Cuckoo

I recently upended my life, and made a big move across country, finding much satisfaction and contentment in my new home.

I didn't go alone. I went with a friend, and at first it was just the two of us, and we were well matched and balanced. Then came the straggler.

She moved her son in with us, a thirteen year old boy. I had an instant family that I hadn't been counting on. It is a surreal way to get a family; no nine-month pregnancy, no lengthy adoption process, no prolonged court case. He wasn't here; and then he was.

And not happy about it.

I wish he would understand that there is an adjustment for both of us. No matter how much he curses, insults, and disobeys, it is still my job to get him to school healthy, clean, and prepared.

Why should I? Why should I care enough to bother? It wasn't what I signed up for. i could just as easily sit back and let the mother be the involved one, do the hard work and be the enforcer. Why am I even involved?

The irony comes from the fact that I wasn't allowed to do this for my own kid, wasn't allowed to be a daily parent, explore the joys and pitfalls of childhood, and watch him grow. I had a few hours on weekends. Now I'm helping keep another father away from his kid.

And it isn't even for someone grateful. It would be different if the child were happy to be here, but those insults...

I wonder what he will leave behind when he finally leaves the nest. Beautiful, lustrous feathers to keep us warm? Or a hard white mound of bird crap?