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Sep. 11th, 2012
Having Standards
Sep. 11th, 2012 11:31 pmI must raise my daughter the best way I can, and to do so, I have to have a sort of serious structuring about the things that happen in my life. I can't control everything, but I can certainly shut my door against people I feel shouldn't be allowed in my living room. Not when the shit they say or do would be seen in a favourable light by my daughter. She is going to be raised well. I have no other goal in my life, no greater wish, no stronger desire. I am very serious about this girl being raised right.
And as such, I have to be very aware and very crucial of how people act around my family. Every person who stands in my home stands in front of my daughter, and while I cannot control the things people do out in the streets around her, I can damn sure control what happens in my house.
If I am willing to kill a man over baby formula, what else would you think I am not willing to do?
...
I am so content right now. My daughter has been astonishing this past week or so. The one thing is not doing right now is crawling forward.
She rolls easily onto her back, she can crawl backwards and pull herself up into a sitting position. She can launch herself forward and roll around a lot. She can stand on her own with very little support. Usually me... but I saw her do it using furniture today. She flaps her arms like a duck when she's excited. She kicks and kicks when she's pissed. She screeches to show her displeasure, and she's getting to the point she's starting to experience frustration. Which means she *knows* she can do things. Which is probably the best part of all of this. She's becoming self-aware.
I play this game with her where I try to coax her forward, and I applaud her when she moves forward. It's awesome.
The sleeping arrangement is unusual. Due to a lack of furniture, I have to sleep on the couch with her. She's big enough I don't have to worry about crushing her. So she's the little spoon, and she's awesome at it.
I wrap my entire hand around her torso, and I tuck her against my chest, and I can feel her heart beat against mine, and I can hear her breath whistle as she sleeps. Words fail me as I can't really explain it as well as I can. Not my fault, they should've sent a poet.
...
This is why I am willing to make the hard decisions. And why it has become so easy for me to do.
I still have more questions coming, but I will have the answers.