People vs. The Game

Today started ok. The boyfriend let me sleep in. I rolled over and he was gone. I knew that meant he arose before the little one came in screaming like a wild banshee, which she does on Saturday and Sunday mornings at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Yesterday I got up with her and let him sleep in, so I knew that was my cue that today was my day to sleep, which I did. I slept and slept and slept until 8:45 and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Then I stretched and went running.

When I came back he was sitting outside reading the Sunday paper, so I hydrated and sat outside to join him. She came out too, and decided to dig in the dirt "for slugs" she said. She made a muddy mess with cups of water and dirt and God only knows what, but she was having a good time and this allotted me more time to read and drink coffee without having to entertain her, so I let her make as much of a mess a she wanted.

Earlier that morning, when I came down to say good morning to the two of them, she was playing her nintendo DS game. The two of them had been to the local coffee shop to buy coffee and scones, and she was embroiled in the heat of some game. I said "good morning Macy." To which she replied, "Please be quite, I'm playing my game." I said, "Pardon me?" and she said, "I said PLEASE BE QUIET, I'm TRYING to PLAY my GAME."

Now, sleep or no sleep, I'm not a morning person, and I'm definitely not attune to attitude from a child playing some electronic game and not speaking to me. Manners were a must in the household in which I grew up, and I find myself attempting to enforce them on Macy all of the time. I looked at her father with a raised eyebrow. He said "Macy's having a bit of trouble with her game this morning." Ahh, I see...and this is my problem how? So I said in my ever so ginger sassy morning voice, "Um, people are more important than any game...that's rude. I'm going running." He smiled his constant smile and said, "The coffee will be waiting for you when you get back." I kissed him good-bye and headed out the door, thinking about how I would confront the issue upon my return.

I started down the street, full of piss and vinegar, preparing my speech. "Look," I thought, "I know Macy is only 8, but she needs to learn this stuff now so she doesn't turn in to some weird gamer type who can't function properly in normal society when she's a teenager or God forbid an adult. We've got to teach her that people are more important that any game. That no matter what is happening in her game, if anybody speaks to her, especially an adult, she is to set her game aside and look them in the eye and address them politely."

Yes, yes, that's it. It's perfect. Now, concentrate on breathing while you run - in through the nose, out through the mouth. Perfect.

So there I sat after my run, fully hydrated, raspberry scone on the plate in front of me, coffee in the mug to my right, NY times in my hands, in my boyfriend's lawn furniture in his nicely mowed back yard while his 8 year old daughter dug for slugs in the mud to my left, and he was upstairs showering, my speech all prepared for when he came back down.

Now two important things you should know before I continue this story: 1. They lost his wife/her mother to cancer approximately four years ago. I didn't know them then, but as their story unfolds to me, I know that their lives were smashed apart by her death. Who's wouldn't be? I don't want this blog in general to be about that, it's not fair to me for it to be, this is my outlet, but I need for you to know in order for this story to make sense. 2. Every Sunday I love to read the SundayStyles section of the NY Times, and in particular, the Modern Love column.

So, there I sat, all set up for a successful hour at least, of reading and breakfast/caffeine fulfillment when I came across the Modern Love section. Today it was about a woman who was dating a man with an 8 year old daughter. The 8 year old daughter had lost her mother (though I don't know to what). The man whom the woman was dating died of cancer while she was dating him, and she was left with this 8 year old girl, though she didn't want to be her mother. In fact, nobody really wanted to be her mother. As the father was dying, it was really difficult for anybody to want to step up to take this child. Finally an aunt did, and the author of the column agreed to take the girl to the aunt's house after the funeral. The author hadn't wanted to keep the girl, she had had a hard enough time dating a man with a child - giving up the idea of her single life, competing for his attention with the child (I could relate). Eventually the aunt called the girl and said it wasn't working out, and sent the girl to a foster home.

I was reading with my mouth open, tears streaming down my face, as Macy came over to me with two roly poly's in her muddy little hand to show me. "Look Lucy, look what I found! Can I keep them, please?" Yes, Macy, yes you can keep them. "What do you think they eat Lucy? Vegetation? Roots? What should I feed them? Weeds? Leaves? Maybe I'll put different types of vegetation in their cage. I've had roly poly's before for pets." I sat listening to her, even though I didn't know what she was saying. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. I couldn't imagine a life without her.

I folded the paper and put it down. I continued to drink my coffee and eat my scone while sitting in my boyfriend's lawn furniture in his nicely mowed back yard, only this time my eyes and ears were on his 8 year old, absorbing everything she had to say. I couldn't get enough of her.

Oddly, I never did give him my speech.