It’s 27 degrees in New York right now. I hate the cold, but I still want to move back there. Well, “move back there” is not exactly the right term. It’s not like I just left. I haven’t lived in New York since 1998, when I left for Washington, D.C. to take a reporting job. My first husband and I had just broken up, and Washington was the start of my new life. And it was. I set out on my own, made lots of friends, met my husband, and, by the time we moved, left lots behind.
We snuck off to New York last month. We didn’t tell my father. We visited my birth family and best friend, but we did not visit my dad. I wasn’t trying to punish him. He did it to himself. I told him that my birth mother wanted to buy us plane tickets to visit and he said, “Don’t go taking money from her. You’re getting too involved. She wants to mother you. She has a mother complex.”
This week I talked to my father. Three times. I usually try to limit my contact to one excruciating phone call, but this week he kept calling and calling. His first call, “I went down to Hawthorne to see the Obama movie. That guy didn’t go to college. He took a class somewhere and now he says he went to college.”
“If that were true, don’t you think it would have come out in the first campaign?” And, as my husband said, how did he practice law?
Hereditary Insanity is three years old! My actual insanity is much older, but I’m talking about the blog here. So I think it’s a good time to look back and see what we’ve learned. Yes, it’s kind of a gimme for me, but I don’t have another topic and I could use the break. If you’re new to Hereditary Insanity, this “What I did over the year” roundup will be a handy guide to relevant posts. Some new developments: Hereditary Insanity is available as a Kindle subscription and has been accepted by Top Mommy Blogs. Please take a moment to vote so it can stay a top mommy blog. I would really appreciate it. I am also considering sending a post to Huffington Post Parents. Please let me know in the comments which one you think should I send.
I learned that I am passing my fears onto my children, and that’s not necessarily a good idea. (Some of all Fears)
I learned that I couldn’t blame all of my three-year-old daughter’s bad behavior on her age. I had to accept some responsibility for my actions. (Is it three or is it me?)
How do we tell the people we love what they don’t want to hear? I have something to tell my birth mother, and I don’t know how. It’s a big deal and I’m scared not to tell her, but if I do, I don’t know if it’ll make a difference.
Fortunately, I’ve got this blog. It’s easy to hide behind, and, for this situation, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.