i've been measuring the rooms

Now that the latest hurricane threat has abated, I've had time to come to a big decision.
The long and the short of it is: I've invited Michael and the twins to move in with me.
After tomorrow, the baby machine will no longer have any legal parental custodial rights, and that is good news.
She betrayed the trust and the innocence of children, for the last time.
She and her mother also left them financially stranded.
That has placed an inhumane amount of strain on my nephew.
I had known of the financial bind, so that is why I recommended that my first niece and her little girl lodge with him and the his girls.
My thoughts had been an easing of finances for both of them.
Then came a fourth little one, thanks to a careless, drug-addicted, cousin.
Still doable, I had thought, for the sister and brother team.
No, not really.
Not when both work full-time and barely have a social life.
Not when one is attending classes to advance in his job and now has a crying baby in the house to compound the usual noises of children squabbling and playing.
Too many stressors on the two parents and on their toddlers.

I had thought I was helping by arranging play dates with me.
The trips to Forsyth Park to splash in the fountains, with dinner after...
the trip to Fort Pulaski to picnic in a different setting...
the hot afternoon at the playground at Lake Mayer last weekend...
those had been welcome diversions, as well as free for them...
but had no real effect on the day-to-day strain.
Then, about two weeks ago, Christina said something that brought it all in focus for me.
She had come by to recharge - i.e., get a hug - and we'd talked for over an hour.
She's trying to buy a house, as the mortgage would be cheaper than any rent will be.
Most of the reason she wants her own place is so she can keep the floor toy-free, as her two are little enough that everything on a floor goes into the mouth, as it might be food.
Michael's girls, on the other hand, are soon to be five years old and don't have that issue, but they do tend to leave toys scattered about, as kids do.
The situation has become more than contentious, more like a powder keg.
She told me that Michael has been losing his temper and is reminding her of her father.
That's what gave me pause: all she seems to recall of her father - my middle brother, Ronnie - is his drunken rants and his fearsome temper.
Well, I guess that would be right.
She was only ten or eleven when her parents divorced.
Michael was only five or six and does not recall life with his dad.
By the time of the divorce, Ronnie had been losing control for at least three years.
It's hard to say when it all started, at this point, twenty-five years later.
What can be said, though, is Michael is now at the age that Ronnie was when he began his spiral downward.

Christina doesn't remember the fun-loving jokester that her dad once was.
She doesn't recall how sensitive and giving a man he had been.
Too much time has passed and she was too young.
Now, though, she is close to the age I was as I watched my brother step away from friends and family and dive into a bottle.
Sure, we all tried to get him to go to rehab...
and he did, several times...
but he did so because we wanted him to go there.
And now, it's twenty-five years later.
I still remember the Ronnie of our youth, and treasure those rare times we share when he allows himself to be as he was then.
I cannot bear the thought of Christina losing her brother as I lost mine.
I cannot bear the thought of Michael allowing himself to change like that.
It's not that I think he would want to do so, but life can become overwhelming.
What Michael has in his favor is his strong love for his daughters, his welcoming responsibility for their care, and his true joy at spending time with them.
Ronnie loved his children, but he had resented the added pressure of being responsible for caring for two more lives.
That isn't a conjecture on my part; I know that to be true.
Given a choice, he would have opted to do as I did and not have children.
However, I had the surgery to guarantee my option.
He had never had a vasectomy.
Choices.

Yesterday, I made Michael an offer of life in my safe harbor for him and the girls.
It's not an offer I have made lightly or rashly.
I had told him last weekend that I thought I might do so, but it's been several months, truly, since I first thought about opening my home to little ones.
When Christina left Hinesville, I told her she and Miyah were welcome here...
but, she had declined.
Too many breakables on low shelves, too much disorder, too great a disruption.
So, she had moved in with her brother and his twins.
I admit, I was relieved.
As much as I love the "littlest girl", and think of her as a superhero, I absolutely do not have the energy to keep up with her for more than a few hours.
Still, the idea of putting my extra rooms to good use stayed with me.
That's why, when Michael was talking to me last weekend, I made the tentative offer.
Today, I had what I think may be a brilliant idea, to minimize the stress of the move on both me and my two beloved great-nieces.
I even took my measuring tape in hand to see if it was a viable plan...
and it is.
My king-sized bed will fit in the front bedroom, my Ocean Room.
Moreover, it will even fit in the same orientation it currently has.
That means Alyssa and Leila can have my huge bedroom as theirs, giving them ample space for playing and strewing toys about.
I'll have to let Michael know I've measured the rooms and that he and the girls will fit.
(smile)
i thank You, God.