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Posts Tagged ‘kids’

Halloween is sneaking up on us. Ok, more like rush at us like a freight train.  Well, maybe not that fast.  Whatever.  It’s coming.

This was our last weekend to have the kids before the big wear-funky-clothes-and-go-door-to-door-begging-for-candy-from-strangers night.  We spend months if not years teaching our children ‘don’t take candy from strangers’ and then one night a year we dress them up and send them out to do exactly what we’ve taught them not to do.

The kids won’t be with us this year, and since it was cold and wet and raining and the weekend before Halloween we thought it was the perfect day to take them to the pumpkin patch because we’re good parents like that.

There happen to be a corn maze there. Of course that’s where the kids wanted to go. Pumpkins? What pumpkins?

Don’t you want pumpkins for Halloween?

Yeah, sure whatever. Can we go in the corn maze?

ADD much?

We let them go to the corn maze.  We sent a 14-year-old boy, followed by his 12, 10, and 7-year-old sisters.  The male had the map.

Three guesses as to what happened?

They got lost.

In a 10 acre corn maze.

In the cold damp weather.

Did I mention it was raining?

Did I mention there was mud?  A lot of it.

They found every bit of it.

They didn’t however find their way of the maze.

Over an hour later, Brian asked for a map and went in to find them.  It wasn’t hard if you followed the map, watched the checkpoints and listened for them. (They are LOUD with a capital L-O-U-D)

Brian came out of the maze followed by three cold wet very muddy children who were bubbling over with tales of their adventure. They would have stayed another hour if we let them. They probably wouldn’t have found their way out be then either.

Where was the map?

Funny you should ask.

It was in Scooter’s pocket, because ‘it was getting wet’ besides he’s a boy, and we all know men don’t read maps.

We got them all in the car, and headed home to a hot home cooked meal. When from the back seat we hear…

“But I didn’t get my pumpkin!’

He lays on the bed beside his daughter watching some movie with her.  I’m willing to bet it’s one he’s seen a bazillion times, and yet he will watch it a bazillion + 1 just for her. My heart smiles at his patience and willing to suffer through a children’s movie because Princess asked him to.

He sits in his room playing video games with his son for hours because it’s raining outside and they can’t work on Scooter’s motocross track.  Nothing else got done around the house today because he spent time with his kids.

He went birthday shopping for his daughter yesterday and took my daughters with him.  Just the three of them out for the afternoon.  The line between my kids and your kids is blurring more and more every day.

Watching him be with the kids weighs my heart with emotions almost too big to be contained.  He’s being the everyday father their real father isn’t.

It hasn’t always been this way.  There have been times I couldn’t see a tomorrow with him let alone anything further down the road.  There have been times when he has said he wanted anyone else but me.  There have been times when I let him go find out just how untrue that was.

I look at him now, and know if I said “I love you” to him, it would no longer be met with silence or worse “I know”.  Now, I love you too is returned to me.  And the knowing that is enough.

The house was quiet, as it was still early in the morning.  The sun was not yet visible in the sky.  She had gotten up to see him off to work.  He had left her with a hug, a kiss, and “Go back to bed”.  She had tried, but couldn’t sleep.  Besides, right now it was quiet, she could get a few moments to herself, for herself.  Soon enough it would be impossible to just go to the bathroom alone.

Her life was full of noise and laughter most days.  Lots of laughter, much more noise.  Kids in and out of the house, upstairs and down. Playing together most of the time, fighting some of the time, as kids are wont to do.  Some days the noise made her want to pull her hair out.  Some days she sent them outside to play just so she could regain some semblence of sanity.  Regaurdless, the noise, both good and bad, reminded her that she was not alone.  She had a family.

She had the life she had wanted, and tried to create, but had failed so many times before.  She finally had a man she loved and who loved her in return.  She had children who brought her much  joy and laughter.  They  had a beautiful house, and thanks to her, a warm loving home.

She didn’t get moments to herself often.  When she did, she treasured them like gold.  And always remembered to be thankful for the noise.  Quiet may be nice now and then, but noise was always better,  because to her, noise meant family and love.

The phone was ringing.  Again.  Lately the phone ringing was never good.  Today was no exception.  This time she could ignore it.  The kids slept peacefully down the hall in their beds.  She had managed to turn him down and outsmart him last night.  She knew there would be hell to pay today, but it sure as hell didn’t have to start at 5:00 AM. 

Last night he had told her “I want you to spend the night with me” and she had refused.  “You will spend the night with me” was his reply, again she answered no.  He threatened to go to her boss and tell him what a bitch she was.  Promised her she wouldn’t have a  job or friends come Monday morning. For the first time she didn’t care.  He wanted her to stop him.  She wasn’t going to, she could set things right later. 

That had been the night before.  She knew he’d wake up pissed at her, prepared to carry out his threat if she didn’t play his game his way.  She wasn’t going to fight with him.  She didn’t care. 

He sat outside her house laying on the horn of his truck.  She silently cursed to herself, if he didn’t stop he would wake up the kids and the entire neighborhood. What a way to start a Saturday.  She called him hoping that would silence the horn, not wanting to hear his threats and demands.  She breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of the kids sleeping safely down the hall from her oblivious to the drama swirling around them.

He wanted to know what time her work opened for business.  He wanted to go ‘have a chat’ with her boss.  She didn’t know, didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to go away so she could enjoy the day with the kids. He wasn’t going to do that any time soon.  The phone rang in her hand.  She wondered what he wanted now.  She refused to answer it.  Then there was a knock at the door.  She ignored that too.  The knock turned into a bang and then pounding and beating the door.  Persistent asshole isn’t he? She thought.  She opened the door a crack,  “What do you want?”

I want to see my kids.

It’s not your weekend.

I want to see my kids.

They’re still asleep and it’s not your weekend.

I want to see my kids.

Ok, let me call the police and see if it’s ok to let them go with you.

He slammed the door and went back to his truck.  He moved it to the corner where he could see her house, but  wasn’t on her property. He may have been an asshole but he knew how to play the game.  Knew exactly what he could get away with and what he couldn’t.  The police showed up taking statements from both of them.  She thought it was simple, just make him go away.  She couldn’t have been more wrong.  After they talked to her, they went to talk to him.  By now the kids were awake and confused and scared.  In the midst of this drama she had to find a calm she didn’t feel and pass that to her children.  She had to make them believe everything was going to be ok, when she didn’t believe it herself. 

The police came back to the door to ask more questions.  Turns out he had told them she was keeping the kids from him.  All he wanted to do was see his kids and she wouldn’t let him.  She tried to explain it wasn’t his weekend, but since there was nothing in writing yet, it was his word against hers.  She couldn’t prove he made threats about her job.  She couldn’t tell them about being forced to have sex to get the children back.  He would win this round, but she would learn a valuable lesson, keep a record of everything.  Keep a record of phone calls, conversations, times, dates, everything.  As they say, give a man enough rope he’ll hang himself.

She could only hope.

Happy Birthday to you

You live in a zoo

You look like a monkey

and you smell like one too.

The kids were practicing singing to me.  B’s mom asked then “Are you really going to sing that to your mom for her birthday?”

I answered, uh, have you seen the four I live with?  I might as well be in a zoo.

‘nough said

Once upon a time this blog was funny witty brilliant.  There of course have been the break ups and reconciliations with Batman peppered along the way.  There was a time when this blog didn’t even mention BPD, when it didn’t consume my life, or at least my thoughts.

I miss those days.

I miss the days when I didn’t think about what kind of mood I was in. I miss the days when I didn’t measure my reaction to every situation against everyone else’s.  Is my reaction reasonable?  Is it sign of the beginning of an episode?  I miss the days when I was more than my disease.

And here I am, once again, writing about BPD.

Exactly what I wish I wasn’t doing.

Summer is here. The girls are out of school. They start summer school on Monday. Summer school is a great babysitter for a month.  They have fun; they are entertained for the whole day. And they get paid.

Life with Batman is good. Very good.  Shy of a ring on my finger, it’s everything I wanted all along.  He says he loves me and he’s here for the long haul.  Things are even really good with his mother, and that’s saying something.  I won’t bore you with details or gag you with how sickening sweet it can be.  Just know it’s good.

Next week would have been my 10-year wedding anniversary with Slug.  There is a post about that coming up (maybe. I may change my mind).  It has taken him 5 years to finally come to terms with the fact we are divorced (that anniversary is next month).  I came to terms (sort of) with is a while back.  At this point in the game I no longer care who he dates, lives with or marries. It’s his life to live however he wants.  All I ask is that 2 things be understood.  1. I am the girls’ mother and therefore will be a part of his life for the rest of their lives.  2. They don’t stand a chance against me if they are not good to the girls. I will do everything I can to get that person out of their lives if the girls are in any danger or mistreated in any way.  Beyond that, it’s his life. Period.

In the past I have spent way too much time and way too much energy fighting with him over really stupid things, which in the grand scheme of life, don’t really matter.  I have obsessed over the stupid things he’s done. I have stooped to his level and been sucked into arguments with him over things that never really mattered.  It has taken me a long time to learn that the only way to win those arguments is to not even get into them.  I can’t change who or what he is. I cannot make him parent the girls the way I would. I have to let him be their father however he chooses to, as long as they are not in any danger.

I know in the past 5 years the girls have been exposed to many things no child should ever be exposed to.  Their mother has been in jail.  The police have been called to Slug’s house on more than one occasion. At 9 and 12 they know more about police, lawyers, jail, divorce, and drama than any child should ever know. The guilt I feel for putting them through all of that and exposing them to so many things they should never know, eats me up inside some days.  But only when I think about it.  I look at them today and the tweens they are becoming and see that at least on the surface, they are fine.  They don’t think about those days, or if they do, they don’t tell me.  But sill, I wonder what they will be like when they get older. How many years of therapy have I caused them in the future?

Tate is at that age where she’s really coming into her own.  At this age we have an open relationship and she knows (and often does) she can tell me anything.  Like the boy she has a crush on. Or the fact that she’s confused as to why her best friend won’t talk to her.  She has boundless energy, and not a care in the world.  She is not afraid to make a fool out of herself around people she knows, as long as she gets a laugh.  She could easily become my best friend if I would let her, but that would blur the lines between mother and daughter.  I am proud of her beyond measure.  The words here don’t begin to do her personality justice.  She is everything I wanted to be at that age, and wasn’t.

Newt believes she stands in her sister’s shadow, and doesn’t realize she shines in her own way.  She still has that little girl voice when she calls me on the phone, but to look at her, you can see the tween she will become in a year or two.  She is the mother hen of the house, even at Bat manor, she is always in the kitchen helping cook. She hasn’t found that carefree spirit her sister has, even though she tries.  Whatever Tate does, Newt follows suit just like little sisters should.

On the surface they are well adjusted normal girls.  To look at them you would never know the drama they have been witness to, and the horrible experiences they have lived through.  Maybe they don’t think about those days, because now, their lives are happy, stable and safe. Maybe every day things are ok is another day between now and then and fades those memories a little more.  I hope so.

This truly isn’t where I thought this post would wind around to.  But to be honest, I had no idea what I was going to write about when I started it other than I am tired of being my disease, and being focused on it, and making it such a big part of my life. Like the old cliché says, I have it but it doesn’t have me.

A blank slate stares at me with it’s flashing cursor, taunting me, laughing at me.  Nothing to write about today?  Why should today be any different than any other day?

I write opening sentences to blog posts.  And then nothing follows.  My life is, well, normal.  Maybe just quiet.  For so long there has been drama, lots of drama in my life.  And therefore a lot to blog about.  Not so much any more.  I am finding that not every detail of my life needs to be a blog post. Not when it can be a tweet or a status report.

I used to live my life worried about what everyone else thought about me. I have spent entirely too much time and energy in my life thinking people thought about me much more than they likely did.  And now I’m on Twitter and Facebook, where I can broadcast to anyone who cares enough to follow me, what I am doing at any given minute of any given day.  I can announce the biggest of big things or the teeniest of details of the mundane.

We are a society of technologically connected people who have friends around the world via the internet, but probably don’t know the guys name who lives down the street.  We have made great strides in technology, medicine, life, and yet, in personal relationships we are failing.  We are regressing.  We are all becoming hermits.  There is very little that can not be done online from the comfort of your own home.  Technology has made it possible to conduct life without ever leaving your house.

I had a discussion, (ok I chatted online) about our children.  His son told him “Dad, I when I get my first car, I want an old car, you know, from the 80’s”   Our kids now have laptops and iPods.  They don’t know what a vinyl album is, and soon won’t even have CD’s.  They have never known life without cable or satellite.  Three channels and if the President was on, there goes the entire night.  Hell, they have never seen Michael Jackson with a nose.  Or Madonna when she looked feminine.  In the toys and gizmos they have, we are perpetuating the hermit lifestyle.

Kids no longer get up in the summer and run outside to join their friends in a pick up game of street ball that is bound to last all day.  We no longer allow our children to ride their bikes to town, for fear they won’t come home again.  My children have never heard the ice cream man’s music and he drove around the neighborhood with children chasing him like the Pide Piper of of Hamelin.

Life may be easier, but it’s not simpler.  Sometimes simpler is better.

The girls went back to school yesterday.  They were glad to be back among family and friends.  I’m pretty sure the thought that there was a possibility they wouldn’t be there never crossed their minds.  It crossed mine, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.  To them, life goes on without any changes whatsoever.  To them, and their friends, it was just a normal day.

Today, due to ice and a teeny tiny town with no road crew to speak off, the girls do not have school today. That’s normal too.

When they got up this morning, they discovered there was only enough cereal for one bowl.  With two girls, do you see the problem?  They both wanted it.  The argument that ensued was solved by the “one for you, one for me” method.  Either that or the whole box goes in the trash and nobody gets any.  It was either that or eeny meeny miny mo.  This is normal too.

At 6:30 this morning I was hit with a request to wash a certain outfit for tomorrow, the fact that Friday is a school function they want to attend, the usual ‘Are we going anywhere tonight?’ and We need toilet paper, and dish soap.  All of that is normal.

Batman is MIA.  Everything was fine when we left his house Sunday afternoon, but in the drive from his house to EW’s to drop the kids off, apparently something happened to change all of that.  Something I know nothing about.  He won’t talk to me, won’t answer phone calls, or text messages.  I’ve gotten exactly two text messages from him…”No it’s not you” and “You’ve done nothing wrong”.  That’s it.

Unfortunately, that’s normal too.

Yesterday was the custody trial.  Yesterday it all got laid out before the judge.  Yesterday, nothing mattered to him, except destroying me, not even the truth. Especially not the truth.

It’s painful to sit here and write this, but it needs to be done.  If for no other reason than to face the reality of my life.  It’s so much easier to play Scarlet O’hara and say Fiddle-dee-dee, tomorrow is another day.  I can’t change it now, it’s out of my hands, no point in dwelling on it.  Go forward.  Leave it to yesterday, live today.

The judge heard about the pending court cases I still have to settle. He heard about the whole jail saga, about how I was in jail and the girls were at home, alone, clueless as to where I was, believing still I was at work.  They picked bits and pieces, sentences, parts of sentences from my blog and used them completely out of context.  The attorney especially liked it that I called her a Lawyer Cunt.  When asked if I called her that on my blog, I said “Yes I did, because that was my opinion of you at the time.”

He also heard that Slug doesn’t even know his daughter’s three best friends’ names because he’s never bothered to ask because well, he just doesn’t care.  He heard about how there have been 4 restraining orders against him for me, and an order of protection for the girls against him.  He heard how Slug is gainfully unemployed and living off of his girlfriend when he’s not busy sleeping with his ex girlfriend.  He heard that every single year since the divorce I’ve had to garnish his wages because he refuses to pay child support. He heard how Slug is unable to provide health insurance for the girls even if he does have a job.

He even cried on the stand, and I applauded his performance.  Bravo, what a show you put on.  Maybe once in your life, you could actually mean it.

In the stress of the moment there were questions I should have asked that went unasked, and therefore unanswered.  The judge didn’t hear about his brother who is a convicted sex offender and who lives next door to him, having access to my girls every weekend.  He didn’t hear about the many nights I was called in the middle of then night to be told, “If you want the girls back in the morning you’ll come over and fuck me for their freedom.  If it’s not any good, you won’t get them back.”

In the end, it was done.  It’s in the judge’s hands and he’ll make a ruling.  He hasn’t yet, and until he does, the girls are safe and happy with me. I don’t dare venture a guess, out of uncertainty or fear I’m not sure.

So, I set it aside for today. I can’t change the outcome at this point. It’s beyond my control, and his.  If I dwell on it, I can’t function, I fall into that bottomless pit of hopelessness and helplessness.  So, I let it go, leave it to yesterday.  The ruling will come soon enough, too soon probably.  Until then, I have today.