Good morning, Sugar.
I know that last night was really, really hard, again. I’m so sorry for the way that things turned out. If I’d had any idea that things would have turned out like they had, I would have handled things differently, somehow. We need to find a way through all of the gaslighting, so that you three girls can all know, and be comfortable in the fact that you aren’t doing things wrong, and shouldn’t be in trouble for normal things that people do every single day.
I want you to try to remember these things:
Mom had Thea ask me to pick you up from school (with only 15ish minutes notice).
She asked not because she was working, or busy, but because she was taking a nap.
We went to get your school project supplies, because you didn’t trust her to follow through.
I bought you new clothes, again, because mom said she would, but never followed through.
I made sure you had dinner, because you said that she has no groceries or food.
You asked mom if you could stay the night, after they ordered pizza without you.
When mom said “no”, she was furious with you, and the fact that you were sad and upset, only made her angrier.
Now, I need you to really think about all of those facts, and try to tell me, for normal, healthy people… what part of that entire set of details would have made sense to be angry about? The correct answer is nothing that you did. I know that you likely know all of this, but, I constantly need to hammer it home, so that you remember, that none of this is normal, and you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a good kid, and I don’t want you to learn to be wary of, and constantly worried about making people upset, for doing completely normal things. It wasn’t wrong to ask. It wasn’t wrong to be disappointed in her answer.
This coming week will be much better, I promise. I’m so, so sorry last night turned out like it did. On the bright side, I had a ton of fun hanging out with you, as always. I hope that your today is better, and I’ll be around if you need anything. I miss and love you a ton.
Love,
-Dad