Sorry in advance, but I really have to vent right now.
My brother in law is driving me absolutely crazy. Then again, crazy isn’t really word for it. He’s pissing me the f**k off. Yeah–that’s better. I don’t get him, I really, really don’t. For example…last night. My sister was at the school all day to get her classroom ready in preparation for the start of school in September, so I had the twins and my niece Lena who stayed after the boys’ baptism on Sunday. No big deal. I’m used to having the boys. That’s not the problem. The problem is their damn father.
He’s useless. I’m sorry to say that, but it’s true. He does nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yesterday was no exception. He pulled his bullshit again where he comes home from work, changes his clothes, then holes himself in the office playing one of his damn computer games non-stop. And by non-stop, I mean for hours on end. It’s true. He’ll literally sit in front of that computer, or TV, or iPad and play his stupid games. His idea of interacting with the twins is to crouch down in front of the jump-a-roo for a minute smiling and saying “hi buddy” and ruffling their hair…and that’s about it. One minute. If that. He doesn’t interact with them at all, unless he’s told or asked to, and even then–he only does it grudgingly. He doesn’t see anything wrong with that. In fact–he’s under the impression that he’s in the running for father of the year. He’s got everyone fooled. No one knows what it’s like. He’s convinced his parents that he’s a doting father and accepts their praises when it’s all total bullshit. Not that they’d care if they knew the truth because for some damn reason, they seem to think that he walks on water. Well, newsflash–he doesn’t. At all.
Like I said, he got home and stopped on his way into the office to play his game to inform me–which I already knew–that my sister wouldn’t be home until really late, and to tell me that if I needed him, he’d be in the office. Yep. He stayed in there the entire time AFTER he let the damn dogs into the room, which woke up the babies from their much-needed afternoon nap–right after I’d just gotten the sleep, by the way. Ohhh, I was pissed. I was just like really–are you effin kidding me, dude? He doesn’t care. I mean, so what if it just took me ALL day to finally quiet them down long enough to take a nap…oh well. So what if Tyler’s cranky and teething bad right now and is screaming his head off. So what. He just ignores it. I don’t know how he does it, but he does. Don’t get me wrong–crying it out is healthy sometimes. But there’s a difference between “crying it out” and crying because something’s actually wrong. Not that he’d know the difference. My sister and I know that there’s a difference between a crying-it-out cry and a pain/really needing attention cry…but he couldn’t tell you the difference even if he had flashcards. That’s how oblivious he is.
My sister has tried talking to him about it, on many occasions. It seems to just go in and out of his ear. She’s tried everything. She’s tried punishing him by limiting the time he can play his game or watch the TV…but that only lasts a few days and then he’s right back at it, doing the same damn thing–ignoring his children. Oh, how I’d love to “talk” to him about it. I really would. You have no idea. It wouldn’t be pretty–that’s for sure. I want to tell him exactly what I think of him, I really do. I want to tell him how much of a selfish, obnoxious, useless jerk he is. I want to tell him that while he may have the rest of the world fooled–he doesn’t fool me one bit. He likes to complain about my sister/aunt neglecting and having nothing to do with her kids…when hello–he’s no better.
He may provide them with food and shelter, but that’s about it. Now, some people might think that’s plenty enough, but I’m not one of those people. The way I see it, it’s not even close. It’s not. I mean, how can you honestly call yourself a good father–or just a father in general–when you barely have any interaction at all with your kids? You just can’t.
I don’t get it. Actually, it’s ironic. He claimed he wanted kids so badly before the twins. I mean, why would you go through over a year of fertility problems and spend thousands and thousands of dollars on procedures and treatments if you didn’t want kids? It doesn’t make sense. I’m starting to really believe that it was all just about appearances. I don’t think he wanted the kids–not really. I think he just did it because it was expected of him. He was at that age and married and financially secure and the oldest of his siblings, so logically the next step was to have kids. I honestly think that’s all it was to him. A duty he fulfilled–that’s it. Nothing more. Whether he wanted them or not though, is besides the point. The fact is, they’re here. And he has a responsibility towards them whether he likes it or not.
My sister’s given up trying to get him to step up, as its only proven to be a waste of time and a waste of her breath. But I’m sick of it. I really am. The guy needs a reality check. A big one. He needs to realize that it’s not about him anymore and get his priorities in check. I’d love to help him with that–oh, I really would. He wouldn’t like it–that much I’m sure of. My sister thinks I should just ignore it. Well here’s what I think about that–HELL TO THE NO. I’m fed up.
She knew I was pissed when she got home from the texts I’d sent her earlier in the night, and she knew why. Apparently she had a talk with him when they went to bed and get this–the bastard had the nerve to lie and say that he tried to help me, but I wouldn’t let him. The hell he did! All he did was tell me on the way there that he’d be in the office playing his game if I needed him. Well, I didn’t need him. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of the twins on my own. I don’t NEED his help…but for christsakes, it’d be nice of him to at least OFFER once in a while. Like he could have offered to help me feed the boys dinner and give them their baths and play with them. Did he? Of course not.
My sister says that I should have gone in there and made him come out and help, but why the hell should I have done that? I mean, come on…they’re his kids! I shouldn’t have to ask him to help me. We shouldn’t have to ask him to interact with his own children once in a while. And I’m not going to beg him to own up to his responsibilities. He should do it on his own…because he wants to. But does he? Nope.
I’m dreading the days when school starts and my sister goes back to work, I really am. Because she works an hour and a half away, she usually doesn’t get home until 6 or 7 o’clock at night most nights, meaning by then that he’s been home for several hours already. Which pretty much means, I still have the boys until then. My sister will text him sometimes and tell him that he’s to tell me I can go upstairs when he gets home while he takes care of the boys, but that rarely happens and when it does–I usually don’t even bother. Mostly, because I don’t trust him. I don’t. Not with the boys. Granted, I don’t think he’d deliberately hurt either one of them–but I do know that he’ll have no problem ignoring them. How am I supposed to go upstairs and do work–especially when my online courses start up in a couple of weeks–when the boys are screaming their heads off downstairs and not being taken care of properly? I can’t.
Things have got to change or I swear to god I’m going to lose it on him. I’m sick of having to do it all. Hell, I’m sick of having to do HIS job. They’re his kids. They aren’t mine. I mean, I love them to death, but if I wanted to have twins, I would have gone out and had them. I don’t want to raise someone else’s kids, damn it. I want to have a life.
I’m grateful for my sister for all that she’s done for me, but it’s getting to the point that I really just want to tell her that she’s going to have to get someone else to watch the boys until I leave for Tennessee in December, because this is bullshit. I don’t want to be here. The only reason I am is because my sister needs my help, and I owe her that at least. And I’m here for the boys, because despite their shitty excuse for a father, I love them more than anything. I’m not doing it for him. I’ m doing it for them. But I can’t take much more. It’s not right and it’s not fair. Not to me. And certainly not to the boys.
They deserve better. Frankly, so does my sister.
He needs to step up.
Or by God, I won’t be responsible for what happens. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.