Okay, Maybe I Am Stupid

Have you ever said something you knew you REALLY shouldn’t have said, but you reallyreallyreallyreally wanted to? I did that Sunday. And it has caused some interesting complications.

This weekend, Danae’s “friend” Annette spent the night Saturday. I knew they were more than friends. However, I stuck my giant emu ass up in the air and buried my head in the very nice sand because I didn’t want the fight and the lies and the drama. More emotional honesty, right?

All that was working out just fine—until I got up at 3:45 a.m. to go to the bathroom. I heard giggles and talking from Danae’s room, and went to tell them they probably needed to get some sleep, (I know, I know, but at least she can’t get knocked up. Remember the emu image? Thought so.) I did my usual knock three times and turn the knob.

It was locked.

And it was a loooooooong time before Danae got to the door. I was not pleased. But I had two hours to sleep before the baby alarms woke up, so took my tail feathers back to bed.

So, fast forward to us dropping off Annette. I hugged her, wished her a happy birthday. And then, against all my better judgment, I whispered, “I’m not stupid.”

Now, I’d been contemplating two strategies. The first, a simple rainbow beach towel left on Danae’s bed with a note that said, “I know and I still love you.”

The second, talking with Annette. Annette has been honest with me about her sexuality, so in my head (in my defense all I can say is that I have been very sleep deprived… midnight bowling and solo baby duty) I thought if I talked to her it would open up doors for Danae.

So I whispered, “I’m not stupid.”

She jumped about thirteen feet away and bug-eyed stared at me for five full seconds. Then there was a crazy little “oh my god are you serious what do you mean oh my god” dance. When she stopped freaking right the hell out, she asked, very calmly if she could text me and talk later. I told her she could text me any time about anything she wanted to talk about.

Danae has a very good BS meter. Eighteen placements and 60+ caseworkers will do that to a kid. She was not pleased that something was clearly up. (And there have been several instances when she had the chance to open up to us about her sexuality, and hasn’t. I hate that I’ve been lied to, but I totally understand the reasons and the logic.)

So, long story short (damn, I’m a rambler!), Annette and I had a long text conversation that ended with me saying this, “Since a lot of what you’ve said to me tonight are things Danae has already said to me, I’m assuming you’re sharing what I’m saying to you. I’m good with that. Please tell her to notice the fact that I’m still sitting in the living room, and I have not ordered her to pack. In the grand scheme, this is not a big issue for us. However, we do need to talk about it.” No more texts from Annette.

This morning, Danae texted me to ask if we could go for a drive tonight to have a heart to heart, I accepted the date, and told her I loved her and to have a good day.

And then Dawn showed her ass, and FUBAR-ed the evening. So I’m writing this summary instead of navigating the “How To Manage Sleepovers and Dating with Your Lesbian Daughter” conversation.

To top things off, Annette’s 17th birthday is tomorrow, and it is the one month anniversary of her mom’s death, and we’d already given Danae permission to spend the evening with Annette and her family before I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.

==insert huge sigh here==

What the #$%^&; was I thinking??

So if any of you have any words of advice, please… start typing. Now! Do it!!

Peez?