My daughter told the ‘original nanny.’

“Just stop talking.”

She left in a huff of tears.

The second nanny lasted 11 months during an incredibly difficult covid epidemic, before overstepping the boundaries of acceptability. I think it’s important to communicate respectfully regardless of age and size, and so does my daughter.

The current Nanny is a lovely sweet neighbor who my daughter adores and although early feels like a wonderful transition.

Christ I need a break!

Sometimes I find it necessary to clear the air and not everyone has astute self awareness or the realization of when they are bringing their own sense of immaturity and tomfuckery to a situation. I on the other hand have a therapist whom I greatly respect and he informs me when I am bringing my own brand of tomfuckery to the stage of life.

The drama precedes the panic.

The consequences of the drama are real.

Sometimes I just go to a quiet place and pray.   And just like that somehow, someway it works out or it doesn’t…

Either way clearing the air is usually worth the efforts. My circle is getting intentionally smaller.

The problem is not that you lied.

The problem is that I can’t trust you again.

The problem is that I held you above the masses and now you are just among the herd, grazing, shitting, complaining; or whatever it is your lot does down there…

I had to choose, so I chose work.

I felt too inadequate for love; too poor…

I didn’t go willingly, nooooooo!

However in the end it was wisest of choices.

Being a romantic gets you lost in feelings…

I have found it is better to be trusted than loved.

There is calm and no more drama…

There is peace across the land .

I can hear the people singing.

Smiling hand in hand.

There is calm and no more drama…

Not a word in anger said.

I’ve been awoken from my sleep this day.

Soon I’ll be rising from my bed.

There’s a line there on the highway that has come to take me down.

That leads me to the coastal shores where sailors come to drown.

There’s some writing on a signpost. A warning in the sand.

Written sometime long ago by an aged and weathered hand.

He didn’t mean to disappoint you. He’s so sorry that you care. He’s wishes things were different now. His heart is one long tear.

There’s this human in a gutter and this life has gone and passed.

Oh he’s still here and breathing but all those chances were his last.

There will be no more mercy, no more scraps now on the floor.

No more hopes or disappointments… just a cold and distant roar.

He didn’t mean to disappoint you. He’s so sorry that you care. He wishes things were different now. His heart is one long tear.

My plans were ripe for alter and change was in the air.

Nothing ventured and little gained amidst cries for foul and fair.

I would have left her in the future, but it never got that far.

So far from truly knowing, just who and what we are.

I know I said I loved her but there’s no way that can be true.

I tried so hard to make things work with chances far and few.

And then she got so angry from this well of ancient rage.

Something happened long ago, so I bounced and turned the page.

Excuses are not necessary but they make us feel so good.

Its all about the play of life in this world of could and should.

The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.

No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.

It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.

Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.

Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”

So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.

The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.

Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.

Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.

Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.

I have witnessed these creations… These creatures that are your children; with movies playing in their heads, recreating damaged childhoods, real or imagined.

Replaying the drama over and over again! UNTIL…

They are the Hero and some poor unsuspecting bastard they happen to run into is cast in the Villians role and hell hath no drama like a tweaker/drug addict/alcoholic, in the grips of a delusional vengeance play!

Or, this has been my experience.