.

My niece messaged and then we did a video call. I got to see her and her sister … and her babies <3 So beautiful! And we caught up and there was tears and snot and more tears and more talking.

Turns out my father and his wife have been manipulating and guilt tripping and trying to control these girls since their mama passed. I saw these beautiful girls cry their precious hearts out because my father and his wife had controlled the funeral and gone against all the girls wishes for their mama.

And then the kicker.

These 2 leaches had asked the girls for part of the insurance money their mama had left them. I wrote a post about this awhile ago; but at this stage I only had half the information. It isn’t some random family members who were trying to get their hands on the loot – it was these 2! My fucking god … I was fuming! I also told them in no uncertain terms – to Not Give These Two A Cent! They’ve had their time and pissed and gambled away most of their money. They have money for multiple trips back and forth from Oz to here; they don’t need their ‘mokos’ money … they just want it. Grrr.

After they talked about this all sorts of lies they had told to varying parties, came tumbling out … yep, more tears lol.

But I felt an amazing relief. And I could see the relief on the girls faces and in their voices. I was so pleased to see them … and we’ll do this more now.

After I’d finished talking with them, the following popped up in my messenger, from my fathers wife.

While it may look like she gives a shit, she really just didn’t want her money grubbing secret to get out.

Don’t worry: I got your number!

All this took Me till about 230pm. And then I was shaking and exhausted.

I’ve stopped shaking; I’m still exhausted and pissed off … but you know what? That rage that was deep in my belly … yeah, well thats subsided. It feels like a bit of a light switch has come on.

And I’ll be dealing with my father very soon. When I’m ready. But very soon.

This doesn’t make Me feel anxious at all. Which is pleasantly strange ;)


kpm ©


 

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i had it all along <3

An interesting day so far … I forget that some of my most ‘profound’ moments come when I am alone. Yes, I am an introvert who likes my own company. I always have but have only just come to grips with that and started to embrace everything that that is for Me.

The partner was away for the day and night and this has given Me enough time to reflect and get to the gist of my gistnyness – Yes, that is one of my awesome made up words ;)

After pondering on the relationship between myself and my biological father, I woke with a bit of an unfolding of a revelation. On the third cup of coffee (good quality, heart warming coffee that is) whilst watching a ‘comfort’ movie – “Guardians of the Galaxy #2”, yes, I know … I’m sooo deep I stun my own self sometimes – that unfolding revelation completely unfolded and hit Me in the frontal lobe; or there abouts anyways.

I published a post the other day regarding “family”, and what that means to Me. I described in there, that family, for Me, is sometimes more than blood. What I didn’t expand on in this post, was who those are for Me.

I shall do that briefly now.

I grew up with my younger brother; as in we shared a mother and a house. Our experiences however, were completely different. I guess I resented him slightly for that over the years but have come to recognise that he has had his own hurdles and he, like Me, has found his own way of dealing with his shit. We were never ‘close’, as in, in each others pockets constantly; and I only recall ever having 1 argument with him, and he was pretty young then, maybe 9 or something. And in retrospect, he was just trying to assert his place in the world. And he has successfully managed that! He is an awesome father, musician, friend, lyricist, scholar and Man. And he is self-taught in all areas, which I admire and can relate to on all levels. Because we had different fathers, he had his own demons to exorcise with his father and their family of origin. And he has manoeuvred that beautifully. He has a wonderful relationship with his sisters and brothers and makes sure they are all connected to him and his son, so every one knows everyone. His father passed away a few years ago, but not before he had reconciled, as much as he could, the relationship between them. He was under no illusions though, about what he had missed out on; good and bad. And as the years have passed, he’s been able to let most of the angst of that go.

So while I came to admire and respect my brother, that closeness that I kinda sorta craved, that I now recognise came from not having a connection with my sisters, lingered for a good part of my early years.

What I had forgotten though (as I do, and have done, quite frequently), is that I made some extremely close and lasting friendships of the brotherly, sibling-ly kind, with other people throughout my life. One such friend was my brother, friend and drinking partner from hell. We had an extremely close bond. One that came to a close quite a few years ago, but never the less, it had existed; and I loved and depended on it. It held Me together through some extremely rough times. We would talk all night, drink all day, laugh at each others lame ass jokes, lend money, borrow money, argue, yell, disagree, agree … I became his daughters godmother when she was born, and was even at her birth. I suck at being a godmother though lol.

My gist is … while I hadn’t had a ‘close’ relationship with my biological brother … one that I somehow ‘thought’ we ‘should’ve’ had (which is bullshit by the way) … I didn’t miss out on what I needed. It only got added to by other people in other places.

With respect to my biological father; I realised whilst watching my comfort movie, that I had always had a ‘father’. One that loved Me; provided for Me; cared for Me; was interested in Me; was proud of Me; he tried, at all times, to protect Me; he connected with Me and my children. He was everything that a good father and dad should be. And he is my maternal grandfather <3

While I have believed somewhere within my being, that I had somehow missed out by not having a biological father ‘take care’ of Me; I really hadn’t! I had actually had a better version / the best version of a father that anyone could ever ask for.

When he passed on, I held his hand and stroked his head while the light in his big beautiful blue eyes went out. I told him that he was a good man; a beautiful man; a successful man, and that We all loved him; that we would miss him but that he had done his job impeccably and we were eternally grateful. I was able to do that for the most important man in my life, because he had shown Me love my entire life.

That is the essence of a father. It is also the essence of a father – daughter relationship.

So, you see, I didn’t miss out at all. I had just forgotten – well semantics fucked up my feng shui for a little while – that what I had hoped for from my biological father, I had actually gotten in abundance, from my grandfather father. I love that that happened to Me. And I wouldn’t change that for all the feng shui in the world! I wouldn’t even change it to have a better relationship with my biological father.

And so my peace with it all, came in this recollection:

That I had the father I always craved for and wanted. I couldn’t have had anyone better. My biological father, is just that. And I don’t owe him anymore than that recognition; I don’t even owe him anger, because with his absence, someone greater and better and more lovely, was able to fill those shoes.

<3


kpm ©


 

he infuriates Me more than most …

I conversed, sort of, with my father this evening. I knew about 6 minutes in, that it was a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

He is back in the country and is getting himself sorted for his big ‘move’ back onto his land on the coast.

Now I’ve talked about this quite bit in other places so won’t rehash all those details. But just to highlight:

  • I’ve told him I won’t be part of any Land Trust he sets up.
  • I support his cause as part of his own journey of self discovery.
  • I’ve told him he can’t tell Me what to do.
  • I’ve told him he doesn’t know who I am.

If you’ve read anything about how I feel about colonisation and results of it in this country; or how I feel about being cornered or manipulated; or how I feel about racism, sexism, homophobia or any cocked eyed view like those; or how I feel about having my choices made for me … if you’ve read anything about that … then you’ll know it’s shit I’m pretty passionate about. I believe peeps are welcome to their differing views, in their own corner of the universe. But Do Not slam dunk those views in my hoop.

My father breaks all rules of engagement for Me. In fact he reminds Me of an internet troll that just doesn’t let up. He’s ignorant; a know it all; a racist; a ‘phobic’ and narrow minded twat. He believes he is right and won’t hear any one elses view or opinion … including mine.

I’ve explained to him why I won’t do a Land Trust; be part of it, run it, sign up to it … I’ve explained to him that if that is what he wants to do with his parents land, then all good, that is his right and his journey … I’ll support that for him … it’s not my view or belief, but thats OK. But I won’t ever sign up to something I do not support.

So what has he done:

Thats right – he put my name on the Land Trust as a trustee and shareholder.

Oh my fuck.

Now I can overlook the fact that he doesn’t know the ‘real’ history of his people or his country; that it is probably way to fucking late to teach him or for him to even hear any of it. I can also overlook the fact that he is a perfect product of his generations colonial programming. He believes Maori are lazy, useless, uneducated and can’t get by without the governments help. He believes that we can only move forward if we become ‘white’, literally. He believes our cultural heritage is backward and uncivilised. While it revolts the living fuck out of Me, I get it, and can overlook it.

But to pull the old ‘I’m your father, you shall obey Me’ card is way beyond my overlooking capabilities.

As he was telling Me that he had signed Me up, I could feel my blood boiling. I tried to compose myself and respectfully say that I wasn’t interested in doing that, as he well knew.  He asked Why. For fucks sakes. I just repeated that he already knew why and shouldn’t have signed Me up to anything as I wouldn’t be doing it, at all. And he wouldn’t hear Me. He tried the convincing routine and the guilt routine and the ‘this is for the good of the whole family’ routine. Get fucked!

In the end, my partner pulled the wifi cable out and the call went dead! LOL … just as well! But it has grated Me something fierce. And what fucks Me off more, is that he fucks Me off!!!

Selfish cunt asked how I was and when I told him about the brother in law passing, he flipped that conversation around and back to himself and his land. I know, if he was someone I had just met (which he is really), I wouldn’t continue a conversation, let alone a relationship with him.

Which brings Me to this:

Do I cut him off completely? I don’t know if I have the patience or love for him, to continue trying to form some sort of relationship or lame ass bond with him.

I’ve managed quite well without him, so what do I have to lose.


kpm ©


 

the season for it …

Man issues, that is.

Don’t get me wrong; I understand all men aren’t ignorami, but appears to me at the moment, there are no holds barred on the amount of ignorance I am experiencing by said Men.

Yesterday was the partner … and that continues, unspoken about, today. As usual. And I know it’ll pass eventually, when he gets his fix of ‘man-dom’.

And then there is the Father … again.

He has recently returned to the country he’s been residing in for the past 30 odd years. No, I didn’t see him. He left in a tizzy, and thats too bad really.

Well, we spoke the other day.

Another long convoluted ‘discussion’ about ‘the land’.

After reflection re not saying what I actually wanted too … I decided to ‘gently’ (well, as gently as I am capable of) let him know where I stood … again.

He wants to set up a Land Trust, with all owners of the land he intends to build on. Why? Because a. He needs permission to do so. b. The Maori Land Court has ‘advised’ this is what is needed.

Now my Father and I have walked two very different paths in life.

His, in a nutshell, has been to run away from all things Indigenous (Maori); deny all things Indigenous; belittle all things Indigenous. He still believes the Crown (government) has his (and our) best interests at heart and we should believe everything they espouse. There’s reasons for this obviously, but again, thats another post.

My path: As a part Indigenous brown girl; and a non-looking white girl – I’ve had to make peace (still making peace actually) with both sides of my heritage. I have a unique way of doing that, and at the moment, it works for Me. In making peace though, I did a lot of study on Indigenous history and the colonisation of our land, people and culture … What that has meant for Us and where and how we deal with that … ‘moving forward’ (another post for another day).

So, in a nutshell … I don’t do Crown initiatives, or Crown ‘suggestions’ … I definitely don’t follow any format they suggest without researching the living shit out of it first. Because it has always, and I mean always, been to Indigenous detriment, to adhere to their recommendations.

I’ve tried to tell my Father this, on a number of occasions. I’ve also said that if he doesn’t share my beliefs, thats fine … but under no circumstances will I be joining any kind of Trust, Family or Land, and I won’t be a trustee. Why? Because why do We, the Indigenous; the owners of our own land, need to form some type of structure to govern or manoeuvre what we do with that land? Why are only the Indigenous, Us, advised to form a Land Trust to deal with our land?

The short answer, is apparently: Because We can’t get along and can’t organise ourselves.

For Me, this screams all kinds of fuckery. You see, We, the Indigenous, managed to organise ourselves well enough to defeat every colonial onslaught that invaded this country for land and lives. Every single time we defeated them. The colonial assholes ‘won’ in the end by sheer numbers which they’d borrowed from their home country and the other countries they had colonised. As our number depleted, they replenished theirs. Oh, and not to mention, our numbers had depleted horrendously from the diseases they brought with them that we were not immune too. Again, another post, another day.

Anywho … These are reasons I won’t partake in Crown initiatives, and I am also not interested in their money. When the family form this Trust, they will be entitled to rather hefty government ‘grants’. What they haven’t taken into consideration, is that those hefty grants come with hefty ‘fine print’. Usually, again, to the detriment of Us. So while the short term gain of the almighty dollar seems Ok, the long term loss, is not worth it, in my opinion. Also … my question is always: Why do we need their money? Apparently I am being naive. I believe they are being stupid.

My Father doesn’t get any of this. And at this stage of the game, I’m not asking him too. Just to respect that thats how I see it. I’ve also told him that I’ll support him as best I can … but it won’t be how he imagines it.

So, after dropping this little slash large morsel on him – he gets off the phone … And collapses, hits his head and is unconscious.

His wife rang yesterday and says that his blood pressure is low and his heart is playing up again and is back in hospital.

Great.

Do I feel sympathy? No.

Do I feel guilt? No.

Am I an awful bitch? Probs.

And this is the result of ‘saying what I mean’. Hmmm.


kpm ©


 

did i mention my father went back to where he came from?

It was kind of inevitable, and whether he comes back or not, is to be seen.

So he spent just over a month in the country and I didn’t see him once. This is also not an unusual thing.

The positives? … Well, I’m still figuring that one out.

I certainly got to ‘know’ him a bit more, strangely enough. Not through face to face methods, but through the screen; again. He pretty much, could of stayed in Australia for that.

Apparently he’s used to getting his way.

How have I come to know this?

He hints. Makes little (and large) suggestions.

Unfortunately, I don’t do hints. Or suggestions. I do up front, straight up questions and answers. So do my kids.

Just before he left the country – again – he rang me to say he was ready to be picked up. Like – Now. 6pm one evening … even though I don’t drive; I’ve told him repeatedly that we need at least 24 hours notice (because I don’t drive and the partner has a bad back … ); and just because it’s freaking courteous to give someone (like me especially) a fucking heads up.

Well the answer to his demand, was a resounding … No. But we can come on Monday. So the following day, after he’d been denied, he rang to say he was going home.

Surprise surprise. And See Yah.

No, that shit don’t work on Me mate.


kpm ©


 

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father.

As you know, my relationship with my father, has been … tentative … estranged … different. But it is what it is …

I’m grateful for life … and have to thank him for a certain portion of that.

It’s hard to know what to say about it him, because I don’t know him that well. I am pleased, that at 45, I get the chance to get to know him just a little bit more.

I know his life was pretty shit … he endured some hard times and inflicted some equally hard times on others.

Out of everything … I hope he finds some peace. Just like Me … I hope he finds some contentment within himself.


kpm ©


 

okey dokey – heres the father deal

After so much rumination my jaw is sore from chewing on this bitchy cud!

Heres the options that came to mind prior to last nights conversation with my daughter … oh ye who is wise beyond her years …

  • Ditch father
  • After unleashing fermented hell fire and brimstone on his ass

-As you can see, I’m minimalistic in my approach.

Now this is a stance I take with racist slash sexist cunts … who won’t or can’t engage in an educational dialogue so each party can come to thy par-tay … and listen and learn. This is not a one sided process; it takes two … bay-bee.

Because of what I do, ‘activism; feminism’; and how I respond, I do realise I’m not your average acti-fem ;) I’m probably more tolerant than most. But I have learnt over time, that there comes a time in a conversation on these topics, that the little angel on one of your shoulders, tends to start jabbing you in the neck with its harpsichord, hollering – ‘Bitch please … you know they got their pointy whites on and be cross burning this lovely evening ay? … Give It Up!’ … and the horned dude on the other shoulder is just nodding in agreement … ‘what she said!’.

Yeah, thats usually the point at which I exit the conversation / friendship / acquaintance-ship etc.

And My Father hit that phase about 5 minutes into our last conversation.

So, do I roll with the usual schedule and kick his ass to the curb? I mean, whats gonna happen? He gonna ignore me for another 30 odd years??? Pfft.

Enter … my goddess daughter :)

She laughed and listened … then spoke.

“Yah know ma, sounds a bit like the conversation I had with my father (sperm donor), … ”

Pause for explanation: My girls have different biological fathers; the father to my second girl, I was married to, and he adopted my 1st girl … so is technically the father of both girls :) My girl has tried to maintain some kind of relationship with her biological father though … tried.

Back to conversation:

“… he told me I should ‘make’ my kids talk to him on the phone even if they don’t want to …”

Ok … like thats ever gonna happen I said … but still couldn’t quite see where her analogy was taking me …

“My father doesn’t know me, if he did he wouldn’t ever ask me to go against my principles. And your father is doing the same thing. Not only has he criticised who you are, he believes he has some right to have a say in who and what you are. And he is delusional if he thinks you will go against your principles.”

Ahhhhh …. beautiful girl :)

Me: “So what did you do my girl? How did you deal with it? Because I’ll be fucked if I know what to do with someone who is genetically connected to me but knows sweet fuck all about me. I know what to do with other people … with strangers … but this fucker? I am clueless on how to be respectful but still be Me.”

And she says:

“You are already being respectful Mum … you didn’t swear at him or let rip like you would’ve on someone else … and you’ve taken quite a while to process so you won’t just react.”

True dat.

“Maybe you just need to work out where your limit is with him and don’t let him go any further than that. And just continue being You.”

Awww, I love my girl.

So there it is, Part 2 of my decision.

On all subjects that come up that are directly offensive, I’ll tell him. Not discuss it with view to educating him … just tell him … ‘I find that offensive and I’m not talking about that with you’.

I’ll continue to try to find … ‘common ground’ … with him, and spend what time we have left, hopefully, enjoying some sort of relationship with him.

But I will continue to be Me. All of Me.

No apologies. No explanations.

Ake ake Amine ;)


kpm ©


 

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to the daddy:

shitty photo taken on a shitty phone, of a beautiful little darling, with her koro xo

As a bit of a background on my families state of ‘fathers’ and ‘fatherlessness’. The intention is that you think about this as you make your own decision about being an absentee father.

My mothers father, my Grandfather was an extremely good man. He was proud but humble; forthright but gentle. He worked hard … extremely hard … to provide for his family. He was a 2nd World War veteran, so understood the work ethic that made provision for his family. This wasn’t always wealth, as in monetary wealth. He worked his garden everyday and grew everything that his family ate. He bartered his handyman-ship for goods, services and food whenever he was able. He went without ‘stuff’ to make sure all his children were clothed, educated and had financial backing for their futures. He cooked and budgeted and saved. He was a good role model. He was also a silent, faithful and loyal man. He did what he said. Period. I considered him my Grandfather and my Father.

Why?

Because mine had bailed out.

My Mother left my Father when I was about 6 months old. My Father was physically violent and emotionally distant. He worked hard I am told. When my Mother left him, he left me. He didn’t come and visit at all. The first time I saw him I was 7. Our relationship has been the same ever since. He’s getting old now. And so am I. I don’t hate my Father like I used too, but I don’t really know him … and I don’t care too really. He is what he is. I am what I am.

When I had my daughters I wanted them to have a Father that was present. Or so I thought. I wanted it because I hadn’t had it. My first girls Father was violent. So I got rid of him. And like my own Father, he thought that meant he should be absent from his daughter.

My second girls Father I was married to. When we separated, his punishment of me was to not pick up the girls. They eventually went and lived with him for a time and then returned to my care. I thought he would naturally continue being part of their lives as he had for the previous 2 years.

But he didn’t. And he still doesn’t.

My question to you, Father of my Moko …

Is this going to be your legacy also? Are you going to estrange yourself from your daughter because you are ‘busy’, ‘lost’, ‘tired’? Are you going to let her grow up not knowing much about who you are? Are you going to let her grow up thinking that you are nothing but a passer-by?

We are all extremely capable women who have been raised by extremely capable women.  But should this type of scenario continue for yet another generation? Will you let your daughter be raised without your influence in her life?

From what I can see, you are not a bad man. A little lost at present, but not a bad man. You seem to have good intentions and seem to love our little beauty as much as you are able. But I really would like you to get off your ass and start acting like a man and a decent Father; and if you don’t know how to, get lessons!

You see, I really couldn’t give a fuck if your lost or tired or don’t feel like you know how to be a father … You are a father and your little girl / our beautiful Moko / needs a steady, solid male influence in her life. She needs to know you love her and will always be there for her. She needs to feel protected by you … like she can be any and everything and you will support and love her through every little thing.

And really … if you can’t do this for her … like I said, get lessons or PRETEND!

You should not be absent because its more convenient for You and for Us; or because you have a lack of knowledge or understanding. That excuse is old and tired.

You have a job to do … so do it!

From One Hell of a Protective Nanny who has had enough of Absentee Fathers.


kpm ©