A New Kind of Post

  I have had some things on my mind for quite a while.  Tonight "inspiration" struck and I decided I needed to write.  However, where?  I decided that since my blog is so infrequently viewed and the chances of having anyone actually read this are so slim, I would do it here, since I love this format.  Besides, life isn't all sunshine and daisies. 
  For some time I have been struggling with my feelings about my oldest daughter, Michelle.  I am extremely proud of her and love here so much.   But I am also very hurt and maybe, yes, even angry.  I don't like my nick name being Satan.  I don't like never seeing her or hearing from her.  I don't like that when I do see or hear from her, she treats me at best like a stranger trying to horn in on her time with her family.  I don't like that she likes to flaunt her less than stellar choices in front of her father, me and her siblings.  No need to cuss, dress immodestly, have sleep overs with boyfriends and diss everything we hold dear....and that she was raised with, on those rare occasions she grants us a few moments of her time.
  I married Joel when I was 22 years old.  I had a bit of an inkling what the future would hold the first time I met his former wife.  She was never going to like me or think me good enough.  That is understandable.  I was 110 lbs., blonde, pretty, optimistic, loved her children and in love with her ex.  And to make matters worse, I thought her ex was perfect and she was insane.....though I never told her that.  Michelle was 3 almost four and Jake was 2.  We had a few months of wedded bliss, then the children came back to live with us.  We didn't see their mother again for a year.  In that time, Michelle said, "I think I will call you Mommy, because you love me like a Mommy and my feet don't stick to your floor."  I enrolled her in pre-school two mornings a week because I thought she was the most brilliant child I ever knew.  I enrolled her in dance lessons, and held play dates.  Jake began calling me Mommy, I poddy trained him, got him his first bike, cut his hair and bought him real boy shoes instead of the pink converse he had been wearing.  I cut their nails, bathed them, sang to them, read to them, washed their clothes, decorated their rooms, bought real toys instead of Happy Meal toys, cooked for and with them, cuddled them endlessly, kissed them tons, and loved them.  When the judge gave the kids to their mom after a year of little contact and no visits...her call not ours....Jake clung to me screaming.  Michelle bawled and then went quiet. 
Michelle beg each visit for years to live with us.  Finally when she was 11, she got her wish.  Jake begged until he was about 10.  Then he stopped.  I actually didn't mind.  His Mom had almost died from a brain tumor and he said she needed him.  I thought that was terribly sweet and mature. 
Having Michelle the majority of the time was wonderful.  She was always so creative and funny.  She was a truly wonderful daughter.  Her siblings loved her so much.  Her Dad was so proud of her.  She would refuse visits to her Mom's and we would explain that her Mom was important and loved her and that visiting her was important for both of them.  We always tried to be fair and not say rude things about Joel's ex, but apparently, that didn't go both ways. 
We used to fly or drive to Vegas for dance recitals, parent teacher conferences and birthdays. Sometimes, Joel couldn't go because of his work schedule, so I would go alone.  We drove endless trips to Tonopah to exchange the children with their Mom, and when she decided she would not do the drive anymore, Joel, his Dad or I would do the whole trip to Vegas and back.  We took friends and family to visit them for their birthday's.  We invited their Mom and her family up.  They didn't accept. 
  Until High School.  Joel was on active duty with the military and Michelle was at home in Fallon with the children and I.  It didn't even dawn on me she would want to move to Vegas with her Mom during that period - but if she wanted to she could have.  Michelle was in a school play and I invited her Mom up to stay with us and go to the play.   I took her to dinner, and had her stay in my house.  Why?  Because that was what was best for Michelle....us getting along.  I did that and so many other things.  Then, her Sr. year Michelle decides she wants to move to Vegas.  So we let her.  She was already mad at me all the time by then, it seemed, but I wanted her to be happy, and thought Vegas would make her happy. We moved to Elko for work....which at that point we had none of.  And that was it.  She spoke to us a very few times after that, and visited briefly once until she was about her Jr. year of college.  She began to have more contact with her Dad and a bit with her siblings, but barely spoke to me when we were alone in the house. 
  And I want to know why.  I want to know what horrible thing I did.  Because I have racked my brain and dwelt on this.  See, in spite of everything, I love that twerp.  I continue to do all I can to help her.  Tried to get her a job after college.  Laid in a hospital all alone so that her Dad & siblings could attend her college graduation.  Gave him the money and told him to buy her a diamond necklace for her for a gift.  And why am I Satan????????  I have never lied to her, or hurt her.  In high school when her Dad was gone and I was working and struggling to make ends meet, I HIRED a babysitter so that she wouldn't feel put upon and could enjoy her high school experience - not spend it raising her siblings!  I bought her a car, and sold it to her Mom for her when she moved.  I took her dog in when her Mom was going to get rid of it....and am still taking care of her. 
  Don't misunderstand, I don't want a thank you or anything like that.  I don't expect an award for being a good step mom.  Or a wicked one.

  All I want is to be able to look at this picture, and not cry.  Me! CRY!  I don't cry and yet over her, I have cried more than for anything else.  I don't have horrible feelings when I remember Thomas' short time on earth.  I don't even feel awful when thinking of my Grandparents who I miss so much.  But this picture and so many others make my heart physically hurt and tears come to my eyes.  And I don't want to feel like this.  And I want to stop feeling hurt and frustrated and I want to know why she doesn't love me anymore. 
  Because she used to.  She really used to. 
  And that relationship was one of the most important and sweetest in my life.
   I miss Michelle.