Morgan is,if you haven't been reading my blog long, one of my step-daughters. I've known her for a trifle over 4 years.
I have three step children. Shelby is the eldest. Then comes Morgan and the youngest is Andrew. I've never had to live under the same roof as Shelby which probably explains why we get along so well. She's also a good kid with a functioning brain. I suspect that if push came to shove she'd side with her sister but she and I have had some good conversations where she appears to understand my position. We have a June wedding coming up and I'll be glad to welcome Matt into the family.
Andrew, though he often thinks of me as the ogre, is willing to play the game at bedtime where I say something like 'Goodnight sweetheart' and he replies 'I'm not sweetheart'. To which I reply 'Ok, goodnight honey buns' and he replies 'I'm not honey buns'. It's a game and he grins as we play it. I think my wife would take me aside if she thought there was anything sinister in it - she doesn't. She also tells me that I'm a good influence on him; I'm not so sure, remember the hummingbird gag?
Morgan, on the other hand, is 'difficult'. Since we're friends here I'll be honest and admit that I think of her as 'The bitch from hell'. I'm not without some experience of bitches though I won't explicitly number the wife that qualified for that description. I'm sure you can work out which one I mean if you've read my blog for a few months. Hint: I've been married 3 times counting my current marriage; it wasn't the first or the third! Nor will I name the later girlfriend...
I pity Morgan's first three husbands. They will go through hell as Morgan discovers that she's human. Even now I feel like taking the latest boyfriend aside and advising him to run for his life.
No, Morgan is difficult. She seems to regard people other than herself to be robots made of meat. She can, when it suits her purpose, be very pleasant. If it doesn't suit her purpose she doesn't make any effort at all.
She's done the Crystal Meth thing; she's come home (at age 15) drunk, she's driven home (at age 16) drunk and tried to fake it up the staircase. Unfortunately for her I'm a late night person who drinks; I saw her staggering up the stairs and as a drinker I can see the signs and interpret them...
I could relate a hundred incidents; but to what purpose? Whether I relate them or not you either take my word for it or not.
And so today she turns 18. She has often enough used the imminence of 18 against us; 'I'll be able to move out'. "So go on, bitch, move out' was approximately my thought the last time she ran that one by. "But do, please, remember, that in June you give birth to a child'.
Uh huh. She's pregnant. Not the first time. Not the second time. The third time!!!
She had to admit to her mother on the day after her 14th birthday that she was pregnant! The confession came a little less than a month after my wife and I had decided to get married and I'd move from Australia to the US. I was still in Australia when it came out. Ok, I can understand. Momentary passion and all that. I, at the safe distance of Melbourne, was willing to stump up half the price of the abortion, imagining that she'd take a lesson from the experience.
September 2004 I was in The Philippines. Allowed by the company to return to Phoenix at the start of October that year I flew home to a second pregnancy. Second abortion.
September 2005. Even as I was on the plane to Australia for a 2 week break she became pregnant again.
When I returned in October the news was broken. Now I have to ask. What part of getting pregnant didn't she understand? You let a boy put that there and... But this time she decided against an abortion. Let's not go into the ethics of that decision. I have my position; you have yours.
In late October, on a Saturday morning, I awoke to a really bizarre situation. Mum and Morgan poring over the cellphone records, seeing who Morgan was calling on each day in the first half of September, in order to decide who of many might be the father.
Further evidence of advancing age and concretion of the brain. You have to examine phone records? Can't think of a better definition of slut.
So come June and I'll become a step grandfather. Wow. From step dad to step grandad in less than four years!