Ramblings of a Single Mom

[Gypsy]

I need to talk.

Owwie. I just cancelled today's P.T. because I woke up with my gallbladder killing me. Walking really hurts. Clothing is excrutiating. Since leaving the house without pants isn't really an option, there was nothing to do but cancel. This upsets me, because I really wanted my physical therapy. I'm so very close to complete relief because of my therapist...and I know missing appointments is delaying progress. Sigh. I already look forward to Monday.





I've been writing insanely long emails since six thirty this morning. Yes indeedy. Maybe by this afternoon I'll feel like I've written enough to be satiated. Then again, maybe not. When something's really on my mind, really upsetting me, writing about it is the one thing that helps me really focus my thoughts, make decisions, and find peace. And it works best if I'm writing TO someone. Which is why this journal has always read, as one person put it, like "a warm letter to an old friend". Not because I was writing in a public place, writing to the eyes of others, but because wording it any other way just doesn't get the job done, for me.

Don't believe me? Ask Mr. Silent. This journal was originally started so I could cope when I stopped writing to him. I wrote insanely long letters to him, for a long long time - letters I was sure he never read. Letters written as much to myself as to him.

When I finally realized that I was writing to myself, I knew that keeping a journal was the answer to giving him - and myself - relief from my madness. And so here I am. For now.

I have to say that though there is crushingly painful drama happening in my life right now, I'm surprised at how well I'm handling it. It's so damned emotional, so painful, that I find myself in awe of the fact that I've not been pacing the floors, crying or ranting. I'm just...trudging through it. And writing insanely long letters to a couple of people.

I have no idea where this calm inside of me came from, but I'm definitely grateful for it. Maybe it's only there because I KNOW for a fact that I've done the best possible thing, no matter how much it hurts. I'm confident that I've made the right decision, and that confidence is not always something I've felt.

I'm confident in large part because of my experiences with you, Mr. Silent. I know I still miss you being in my life, but I also know it had to be this way. And that knowledge gives me a peace I never had about us, before...well, you know. I know you know what I mean, you understand what I'm saying. I will always love you, always be grateful for the time I had you in my life. I'll even be grateful for the pain, because it taught me so much of value. You helped me to change myself in the ways I needed to. I needed to stop putting myself down, to believe I was good inside, deserving and worthy of love and respect of others - but most of all my own. I needed to stop seeing every nightmare the way I did, and view it differently, take control of them. Because of you, I've been able to do that. All our long talks about good and evil, victim and predator, they didn't go unheeded. Thank you, for arguing with me. Thank you for so very much.

Oh. One more thing, Mr. Silent. You weren't the red-headed man on the hill, after all. You know what I think? I think you were practice for the red-headed man on the hill. Practice at letting go.

Thank you for giving me the best, most respectful, loving and bittersweet example I could ever imagine.



I am at a place in my life where I feel confused and overwhelmed, because I have no experience to draw on. I've met someone who treats me with complete respect, kindness, and gentle tenderness, even while making me feel totally safe from physical. Mr. Silent did that too, but it was much different with him. For all his wonderfulness, Mr. Silent is still an angry and vindictive man inside. I rarely felt it's bite on my own skin, but it happened on occasion. His stinging, lashing words when angry, the defensiveness that caused him to instinctively try to hurt everything and everyone around him when he felt provoked, they were turned my direction from time to time. Even the most innocent of people around him feel his wrath, when it's invoked.

See? I see him as human after all. But he's still my hero, and always will be.

But now, this new person is a different sort, and I haven't been able to figure him out. I keep waiting for the big BOOM to come along and shock me. It hasn't happened yet. That doesn't mean that it won't, it only means that I've seen many things happen that could and would severely upset a lot of men, and he's taken it all in stride. He became terribly upset and angry this past Sunday, for good reason. And while he did finally react to something painful, he took great care to make sure it didn't spill out onto anyone he cared about, onto anyone at all. Amazing.

And quite fascinating.

If I pick this guy apart, I can see bits and pieces of both my ex's, of Mr. Silent, of Larry...of just about every man who has ever affectd my life. For example: He loves to hunt and fish. In fact, he plans to go DOVE hunting tomorrow. But he also loves to hunt deer, and absolutely adores fishing. Randy likes to hunt, and so does Mr. Silent. Mr. Silent was the first person I'd ever met who liked hunting dove.

Yeah, I could pick him apart, his likes and dislikes, and liken any of them to someone I already know. But add them all together, and he's so much different from any of them, that I can't put him completely in any of their categories. I just keep waiting, watching, listening, and enjoying the peaceful calmness I feel whenever we're hanging out together.

Mr. Silent once asked me what I would ever do if I found myself in a life where there was no chaos, no drama, no crisis...could I be comfortable with that? I'd never known it before, so how on earth would I function? Would I create drama so I could feel like I was in familiar territory? I swore to him that I wouldn't, because I hate the tension, hate the drama. But he didn't believe me, because dramatic things happened, and I reacted. And because I always felt uneasy, tense, unsure of myself, and worried.

I don't really feel that way about anything right now. Yes, there's drama, soap opera worthy drama. Award winning stuff, probably. But I don't feel tied up in knots, because for the first time, I know that *I* made the right choice, and I'm sticking to it. It hurts like hell, and I feel a certain amount of guilt for the pain I'm causing by my decision, but I still feel calm and serene, confident that I not only know now, but will continue to know for all time that this is the best choice, hands down.

I've just saved myself and my kids a lifetime of drama, by taking on the temporary drama I'm in.

And even while I'm trying to extricate myself from the scenario I'm leaving behind, I'm standing in amazement, staring at this newcomer to my life, and wondering why he's here....and for how long. What will I learn from him? Will it be bittersweet painful lessons, or blissful good ones?

Only time will tell.

 

[Gypsy]

I feel hungover...

...though I've imbibed nothing. Am I sick, or simply suffering the aftermath of stress?

I had to rescue my kids last night. Their father drank somewhere between a case and a half and two cases of beer from the time he got up until I brought them back from the water park, around 7:30 pm. He then proceeded to make a complete ass of himself, by dramatically (such a small word for the deed) making a show of trying to take every pill in the house.

Prescription aspirin, naproxen, wellbutrin, zantac, and heart meds. Woo.

Alyssa called me hysterical from a friend's house, telling me she'd left her brother there, had simply run when she got the chance because she had to get to a phone. To please, please get over there and stop him, go get Harley. I told her to hang up and call 911, grabbed my keys, and drove to the Ex's. When I got there, my son had already bailed - good boy.

He kept telling the kids and everyone else who would listen that he wanted to die, but he didn't really want to die. He just wanted to make a spectacle of himself. He just wanted everyone to feel sorry for poor Henry, who can't get over his lost love, who is losing his business. He wanted to hurt me by hurting my children, just like all those times before. I was being punished. I was being punished because I let him know that G exists.

I never intimated more than the fact that G and I are friends. I never told him he and I were seriously dating, that we're lovers, that we're anything but friends. But as I knew would be the case, he couldn't even handle that. What set him off yesterday was the fact that he saw G in my car as we drove to the station for smokes.

The cops were called this time. There's a police report on record. Six cops who fought him to get him out of the house and on the stretcher. This time, no one could cover for him, because this time, my daughter called ME before she called anyone else. And then she called the cops.

I've been telling my kids for a long, long time that I cannot rescue them from their father until they were ready to rescue themselves. I can't hide in the bushes and watch through windows, ready to burst in and take them out of there when their father acts a fool. They have to call me, or run home. THEN I can do something. Then, in the moment. Not three days after the fact, when they finally tell me what happened.

This time, I got to see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears. I can testify to what was happening when I got there. My kids can testify. And there are those in the Ex's family that have seen enough, heard enough in the past, that this time they're done protecting him. They finally see that their "helping" him hasn't helped - it's only allowed it to continue. It's still happening, and it's still hurting my kids. We've had enough, the three of us. We're done. Those family members can help us, if they choose. They've witnessed enough first hand that their testimony can win my case. If I had the money right now, I'd be hiring a lawyer in the morning to take him back to custody court, and this time I could get full custody. Because this time, he can't hide the truth, and the people who know are tired of covering for him.

I drew a line in the sand last night, announced it to everyone who came to my door or called my number - and there were plenty. His family was calling me until midnight. Over and over I had to repeat what had happened, to the point I'm sick of it. I'm done. My kids are done. No more. No more. This will not happen again. They aren't going back over there.

My son announced it himself. "I'm not going back. I'm sick of it! I'm not doing this anymore!" And today, he got Jeremy to take him to his dad's to clean out his room. He brought home all his video games, toys, prized possessions. Trophies. His scooter. All of it. He even turned his bird, Paulie, over to Jeremy for safekeeping - because I won't let him come here. I hate birds in the house...sorry. Plus, I live in Housing, and there are rules regarding pets. I already have a dog.

This is what I've been waiting for, for so long. For my kids to be ready, for my son to be ready. For the right guy to come along, someone decent, kind, and unafraid. Someone willing to not run from the drama, because they think we're worth it - that I'm worth it. Didn't have to do much, just exist and be seen. And wait. It only took a month. But this is only going to work long-term if he continues to stick around, at least awhile. See, he was here last night, G was. Right in my living room, through all the phone calls, the visitors, the telling and retelling of the details, all the drama and chaos. He knows now what I've tried to tell him, to warn him of - my Ex is a sick bastard, and he tortures us.

He didn't run away, in fact he stuck around until this morning.

I have to call Legal Aid tomorrow, and apply again. I need a lawyer, ASAP. If I'm told I don't qualify (I don't see that happening) or possibly that there are no more funds this year, then I'll call the guy I have hired to take care of my accident/insurance crap. Maybe, just maybe, if nothing else he might consider handling a basically open/shut custody thing, and wait for the money. See, he happens to know for a fact that I'll be getting a lump sum of money at some point in the future. He's already going to be getting a chunk of it. Why not a bigger chunk?

I don't know what I'll do, and frankly that last suggestion to myself feels...off. I have a feeling that if I did that, he'd probably manage to completely screw me out of getting a dime of my settlement, in the end. I wish I had a rich uncle or something, someone I could go to and beg for help with quick bucks. I don't even know how many hundreds of dollars this is going to cost me, if Legal Aid doesn't step in. Legal Aid takes weeks to get around to doing anything, too.

Nothing's ever easy, and I didn't expect this to be, for sure. But I have to figure something out, and pray it works. Come November, Henry and I will be divorced five years. It's time to sweep up the eggshells I've been walking on, time to cut down the tightrope. It's time for some serenity.

Life won't be easy, in fact, in some ways it'll be harder. And who knows? Maybe their pathetic father will actually get some real help this time, maybe he'll actually realize what a fucking loser he is, and decide to do something about it. Maybe he'll find himself in the shoes of a decent human being someday. Just don't count on me holding my breath on that.

But it's time for a semblance of normal life. It's time to relax, to let my guard down a little, to stop being so damned tightstrung all the time. All I need right now is money, and I can fix soooo much that's wrong. Now would be a most excellent time for a decent sized settlement, what a shame it's still a ways off yet.

Wouldn't it be awesome cool, though? Think about it. A chain of events that could lead to me getting a lump sum of money for lawyers and court, meeting a great guy that really does treat me with respect, courtesy, and consideration - who LIKES and actually admires my strength and direct approach even as he treats me like a porcelain doll - is that cool or what?, Henry finally breaking that last straw, getting full custody of my kids... the only thing left would be a great job. Somewhere else.

Yeah yeah, I know. I'm dreaming and I know it, but life is built on dreams. So every once in awhile, while I'm living life one day at a time and taking what comes, I HAVE to daydream and put my cart before the horse.

I don't know where things will end with G. Maybe they never will, maybe it'll be next month, I have no clue. But whether he stays or goes, I'll always be grateful to him for sticking around last night, for being calm and gentle in the midst of a storm. Even my kids took strength from him, I swear.

And after everyone was gone, the phone had finally grown quiet, and we were about to turn in, he could see how drained I was, how bone-weary and how stressed. I just plain old needed to cry. Not because I was upset for poor Henry, hell no. But because my children were so hurt, so shellshocked yet again, and because I'd had to keep my shit together for so many hours when I wanted to scream. I'd wanted to stab Henry to death, I swear. Any idea how hard it was not to take one of those swords off the wall and give him his deathwish? But I didn't. I was calm, strong, tough. I handled it all with apparent ease, even as I was telling everyone point-blank that anyone who didn't choose to help my children stay safe could say goodbye to them until they were adults. I didn't cry, didn't yell, didn't go off on a rant or tirade. I kept my shit together, and did what needed to be done.


And at the end of the day, G held me in his arms, kissed my hair, and just held me. I actually sat in his lap like a little girl for nearly twenty minutes, while he held me. No more drama, no discussing it, just big strong arms to collapse in, and big strong hands caressing my hair gently, as though I might break.

When I said I had to go to bed, he nodded. I was going to take the couch, because he's too tall for it, but he refused to let me do that. He put on pajamas, laid down next to me on my bed, and held me all night long. He didn't make it about sex in any way. If I'd rolled away and wanted to sleep alone, he'd have gone to the couch and let me, and I know it. But I didn't. I curled up next to him, wrapped my arms over his arms around me, and just sighed, drinking in the feeling of not having to try to figure out how to release it all alone. His arms were like sponges that soaked the tension up, and within minutes I was sound asleep.

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I briefly wondered...had I fallen asleep on his lap, would he have carried me to bed?

 

[Gypsy]

thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you

Hey, GC - thanks again for the note.


After I finished posting my last entry all about how my Ex has finally seemingly done himself in, I realized I had a PM. It seems that yesterday was my two year anniversary of my journal.

It's kind of funny. All that stuff going on Saturday, me falling into bed around midnight (Sunday), worn to my soul with exhaustion from it all, finally posting about it later Sunday...and then finding out that that post was my 2 year anniversary. Somehow, it just seems kind of fitting. Poetic even, maybe.

The Ex says he's losing his business, and with it, his car. He bit off more than he can chew. He's lost his damned mind, because he made an ass of himself in a way he can't take back this time - not with his kids, and not with quite a few others, either. He's sitting in the psych ward right now, and I just wonder what he's saying now that he's sobered up. He's probably realizing how badly he's fucked up, and backpedaling hard and fast. No, I don't really want to die. No, I didn't mean it when I said if they stopped me from committing suicide Saturday night, I'd just put a bullet in my brain later - I was just upset. And very drunk. I won't get drunk anymore, I promise.

*rolls eyes*

His kids have cleaned out their rooms at his place, brought everything home. They're both telling me to go get full custody, they're ready. I've got two excellent eyewitnesses to MUCH offering their testimony to help keep my kids away from him. I've got a lawyer, I just have to figure out how the hell to pay for him - AND pay for a Guardian Ad Litem, too. I've got G saying he ain't running away because of the drama.

I wonder what else is about to fall into place?

I have to find out what physician is handling the Ex's care at the moment, and go speak to him. I have to try to find a way to convince this man to hold the Ex for at least 30 days, try to make him understand that this is not a one time situation, the man truly needs some real help. I hope I succeed in this, but I have a feeling it's not going to happen.

I still don't have a job, still don't have a medical settlment, I've now got a huge battle on my hands, and less than $300 income per month to operate on. I have no idea how I'm going to pull this off, no clue at all. Maybe I'll set up a fundraising carwash, I don't know.

I'm not complaining about what's happening - I'm glad it's finally FINALLY begun. It's been five years of hell waiting for my kids to be ready to deal with this. The explosion has occurred, the battleground is set, and information is being gathered. It's a long way from over, of course, but it can never end until it starts.

This is the battle that decides the war. My kids are counting on me, appear to have full faith and confidence in me. I have no idea where I'm going to come up with the money to make this a reality for us all, but I have to find it somewhere. This is the thought that will consume the background of my every waking and dreaming thought for some time to come, like the white noise of a fan. Even as I focus on other things, it will hiss repeatedly through my head. "Where am I going to get all this money?" Maybe I'm supposed to win the lottery.

Oh my GOD, wouldn't that be cool as hell? *laughing*

It's hard not to feel ridiculously optimistic, even in the face of nearly desolate poverty, when you are experiencing the blessing of finally having the other shoe fall. The battle is still to come, but the drama and trauma of that sonic boom is done. And why am I so damned happy about that?

Because my kids survived it. Their father didn't kill them in a fiery car crash in his drunken rage - and that was my worst nightmare. It has come so close to happening so many times, it was hard not to fear it above all else. But not only did they survive, but they had sense enough to run, to get out of the house, to call me and call the cops. They're strong enough to say "Enough!" and turn their backs on the madness that is their father.

They survived it intact, physically unhurt. They both went to school today, and neither had to call me to come get them because they were just too emotionally overwrought to finish the day. They're here, safe at home, in bed asleep. Safe. They're safe.

I know there will be moments and days and periods of time in the coming battle when I'll fear for them again. This is so very far from over, I know. But in this moment, this day, this week at least, I shall weep with the relief that they are safe.

I openly dated, their father had a meltdown, he's in the psych ward, and they're safe.

Thank you God.

 

[Gypsy]

I need a "name" for my attorney.

I went to the courthouse today, to take care of getting an ex parte. It seems that the court advocate and my attorney have differing opinions of what an ex parte even IS, how it's applied for, what it accomplishes.

One thing my attorney and I are in agreement on is that we... wait. Never mind. Never know who might be reading this locally. Grrr.

So I turned in the paperwork to the court advocate, to get an ex parte. I don't know if the Ex was served with the papers tonight, if it'll happen tomorrow, or when...only that it's supposed to happen quite soon. I've also been told that a hearing will be set within fifteen days, to see if I am going to get an actual full order of protection for me and the kids.

It's definitely gonna get hairy around here.


I turned documentation over to my attorney today, and hopefully he will prove to be a lot more helpful in getting that restraining order than the CA has been so far. Hell, he and I haven't even discussed money yet. Probably because like I said before, he happens to know for a fact that I'm getting a lump sum of money at some point in the (near?) future. He's just going to end up with all of it, instead of part, that's all. LeSigh. So much for replacing this worn out teeny car with something in better shape. So much for having moving expense money to get out of Housing. Hell, for all I know, all I'll get out of that settlement to begin with is a few hundred bucks. What if what's left after medical expenses isn't enough to cover the attorney's fees for this custody case??

I'm having visions of me standing on a corner, holding a hat out for donations. Scary.

For all that I'm picking on him about being a lawyer and taking all my money, at least when I saw him today, he truly did appear to be genuinely concerned about my situation, about helping me and my kids. I don't think he doubts I'm truly worried about my children, and actually scared for them. This isn't about a powerplay, a fight between me and the Ex over bitterness - at least not for me. I have tried to be nice, I've really tried. And as long as the Ex has behaved, I've been fine. I hate being here, but I don't make waves for him, I don't stir trouble just to stir it. My hands have been tied for a long, long time, and I've chafed at the ropes, but I've been a good prisoner.

The Ex has NOT been good. He's had the Hotline called on him. And enough has happened in his home that his children are fed the hell up. It is my children who are untying my hands, as much as the Ex. The Ex crossed a huge line, and the kids were big enough, smart enough, and tired enough to run and call help.

The Ex was supposed to be held until at least Thursday for mandatory observation in the psych ward. He got out this morning. I have no idea how or why. I'm baffled, and I'm worried. What would make them let him go home? Who is helping him THIS time? What am I up against?

I told my attorney today on the phone that someone is helping the Ex, and I fear it's his father's money. Daddy Big Bucks is in town to help his boy. Has he called his grandchildren to see if they're okay? Has he come by to hug them and make sure they're alright? No. Not a peep. Fine. Have it your way. I drew a line, and I wasn't kidding about it.

I was telling my attorney that Henry has apparently got someone helping him, possibly a lot of money...and I don't have a dime. I have no one to help me.

He said "That's not quite true." I shot back "I have documentation and a witness to prove that last Saturday's event wasn't a first, I have two other witnesses who have seen a lot firsthand willing to testify, I have my two kids stating they have no intention of going back and willing to tell that to the judge, and I have you. That's it. That's all I've got. Is it going to be enough?" I was genuinely upset and worried, because I happen to know what happened last time I fought him for full custody. "I think it will be enough" he said. "Are you sure about that?" I asked with fear in my voice.

"I'll make it be enough" he said.

And somehow, the way he said it instantly calmed me. There was a quiet conviction in his tone, and that was a sound I'd never heard in my last attorney's voice. It was a tone I last heard in the voice of Mr. Silent, long ago, when he was still in full Hero mode.

I have no doubts as to my attorney's abilities in his job. Never have. I've known him, known of him, for years. He has a rep in this town. Not as the biggest and baddest, no. But he's good, and I know it. What has concerned me has been his heart. Because if his heart isn't in it, if he doesn't actually CARE about kids being emotionally abused, if he doesn't have a clue what that does to a person and give a shit, he'll not do enough to win this case. It's that simple. He has to take on the case with the heart of a hero, or he'll only go through the motions, and the motions will not be enough.

I'm not positive yet that he has that heart. But those five words today gave me hope. "I'll make it be enough."

Oh, Mr. Silent, how I wish...

 

[Gypsy]

This waiting is driving me nuts.

It's nearly noon on Thursday. The Ex has always picked the kids up around 6 pm on Thursdays. I have no idea if he's going to attempt to today, or not. I'm still waiting to hear from my attorney about that order of protection. Things could get scary tonight.


While I was gone to physical therapy, all I could think about was "Did he call yet?" So when I finished, I asked to use the phone to call home and check messages. There was a message, but not from my attorney. It was from the Career Center, wanting me to call about a potential job opportunity. Normally this would excite me, but not today. I called them back when I got home, but the lady who is handling that particular job is on the phone...and I'm waiting to be called back.

I have $20, one pack of smokes, and my car is sitting on 1/24th of a tank. Yeeehaw. I really miss Marlboros. I'm about to switch to an even cheaper generic. Who knows, maybe I'll keep smoking cheaper and cheaper, until they're so bad I find myself more easily able to quit. Sure.

I've been trying to keep my a/c off as much as possible, both in the car and the house. I need my electric bill to go down so I can have money for laundry detergent and toilet paper. I need to stop using so much gas in the car, too.

My daughter babysat last Saturday. I'm highly relieved, because she wants to go to the football game and dance tonight at school - and I didn't have the money. My son is going to be highly perturbed that she's going somewhere and he isn't. I normally try to do something to even things out when this occurs, but I have no money to take him anywhere for fun. I'll think of something. Maybe we'll do a puzzle or play cards.

I should call around and find out where's the cheapest place to buy those funky generic smokes. Thirteen bucks a carton at one store, but they don't have light 100's, and I'm a pantywaist who can't handle anything stronger. I used to smoke Marlboro Reds. I remember when Marlboros were $7 a carton. I remember gas being less than seventy cents a gallon, too. I sure could use those prices right about now.

Haven't heard from G in a couple days. No idea if he wants to attempt to get together this weekend or not. I guess everything depends on whether the Ex freaks out tonight, anyway. He hasn't attempted to call since Sunday morning, at which time I told him Alyssa didn't want to talk to him, so she didn't have to. I have no idea what his frame of mind is. Maybe he's feeling defeated and has no energy. Maybe he's stoking a mighty rage. Here we go, waiting for that other shoe to drop again.

Call me nuts, but I think the best thing for him right now is to continue to hear reports that G and I are spending time together. Especially if we're hanging together on the weekends, doing stuff with my kids. Either he can lose it completely and get himself arrested, or he can get the fuck over it. His choice. Either way, I'm taking him to court for my kids. His actions in the next few months will determine how much he gets to see them, and whether his visitation is supervised or not.

Or so I hope.

I wish I had the supplies to just take the kids camping this weekend. Even if I did, though, I have this teeny car and no way to haul everyone and everything. Drat. Such a perfect idea, so completely useless right now. What a shame that no one I know (who is on my side) owns a cabin by a river or lake.

I'm a little edgy and restless, yet don't feel motivated to do much of anything. I hate feeling this way. I should be putting this energy to good use cleaning house or something... but I don't want to.

I'd love to go to sleep. There is absolutely no way on this green earth that that's going to happen, though. I wonder if I put on my Peg Bundy's and a ratty t-shirt, put on some music, and pinned up my hair, would I get in the house cleaning spirit?

Well, the Ex's step brother just stopped by - journal interruptus. I still don't know if he's fishing for information, or if he's genuinely trying to show support. Call me paranoid, but I'm suspicious of everyone that has anything to do with the Ex at all. B says he quit having anything to do with Henry when Henry screwed him over awhile back, but I don't know. He says that he's done with Henry because of what happened Saturday night, that he NEVER should have done that to the kids, but I still don't know. I've been lied to too many times to take anything at face value.

It's 2 pm and I'm still waiting to hear from my lawyer. I just got the paperwork from the ex parte filing in the mail. That means that the Ex has gotten his copy of the same thing, and has read mine and the kids blunt statements about him. He's probably gearing up for a mighty explosion. My nerves are starting to stretch. Calgon, take me away.

I'd love to hear Mr. Silent's voice right now. I don't need him to get through this, I've learned enough from the past to know what not to do, and how to handle the strain. Though I'm edgy, I'm far from a basket case. In fact, I'm quite calm. Still, it would be so good just to hear him say "Everything's gonna be alright." He can make me believe it when nothing and no one else can.

I have to go buy smokes and fill my gas tank. Must be prepared, just in case.

Ya'll pray for my kids, okay?

 

[Gypsy]

A day to relax, be lazy, and recuperate.

Sunday morning, and not so much as a peep from the Ex. I find that to be a relief, and also anti-climatic. I had to remain prepared for him to show up, drunk or sober, expecting to take the kids - and when you're geared and ready for fight or flight and nothing happens, the adrenaline has nowhere to go. It made me feel physically weird this entire weekend.

Not that I'm complaining that he didn't bother us. I'm not, believe me.

He has moved out of his apartment. His stuff is in storage here and there, and the only reports I get from his family is that they don't know where he is. They're lying. Jeremy is a terrible liar, even worse than me. It was so obvious in his voice, his eyes, his expression that he was lying through his teeth. I told him to his face "Jeremy, you're a terrible liar. You really suck at it, and shouldn't even be attempting it."

Strangely enough, he didn't defend himself with words. He actually nodded a little, as though to agree with me, and carried on trying to tell me the concoction that he'd either devised or had been told to give me. I suspect the latter.

So now the story is, Henry could be in Florida, could be in this town, could be out of town but in state...and no one knows for sure. Yeah. Whatever. Nice of him to let his kids know where he is. They don't want to talk to him right now, but just because they're angry, upset, and freaked out doesn't mean they don't still love their father. They do love him, they just don't understand, respect, or want to be around him right now. They know that he made a decision to move away somewhere, got help to get moved out, and they didn't even get a phone call saying "I know you don't want to see me right now, but I wanted to let you know where I'll be in case you change your mind, and I want you to know I'm thinking of you." A note left on our door when we weren't home would have worked fine. Or something like that.

I guess I'll never give up wishing he'd just act like a caring, concerned, loving, protective father. My wishes can't make it happen, and truth be told, when it comes to this particular man, I've long since given up on him changing his perspective on life, love, responsibility, parenthood, honor, respect...anything. But it is in my nature to hope, to wish for the betterment of people in general. Especially people who affect my life or the lives of my kids. There is a depth to life that so many people never see, feel, or even realize exists, and it's heartbreaking to me.

I find myself praying a lot. I pray a lot, anyway, but recently the things I talk about in prayer have changed. I continually ask for guidance in everything I do, strength to remain calm and level-headed, peace of heart in the midst of stress, and protection for me and the kids. I focus on normal everyday life as much as I possibly can, and try to ignore that there is a huge drama running in the background. I try. I don't want my kids to live with the stress of becoming paranoid, second-guessing everything and everyone, any of it.

Those who said they'd testify in order to help my kids have already become... guilty. I don't know how else to describe it. I look at them, and they look guilty. I speak to them about the matter at hand, and they look guilty. Sound guilty. They're trying to backpedal without backpedaling. I'm not stupid, I know what's happening to them. I've seen it before, more than once. It's the Henry Syndrome. Poor Henry, he's Sick but not really a bad man. He Didn't Mean It, He's Just So Heartbroken.

Whatever. That's what those little pieces of paper forcing you to show up in court and testify are for. And if they lie on the stand, I will shame them by standing up and calling them a liar. And frankly, many people in the family (the Ex's family) have told me repeatedly in the past week that they want to see my kids, want to spend time with them. I believe a couple of them really do love my kids and want to remain in their lives - which is why they're walking a line with me. But I have repeatedly reminded them what I said Saturday night: Anyone who helps Henry to the detriment of my kids, anyone who is asked to testify to the truth who refuses to do so, they are history. They will no longer exist. Because I WILL get full custody this time. I will have the say who sees my children, who affects them. If they want to be in their lives, they have to prove themself. And now is the time.

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh about this, but I think that too many have covered for their father for too long, and have prolonged the hell that my children have been living in. Frankly, if they aren't part of the solution, they are and have been part of the problem. End of story.

I want to move away. I don't even have to move far, just up the road a bit, and life would improve. A different town, different school, surrounded by different people. I'd prefer to move somewhere far enough away that we could start completely over, not run into people who ask questions and dredge up the past, somewhere I could get a decent job.

I think, though, that my children want to stay close to here. Close to the white trailer trash people that make up a large part of their family, close to the town they were born in. I think that they don't want to be the new kids in school. It's going to be difficult, when the time comes to decide.

First and foremost...get a custody hearing. Get full custody of my children, fix it legally so that they are safe from constant emotional abuse and physical danger. I'll worry about figuring out, deciding, and implementing everything else after that.

Before that, though, I have to get to the hearing for the Order of Protection. That happens October 5th, which feels about a year off. It's not that long, but at the same time, that's an awful lot of days where the Ex still has legal rights that myself and my children do not want him to exercise. It feels a bit scary. So far all is calm, and if my guess is right, it'll stay that way - because he's good at playing Good Boy when he knows the world is watching him. Still, if he goes on a good drinking binge, his entire perception of what's a good idea becomes sincerely fucked up...so we have to remain careful.

Monday I have physical therapy and a meeting with my lawyer. I hope to walk away from both appointments feeling a lot better. In the meantime, I'm going to tidy up my house, wash some clothes, and call B. The one I don't know if I can trust or not, yeah. He's offered to fix my cb and car stereo - and I know he's installed probably fifty stereo systems just for himself. He's good at it. He's invited the kids and I to come to his house to play on his go-cart and stuff. It might be good for us to get away from the house yet again, and try to forget we're nervous. And I think I need to try to determine whether he's friend or foe.

The kids and I went to the races last night with G. We ran into Randy, Christal, and their four kids. It was...interesting. Christal was thrilled to see me with a man. Maybe NOW she'll believe me, but if she don't, I don't care. Randy shook G's hand, a bit surprised at the man's sheer size.

It was so good to see the kids, I really miss them. I got to hold my little namesake last night, and kiss her sweet cheeks. I was there when the twins came into this world, and I adore them. Once, I was part of their life, and they were part of mine. Times have changed, life has changed, and that's just the way it is...but I miss them.

I wonder what my life will be like a year from now, and who will be in it.

 

[Gypsy]

Minou,

My best wishes, moral support, big hugs, and prayers are with you and your entire family.

******



All's quiet on the homefront, here. The Ex is still missing, and that more than anything leads me to believe he's hiding out in Florida, not in town. I'm okay with it. It makes life a lot less tense than it could have been, right now. I'm pissed he didn't bother to at least leave his kids a note saying goodbye and where he'd be or something, but only slightly so. I'm sure it hurt their feelings, it had to have, and I think he sucks for doing that on top of everything else. Other than that, I'm good with him leaving in a hurry.

Now we just wait for the hearing for the Order of Protection to roll around. Yes, it's only a piece of paper that he can walk through if he chooses, I know this. But it's also a temporary LEGAL stop-gap measure to prevent his legally taking my kids, or even showing up and harrassing us. Remember, I live in Housing, and the cops don't screw around when they're called here. Sure, he can bug us elsewhere, but at least at home we are safe. And the cops can arrest him elsewhere, too. No, I don't believe he'll show up with a gun and insane enough to shoot. He's not quite that nuts.

Life is simply going on, here. It's the same, basically, as it was before. Only instead of them leaving on Thursday... they don't. I love it. My weekends aren't as available for G or any adult only type plans as before, but it was only in the past month I began to go out regularly, anyway. And it's actually just as well, this way. Can't have G forgetting I'm a Mom first.

This weekend, I have tentative plans to go several places with the kids. We're hopefully going to go visit my friends Dale and Shirley and their two boys on Saturday. Possibly the races on Saturday night, depending on certain things happening a certain way. Sunday, I plan to go visit my cousin Johnny and his family in their new home about 30 or so miles from here. I haven't seen them since the family reunion, and it's about time I saw the new place. We'll hang out, possibly barbecue. They live in a quiet little town now, and I MISS living in a quiet little town... it'll be nice to hang out outside with them and just relax.

I had to miss my physical therapy appointment yesterday, and believe me, it was a bad thing to do. I have been in so much pain the past two days, it's been rough. Last night I took a whole muscle relaxer, a whole pain pill...and still I felt the pain. I rolled around on the floor with my tennis ball for half an hour, which helped for about ten minutes after I got up. I've snuggled the heating pad, cuddled the cold packs, done the stretches - I've tried everything to get some relief. Nothing is working. I can hardly wait for tomorrow's P.T. appointment. In fact, I'm swallowing half a muscle relaxer right now, and debating on a pain pill. I want to sleep NOW. I want to wake up early, get there early, and maybe, just maybe, I'll get some extra time on the table. Hey, it could happen.

How am I ever going to get back to work and get some frelling income to fix my financial woes, if this keeps happening? And don't anyone start on me about being tense over life stress. I'm not freaking tense over the Ex situation. Honest to God, my tension levels have actually dropped, not risen. Granted, Thursday night I was pretty tense for a few hours, wondering if the Ex was going to show up expecting the kids to go with him, but when 6 PM came and went, then 7, I knew he wasn't bothering, and shrugged it off.

This actually feels like a pulled muscle, though how I could possibly have pulled it is beyond me. And I woke up this way Sunday, so I can't relate it to Thursday night. I haven't lifted, pulled, pushed anything heavy, my stress levels have been lower since Thursday night than they've been in AWHILE - so what gives?

I'm rattling on about a muscle in my shoulder/neck that's stayed at a level 9 in the pain scale. Whoopee. There are things I want to talk about, want to say, and can't. There were two things about this journal that made it important to me. One was my ability to speak openly everything on my mind and in my heart. The other was the feedback. Neither seem to exist much, anymore.

I'm beginning to hate this journal.

 

[Gypsy]

So THIS is happiness...

Well well well. Another normal day in a normal life. Damn, a girl could get used to this.

Went to Walmart to do some grocery shopping with Sis this evening, while my kids were at church and a friends, respectively. Sis needed to vent in the worst way, and since she has a crunched schedule, well, we have to do it while getting other things accomplished. Poor kid. My heart is breaking, and there's nothing at all I can do to help. I'd give so much if time could rewind to a year ago, and the events leading to her current situation had never occurred.

I want to whup my brother in law, knock some real sense into his head. I love the man to pieces, but he's seriously screwing it all up, and he won't fix it. I love him, I really do...but if he doesn't do some drastic changing of behavior pronto and permanently, he will find himself alone. I hate that. I know how much those two loved each other, but love has to be fed in order to survive and flourish...and he's starving it to death. Marriage is a partnership, and both must always keep the team foremost in mind for it to succeed. If this were a true business partnership, he'd have been summarily fired long ago. John, I love you, and you're a good man. But you are Fucking Up. Please, get your shit together. Do it now. Do it yesterday. Do it for your wife, do it for life. *kick*

Sigh.

G and I won't be hanging out this weekend. Never mind the details on that, because it's so simplistic that it's complicated. Suffice it to say that I'll be hanging with my kids, visiting with friends and family, and relaxing this weekend. Once I go back to work, I may have to leave my kids with sitters on the weekends, though I despise the idea. So, I intend to enjoy what time I can get, and that time is now.

Really though, he needs to have some time to himself, too. Time for fixing his car, going hunting, going fishing, doing stuff that doesn't involve me. There is no law that says we have to do stuff together every single weekend, just like there is no law that says he has to call me before Thursday night each week, or even when he SAYS he'll call. There's no law about a lot of things.

The nasty generic smokes I bought last week are about to be a dim memory. I found a different generic brand that are ALMOST as good as Marlboro, but at $12.99 a carton, plus tax. Cheeeeep. Shut up, I know I need to quit. Do you want me ripping people's heads off at a time like this? I didn't think so. Anyway, as I was saying, I like these even better than the USA Gold's I've been smoking for two or three years, and they're about $6 cheaper per carton than even those. In fact, my sister picked up a half-cigarette I'd left in the ashtray (put out halfway because my HotPocket went ding in the nuker - never go grocery shopping hungry!) without really looking at it. She's so used to butting her smokes half way and coming back to them later, it was kind of automatic for her. She's also used to my filters being white, not brown like her Marlboro's. She didn't make a face, didn't stop and look at it like it tasted like weedkiller. She smoked it, never noticing it wasn't hers. Voila! New brand found.

I love my sister so much. Do you know what she did for me today? She took a bag of my trash home with her. Now, that's love.

See, last Sunday night, the kids and I completely forgot to set the trash out for Monday morning pick up. I noticed the error around midnight, but was tired and in a lot of pain, so I blew it off. "I'll just have Harley do it in the morning, before school" I thought to myself. Well, guess who severely overslept on Monday morning? Yuppers, that would be me. I couldn't sleep because of the pain, so was brain dead until ten AM. Naturally, Trash Man had come and gone. Well, I live in Housing, dontcha know. And in Housing, if you don't set your trash out, they check behind your house. If there happens to be bags or any kind of trash outside the can at all, they will remove the trash for you. And then give you a bill for $35, whether you like it or not. If they see no trash outside the can, lift the lid and see you might make it till next Monday without causing an eyesore/attracting critters or bugs, they'll let it go. And since my outside can is full but the lid still shuts, since my inside bag is half full, and since I fear it won't make it until Sunday night, I asked Sis for a favor. She never batted an eye. "Sure Sissy, I can do that."

They have an apartment building, where they include the utilities and provide a dumpster for the tenants, you see. Dumpster. So she's transporting a stinky bag of trash home in the back of her truck, which is enclosed by a camper shell. Like I said, that's real love.

Know what sucks about it, though? Now she no longer owes me a cheesecake. A chocolate chip with chocolate swirls and almond slivers cheesecake. Homemade. I had to give up cheesecake for trash, and that's just WRONG. Dammitall.

I'm really looking forward to the weekend, more than I've looked forward to a weekend in... well, a long time. I hope and pray that when I go back to work, I don't have to take a shitty job that forces me to work all weekend, every weekend. I want to be with my kids. I need a job that will let me be here in the mornings, in the evenings, and on weekends. How am I going to accomplish that in THIS town? I don't know, I really don't. But I have to try with all my might. Because my kids are relaxed, they're doing well in school (lotsa A's!!), they mind when I tell them to do something (mostly, hell, they ARE kids), and life is pretty smooth around here. I sure do hate to funk all that up with a craptastic job schedule.

No one can possibly imagine how good it is to have my kids here full time. Add to that not talking to the Ex every day, not having to worry about his reaction to anything at all, and I'm in heaven, right here in Housing. Sure, I'm supporting all three of us completely on $290 a month and worry about money. Sure, I know I have nasty dates coming in the future to deal with. I know. But it's just not as hard, not as stressful, when you're coming from a place of peace to start with. All that's missing is true fairy tale soulmate love, and I've got this world whipped.

Well, that and a good job. Maybe a huge inheritance from a rich uncle I never knew I had, to go with it. And a nice bonfire party.

Holy shit, we must be getting close to October. I'm fantasizing about bonfire parties again. Weenies and marshmallows and goofy songs and laughter, snuggles and truth or dare, and maybe a bit of drink after the kiddies go to bed. Surrounded by true friends, good family, under a blanket of stars.

Lovely.

 

[Gypsy]

Minou,

When I said what I did about the feedback, what I meant was this: I can't get any kind of advice/feedback on certain situations in my life, because I can't talk about them or pose the questions about them in my journal anymore. Some things are too sacred, too personal to risk, knowing as I do that it's highly possible my journal has been handed out to certain locals like lollipops to kids in a bank drive-thru. Maybe it's never happened, maybe not one single person I know locally or IRL has been reading, besides the chosen few I gave the link to. But better safe than sorry. If HR from Pizza Job #1 gave the link to local managment, my 'enemies' have enough personal information about me with which to potentially get 'revenge'. The things I can't write about, I can't risk under those conditions.

Until I got fired from Pizza Job #1 over my journal, I felt free to write about anything that crossed my mind. Anything. I may have changed some names out of respect, etc. but if I was hurting, angry, confused on an issue, whatever, this is where I came. Not specifically for the feedback, though the feedback was extremely valuable to me. Some of the best advice I've gotten in the past three years came from PM's here. It helped me keep my chin up and keep slogging through when I felt overwhelmed. But most of all, this journal kept me sane, kept me from pounding assholes and losing my job (HA!) or getting arrested...kept me on track to becoming the person I wanted to become.

It's true that I've vented about particular subjects since losing that job. I can guarantee that it was a good thing I had this journal to go to, because if I hadn't, I'd either have continued pacing the floors crying and ranting in fury (scaring the shit out of my kids) or I'd have sincerely scrapped with a couple different people - which wouldn't have been good for me and the kids, either. It's just that I had to place limits on what I could say here, and the things I had to cut from my list of okay subjects haven't gone away.

In any case, I don't depend on PM's or feedback to tell me what kind of person I am. I KNOW what kind of person I am. I know every good deed, every shining moment, every sin, every mistake. I judge me daily, and often come up short of shining goodness. But I also know that I never give up hope of a brighter future than the one I'm living in, I never stop trying to do better in every important way. I know I'm a good mom simply because I love my kids and take the best possible care of them that I can. I do my best to teach them right from wrong, to know their own self worth, the value of a good education, the importance of budgeting, cleanliness. But most of all, I teach them about love, respect, the meaning of a good friend.

My frustration isn't with the lack of adulation in my inbox. It's with my inability to confide in myself here, or to anyone else, a few matters that weigh heavily on my mind.


In any case, it doesn't really matter. I'll know when the time is right, and when it is, I will change where I write. I may or may not bring anyone here along for the ride, I don't know. My life is changing so much recently, it's hard to say what I'll feel or believe is best even six months from now.

For all the friends I've made here via the internet, I know that a screen and miles of geography will always separate. I've had so many people come back into my life in the past 18 months, it's almost eerie. Yes, some of my IRL friends are still miles away, it's true. But the bonds made in person are still there, still real, and still made of love - not adulation. And yet, I cannot confide in them, either. My journal used to take care of what I couldn't say to friends. Used to.

If I could afford a safe to hold notebooks, I already wouldn't be here half as much as I am. I'd be sitting in my bed with my wooden writing box, putting ink to paper, writing down the things on my mind that feel trapped and unresolved. There will never be a PM from a notebook in a safe, no advice save that which I give myself. My words and thoughts would still be locked away, but they wouldn't be locked away inside myself, where it sometimes just isn't safe to keep issues tucked away forever.

In any case, I'm still here for now, albeit still frustrated like a virgin who consistently goes to third base and stops just short of satisfaction.

I'm praying for your father, for you and your entire family. I'm glad your dad made it through the surgery okay, and seems to be doing well. I hope he not only continues on that course, but recovers quickly and bounces back ten times better than his pre-surgery health. I'm glad your sister is coming home for a visit, and that the entire family will have a little time together to celebrate, and to bond even closer than before.


*****

Thorn, Burns, and Sugar-Snit.... Thank you.


*****


I was a good girl tonight. My kitchen is cleaned up, my floor has been sprinkled with powder in preparation for tomorrow morning's vacuuming, my last load of laundry is in the washing machine. The kids and I won't have to dink with housework chores tomorrow afternoon before going off to play, and that makes me happy. I'll throw the whites in the dryer tonight, fold them in the morning, vacuum, shower, and head off to grocery shop. After I get home and put it all away (all alone...ugh), I'll put the lasagne in the oven. By 3:30 or 4:00 PM it'll be ready to eat. Alyssa will already have the dog walked by then, and Harley will be walking in the door. We'll eat, clean up, and be on our way.

I just took another half a muscle relaxer, for this extremely stubborn muscle in my right shoulder blade running up to my neck. Hopefully, by the time the whites are ready to change machines, it will have kicked in. Then I'll lie on the floor with my tennis ball, and try to beat it (roll it?) into submission. Then it's off to lala land. I hope. I need a good night's sleep tonight. I think if I get 8 hours of rest, it'll go a long way toward fixing this muscle.

Alyssa stayed home sick today, Harley did that yesterday. Some kind of 24 hour bug going 'round, I guess. Sick at the stomach, early morning cookie tossing, and/or the runs. Then all better. Since she was feeling well enough after 1 pm to try to steal the remote, I deemed her well enough to help me clean fans.

Ugh. Icky job, but it had to be done. If we don't do it at least every 3 to 6 months, we can surely expect them to die from overheated motors. Now they look better, blow harder on low than they were doing on medium, I feel more secure that I won't have to figure out where to come up with the money to replace them anytime soon, and they even smell better. You heard me. Ever took a box fan apart and cleaned it after six months of constant use? They get weird smells. The box fan I use in my living room to help push the A/C down the hall had a doggy smell that I never noticed until I took it apart for cleaning. It's... weird. And rather gross.

So, my non-everyday chore for the week is done. How can I clean so much and still have my house look lived in instead of immaculate?


Time to get rolling.

 

[Gypsy]

Luck? Stress? Lucky stress?

My busy busy day ended up being busy in a completely different way than planned. I freaking hate when that happens.


I was supposed to pick my sister up after my P.T. appointment (she lives 45 minutes away), and drive her butt all over the state to get her drivers license renewed, get her insurance paid on her new (used) car, then back home. (She's a straight shot south, 45 minutes. To get her license, we have to drive 40 east of her house. The insurance company is about 45 minutes west of her house. The drive is going to be similar to drawing a T, upside down.)

I almost didn't make it to P.T.

I took Harley to school, and during the brief drive, he commented yet again how much he hates this car. I told him he shouldn't say such things where the car can hear it, because he might piss it off - and it would break down just to be ornery. Just to prove to us that we really, really like it, really we do. He was rolling his eyes and grinning, of course.

Back home, gulp some coffee, make a few phone calls, then out the door again, headed to the far north end of town for P.T. I made it about a block before the problem started - it didn't want to go into any gear. I ended up forcing it into second using both hands and all my strength. Then the serious grinding began. By the time I got to my destination, I was nearly in tears with worry and frustration. Have you ever had to take off in third gear? It's do-able, if you know how, but you look retarded as hell for your efforts, and uphill is nigh on impossible. When you can't take off from a stop sign because you cannot get it into gear without a strenuous fight, people honk and look at you like you don't know how to drive, and should get the hell off the road. And all that awful grinding...it made my teeth ache, I swear. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. I could easily picture the teeth of my flywheel being chewed off. A real possibility, that.

When I left P.T., I headed to midtown to find Dale, at work. Naturally, he has no clue how to work on a standard transmission. Well, it ain't the tranny, my friend, it's the clutch. Don't ask me how I know, I just KNOW. It's the clutch, damnit.

Long story short, I was both right and wrong. My clutch hadn't gone bad (I knew that, but thought maybe something slipped out of adjustment), the slave cylinder did. I'd have never known to point to that, but I did know that the problem was clutch related, so THERE.

Anyway, from eleven this morning until nearly nine pm tonight, I sweated bullets and crossed my fingers, asking what I was being punished for, and where's my good luck and prosperity in this, helllloooo?

Okay, so if I'd made it out of state and out on that little travelled road Sis and I were going to be on before this happened, that would have been decidedly worse. So, if it had to happen today, I got lucky in that it happened not only in town, but near my personal mechanic (for all the good it did me early in the day). And getting help would have been decidedly more expensive later, too - and I'm so very, very broke. No free labor, that far from home.

Crap. Brakes on Saturday, slave cylinder today. What's tomorrow? *sigh*

Anyway, the guys were scared to work on it, but Dale took pity on me and gave it a shot, anyway. I thought I'd thrown a part at it for nothing around 8 pm, because Dale had given up and it was still broken, though the new part was in place. Then Randy popped up on the cb (another stroke of luck - I'd fixed my cb, AND he was in town in his rig), and I asked for his advice - after all, he and I drove a stick with a hydraulic clutch back in '85. Plus, I think his craptastical Ranger had a hydraulic clutch in it.

He showed up a few minutes later, bobtailing down my street. Bless his heart, he nearly lost his antenna and stacks to low branches for his effort. He jumped in the car, pumped the clutch, and proclaimed the lines to have air. Dale protested that he'd bled the lines, and no more air was coming out. Randy insisted there was still air, so Dale got the light and tools back out, and opened the line again. This time, we opened the clutch master cylinder and just kept pouring brake fluid in as it poured out the other end, for about 3 minutes. Then we went through the whole "pump the pedal, hold it, do it again" routine.

My car now shifts like magic. Praise be.

Randy wouldn't have been in town at 8 pm, but he had an early emergency load at 9:30 this morning, and was getting back to town about the time he normally gets to the other end of the line. More good luck.

I'll now be able to make my hearing at the courthouse in the morning, without the two mile walk. Can I get an amen? Whew...

I have a tentative game plan in place regarding the ex parte situation, though I can't tell it here, much to my annoyance. The judge won't hear the case tomorrow, because the Ex hasn't been served with papers. And that's okay, I guess. I'll still show up, and it'll be rescheduled.

Oh yeah...the Ex called the kids Saturday. He tried his very bestest to goad me into a screaming match, he really did. The old me would have given him what he wanted, too. But not anymore. I was clipped, cool, business-like, and told him how it is. I need his address. He refused to give it to me, because I told him the truth "Yes, as a matter of fact I DO have papers to serve you." He was quite derogatory and highly reminiscent of a flaming troll when he said "You want to serve me with papers? That's fine, do it. But I ain't giving you my address, you want it? Find it yourself!" That's okay asshole, I'll find a way.

He demanded to know if I was going to allow him to speak to his children. I coldly and calmly reminded him that I never once prevented him from speaking to them - his kids didn't want to speak to him the last time he called (the day after his "episode"). If they wanted to speak to him, fine. If not, I'm not going to force them, and it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with HIM.

The kids did speak to him, so they could know for sure he was alright. Alyssa wanted to know why he never called to say he was leaving the state and say goodbye. He swore he tried to call from a payphone the night before he left, but no one answered. Horseshit. Caller ID, dude. "Why didn't you leave a message if no one answered?" The obvious lie, following the pause and stumble - "I don't know, I just didn't." He didn't leave a message because he never called.

Both kids were rattled for awhile after talking to him, and Harley has been angry ever since, until this morning. He seems to be okay now, they both do. They're home, they're safe, and they don't have to deal with him if they don't want to.

It's nearly midnight, and I have to get my arse outta bed in the morning early enough to get past the stare-at-the-wall-while-sipping-coffee stage of waking up by 8 AM. I need sleep, and a pain free, stress free morning, if possible. Hell, maybe I'll get really lucky and the judge will just go ahead and grant that restraining order, anyway.

Exceptionally good luck and prosperity has been my ten times a day wish for the past few months. Maybe the universe is finally hearing me, and starting to come through. Scoff if you like, considering my income - but note this: I haven't had anything shut off yet, the car is still running and legal, and there is still toilet paper in the bathroom. Every time I get down to my last dollar, I get lucky and someone hands me a twenty to scrape by another week.

Ya'll should have listened to me when I told you to focus on an object. If I can ever overcome my natural tendency toward pessimism, I'll quit rolling my eyes at myself for trying to focus on a check for millions.


P.S.
You should have seen Harley's face when I told him the car broke down today...right after I dropped him off at school. Which, of course, was right after our conversation about not stating you hate the car while you're in the car, and why....

 

[Gypsy]

I wish I were high

I'm just in a mood to get high and stare at a candle's light flickering and bouncing on the ceiling. Just think, pondering, turning things over in my mind, searching for new perspectives, meanings I missed in the moment. It's something I like to do, when I get the chance. Somtimes, the very best epiphanies happen at times like those. It's been a long time, so it's hard to remember for sure.

Sugar? The mother in me wants so very much to hug the little girl in you, to brush her hair, and have her snuggle in my lap and watch the wind blow through the trees.



I just found a cd I made a long while back. I know what I must've been thinking about when I made it, because as I sit here listening to it, it's giving me bittersweet longings and chills. I want to smile and cry and I can't, and I don't even know why or how it's possible that a handful of songs can evoke so much emotion in me that's supposed to be buried and gone.

Ever have someone in your life that you KNOW that everything that every storybook love is made of is possible with, and yet know that it'll never be? It tears your heart out by the roots, but at the same time, it's such a joy. Because you know that when it's over, you'll know that you were witness to the fable, that it exists, and life isn't really meaningless, after all. You just have to be patient and wait for the right one, the right time. More patient than you thought you ever could be. It's excrutiating. And yet, every instinct screams to you that it's worth it, it's so worth it.

But the waiting can drive you mad, if you let it. Don't let it. Spend the time waiting by getting to know yourself, the way you get to know a very best friend. Help her. Love her, be there for her. Wrap your arms around her when she needs to be held. Take her out for coffee and people watching when she's been inside too long. Take her out with friends and welcome her into the group. Teach her to wallow in the quiet joy of a simple pleasure; hot coffee on a cold morning, a sunset that takes your breath away, seeing love shine in the eyes of a child, watching puppies play, feeling exquisite music wash over you and float you away, goosebumps on your skin as you sink into a deliciously warm bubble bath. The love and pleasure that can be found every single day, if you just look for it, partake of it, will fill your heart if you welcome it.

And then you look around to realize that while you weren't focusing on the wait, time went by, and it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was pretty interesting, and you have this great friend to share it all with.

I listen to this cd, to this choice selection of music, and that secret place in my heart opens wide. I'm not sure if I'm chagrined or relieved, because it's a bittersweet pain I feel. The love I bury, hidden deep inside me, is welling out of the prison I keep it locked away in, and I'm forced to remember how good, how strong I felt when it belonged to me. I want to stop the cd so as to stop the memories, stop the emotions that are flowing out of an old wound and filling my veins, my bones, my pores...but I can't. I can't make myself shut it off. I want to feel the ache, the power, the madness, if only for a moment. It'll be stuffed back into its hidden place of darkness again all too soon, and I'll wake in the morning with this moment already forgotten. I have to forget, because if I don't, the sweet falls off the bitter for much, much too long. It changes me into something hard and cold, something unfeeling. Being unable to feel scares the hell out of me.

I portray the emotions I allow myself to feel, and I don't want to be the personification of pain and lonliness. I want to be sunshine and light, sweetness, a joy. I want to be that person to every person I meet, I want to be that person to my children. But most of all, I want to be that person to myself.

And so I teach myself to be the person I want to be, and not the person my past would have me be. I give myself permission to put away the pain, to let go of hate and anger, to love myself and to love others. I march on through my life by living in the moment, looking to the future, and glancing at the past. I look at myself through that glass of time, and I think "Hey. Look at that. I lived through that and I'm still a good person. Is that cool, or what?"

I've had to let go of love more than once, in my life. It's never easy. The bigger the love, the harder it is to let go. I suck at letting go a little more than others, I think. I never quite manage it completely. I selfishly keep a piece of it for myself, hidden away in a velvet box in my heart, where no one can see but me. Maybe I shouldn't, but I'd like to think that by keeping a tiny bit of the best part of the love nestled deep inside, I honor it for what it was, what it could have been, and what it still is today. A part of me.

I can't forget the bad things in my past, though I'd like to, though I try. Even when the good things end, I think its a sad disservice to myself and to life itself to not hold on to just a tiny bit of it, to cherish it in quiet moments, to honor its meaning. To truly love has been the sweetest agony I've ever known, for I knew from the first that it would not be mine to keep.

But someday it will be. Someday, it will be mine to keep. And I will revel in the glory of it.

 

[Gypsy]

The Meaning of Life

I remember clearly, the night the Gypsies cursed me. I wasn't privvy to the exact nature of the curse, only that I'd seriously pissed them off. They took off before the crack of dawn, leaving their granddaughter to break the news to me that I'd blown it with them. They were very angry, angry enough to leave. Angry enough to curse me. And I was no longer welcome in the family home.

All because I wouldn't sit down and listen to them before appeasing my paranoia by going home for a minute, checking on my sister, and un-freaking.

I've mentioned this Gypsy curse enough times in my life for certain people to think I positively live my life as though the curse rules all. I don't, and never have. It's just that there are moments when I KNOW the curse is in play.

Something else I've always known about the curse is that it was never meant to harm me as much as force me to always try to find it, force me to think and rethink. And it has forced me to look for answers.

Boy oh boy. I thought Mr. Silent's answers were a long time coming. And I thought Randy's answers regarding our divorce were, too. But I found out something that both coincides with that marriage, and also predates it. Suddenly so many things I thought I already had figured out have been explained, and made so much clearer.

With all the answers I've gotten in the past three years, I have to wonder.... Is the curse broken, or just coming full circle to play itself out?

When I was in Indiana and my previous custody battle was in full swing, I was pushed to the very edge of madness. I nearly snapped from the pressure, the torture, the guilt, and the need I went through. I begged, literally begged for an end to it, by the time it was over. Imagine having a gun held to your head and begging for your life and the life of your unborn child. That's how I begged.

And then I ended up here - the one place I was trying hardest to get away from. I couldn't understand it, and was bitterly angry, and desperate for a reason it had to be this way. I begged God for a sign to show me that it was a grand design of some kind, that good would come of it, at the very least. And I got my sign, practically lit in neon.

Ever since, I've been kind of kicking back for the ride. I stress, worry, and try to control my life, but the harder I try to manuever my life into the mold I want it to be in, the farther I get from that goal. I'd give up the notion of what kind of job I want, if I could just get a clue as to what I could do instead that would still provide me with enough income to support us functionally, and me still be able to be with the kids when they need me here. I'm still waiting on that divine shove in the right direction. It'll come, I know it will. I just have to be patient. Patience isn't my strongest suit, and I'm not very good at just sitting still and waiting for things to come to me, so I might be here awhile.

But as to the Why part of being here, that part I gave in to, quite some time back. And the more I give in to it, the bigger it gets.

There is no greater gift to my life than the gift of understanding. There are so many who still do not understand me, and I find myself startled to realize that while I was on a mission to make others understand me for years, I no longer give it a thought. This is the first time it's even occurred to me that people don't understand me, for quite a long while.

What makes it all worth it is that I now understand so many things that have happened to me. I understand why they happened, I understand where different people were coming from when they did the things that had the fallout effect of hurting me so terribly. I understand why Mr. Silent went silent. Twice. I understand why Randy left me. I understand hundreds of different incidents that occurred during our marriage. I understand why he used to be so judgemental, so quick to assume a girl was a whore for the most ridiculous of reasons, why he was so afraid of our connection.

I understand a million things about mine and Christal's friendship that didn't make sense at the time. I even understand a bit about why she is the way she is.

I understand my mother better. I'm really glad for that, too, because without that understanding, I had lost my ability to forgive her. And I want to be able to forgive her. I want her to be able to forgive herself.

I've grown to understand a bit about my father, though not as much as I would have liked. I wish I'd found my strength sooner, maybe I would have had the time I wasted.

Most of all, I've learned to understand, respect, and love myself. I've learned to forgive myself for all the things I allowed to happen when I was a child and helpless. I've learned to forgive myself for the horrible choices I made as an adult, and was weak and pathetic because I was too busy operating from a place of anger and hatred to see life for what it really is.

I'm still weak and pathetic, still lost and confused a lot of the time. But I have a peace inside myself, a feeling of contentedness that far outweighs all the negatives that surround me. Even amidst the drama and chaos that makes up my life as I go along, I am in a place of calm, because I know.

I know the answers I sought, and even some I didn't know I needed to seek. I know I'm a whole person who still believes in true love, but isn't an empty shell without it. I know there have been moments in my life when I've touched someone in a positive way, and helped them be a better person.

Maybe it sounds crazy, but I think the Gypsy curse was something I had to earn my way out of, and maybe I'm finally doing that. I know that with my job and money situation, my current geography, etc. it probably sounds completely nuts - I'm nowhere near what I want in so many ways. But I swear, I feel closer to the deep and true happiness, peace, serenity and loving place I've sought every day of my life, than I've ever been. It's so close I can touch it, taste it.

It's so close, I have to wonder if we've reached the Apocolypse. Boy, that'd really make those Gypsies laugh, wouldn't it?

 

[Gypsy]

On to the next phase.

I had court today. After a two hour wait for my name to be called, I entered the courtroom. His Honor asked me a bunch of yes/no questions, then asked me to state for the record why I was requesting an Order of Protection. The court advocate had advised all of us (who were there for the same reason - restraining orders) that at this point, we should read aloud, word for word, the statements we had written when we requested the ex parte.

I had nearly four typed pages worth. I thought that might be a bit more than the judge's patience level would tolerate, and asked him if he wanted me to read it all. He asked me to just state in my own words why I was asking for the Order.

So I did.

The court reporter stared.

The judge glanced up at me several times, then lowered his eyes.

The court advocate just sat there in the corner, listening, not liking me.

And then the judge asked me if I understood that an Order of Protection is NOT a change in custody, that I'd have to file a Motion to Modify for that, to which I replied "Yes, sir."

He told me he was granting my request for a Restraining Order, that it would expire in April of '05, and I could leave.

He's really good at dismissing people, this judge.

The court advocate immediately handed me a paper outlining when I would need to reaaply for the Restraining order to keep it from lapsing, and also advised me to file a Motion to Modify as quickly as possible. I told her I was already on it, we were just waiting to get the restraining order first, to protect the kids in case he decided to come back from Florida in a rage because he'd been served with papers stating I intend to take his custody away. *breathe*

And then I left.

And now I feel...drained. Relieved, yes. Step One is now complete, time to move on to the hard part - going after full custody. But now he can't come into town and demand to exercise a legal right to my kids. If he were to take them now, I could have him arrested. I could have him arrested for speaking to them in public, in fact.

I told Alyssa of the outcome, and she hugged me so hard, and said Thank You, Mom. That helped me, a lot.

But I still feel drained. Almost emotionless. I appear depressed, apparently (or so I was told), but I'm not. I'm just... I've downshifted. I think what's wrong (for lack of a better term) is that I need to cry. Not because I'm scared or stressed or sad, but simply as a tension release. I guess I've been tense about this. Maybe a tad worried, because the LAST time I tried to get an ex parte (with a black eye, no less), it was denied. Without this restraining order, we were really vulnerable, and I've never forgotten it, even when I forgot it.

So now, I'm just....slumping, exhaling, and needing a nap. And calling my lawyer about that Motion to Modify.

Oddly enough, for the first time since Sept. 18th, I actually feel scared when I think about it all. Why?

 

[Gypsy]

A week's gone, and nothing happened. Praise Be!

Holy cow. Who would have ever guess from my first 50 entries that I'd ever dip to only one post per week. I'm falling down on the job, I guess.

Let's see. The Ex called last Saturday to talk to his kids. Since I am so fucking wonderful, truly a good person and fabulous human being, and therefore an absolutely awesome mother who recognizes her childrens' needs, I let him talk to them. If I haven't already, I'd like to note for the record that ever since he got served with those ex parte orders, he hasn't asked to speak to me.

I am so okay with that.

When he last called, there was no way of telling whether he'd gotten the actual restraining order in the mail yet or not. Especially since he never let on to the kids that he'd been served about going to court (for once, he played by the rules and kept the kids out of it). So I don't know if he'll have the same attitude this coming weekend or not, but as long as he makes for pleasant conversation and easing my children's minds that their father (my daughter has begun to refer to him as her sperm donor, but I'm sure it's only a passing phase she's going through) is okay, I'll continue to allow him to speak to them over the telephone. The first time he upsets them, he's done. Yes, I have that power now. And I've already warned him, even before the restraining order was granted - if they want to speak to him, fine. But I'll never force them to speak to him, so he'd better act like a human being to them.

What else is new?

Hmm. G still hasn't called, and he's now nine days overdue. Golly gee whillikers, I'm crushed. Not. If this is his easy way out of "dumping" me, then by all means...take it. It's easier for me, too. I love it when things work out that way.

I rented seven movies for seven dollars for seven days, Sunday. The kids didn't have school last Friday or yesterday (Monday), so I let them stay up watching scary movies Sunday night. I even let Alyssa's boyfriend come over to watch them with us, agreeing to drive him home afterward. His stepmom dropped him off and indicated (flat out stated) that if I was too tired to mess with driving him home after the movies were done, it was okay for him to spend the night. He would stay on the couch, it'd be okay. I swallowed my tongue, coughed, and said...uhmmm...okay.

Yeah, right. Over my cold, dead, worm-eaten body is her boyfriend spending the night in my house. HELL no. I'm not about to send that message to my voluptuous 14 year old OR the boys at school, nor do I want to set that precedent. No. Fucking. Way.

So we watched To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar first. Brittany had never seen it, and I rented it especially for her to see. Did I mention Britt spent the night? Oh yeah, sorry. So, anyway, a little while after that was over, Frankie (Alyssa's flavor of the month) showed up. Then we popped in The Others. And of course, Britt and Alyssa screamed. Loudly. A lot. Oh my god did those girls scream... I was convinced the cops were going to bust the door down to save them from my vile murder attempts. After The Others, we popped in Signs, because of course, Alyssa is terrified of "aliems". She actually screamed more during The Others, but she still screamed about twenty times. I had a headache.

And then I drove Frankie home at 3:30 in the morning. Fuckin right I did. Good grief, what was that woman thinking?

Yesterday we hung out and watched How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days. Cute. Tonight We'll watch Men of Honor or something. Wait! We still have the Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood. I haven't seen either of those, yet. And of course, the 7th movie was (drum roll please) The Emperor's New Groove. Groovy. And yeah, I confess, I get a kick out of that one.

I have hot wings in the oven. I've been suffering some pretty serious cravings just lately, and one of them was hot wings. Another is chocolate cheesecake. I keep trying to eat things that SHOULD take care of those cravings (spicy, sweet/chocolate) but it's not working. Not working at all. What sucks about these cravings is that the only decent hot wings you can pop from freezer to oven are at Aldi's - halfway across town. And the cheesecake I'm craving (because Sissy doesn't have time to make me one) is at WalMart. I hate going to both of those places, but I've already gone to Aldi's 'cause I can't stand it anymore. I KNOW my weak ass is gonna end up fighting crowds at Wally World tomorrow. I'm so pathetic.

I just sent Randy off to work with a nice meal in his belly. He hadn't eaten since 7 pm last night, nearly 24 hours without food. I fed him lasagne, salad, and by request, a turkey and cheese sandwich. And I'm here to tell you, that lasagne was a huge helping. He ate nearly every bite, plus emptied the mug of milk I brought him. He kissed my cheek and said "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Awwww.

I plan to go see my friend D tomorrow, if things work out the way I plan. I could go see her for awhile, then drive home about the time the kids get here. I miss her. Miss her terrible. I needs me a fix.

Still no job worth applying for listed in the want ads or on the state site. Crap. I might end up working for...wait. I ain't saying. Suffice it to say, they use...uhm... people to bring the food to your car. There. That gives an idea of the kind of place without naming it. Just in case. Hey, don't yell at me. They start you at minimum, but there are tips to be had. Maybe not like when you deliver pizza, but still. It could help. I know I can't handle waiting tables. My back and legs and neck would be in agony in about an hour, I really don't think I could handle it physically. I'll figure something out.

Ding. The hot wings are done. I am SO outta here.

 

[Gypsy]

First off, I'd just like to send a warm hug and good wishes and lots of smiles toward Minou. You go, girl. You go. *hug*

Sugar-Snit, I'm still trying to get used to looking for you at your new journal, but I'm getting better at it. I actually checked there for updates twice today. I must say, though...doing the whole comment thing on that site is a huge pain in the keester. I might just stick to email, girl.

My dog needs a bath, really really bad. No joke. For months I was physically unable. Now I'm able, but still find myself in the predicament of having no room in the budget to take her to the groomers. Remember, I don't pay big bucks to have her groomed, I pay $15 to bathe and blow dry her myself. And I trim her tail. And her nails. I just don't try to cut the rest of her hair. I learned my lesson the last time... oy. But right now, $15 might as well be $150.

My sister and brother in law are in my thoughts right now. I'm praying for them both. I don't feel at liberty to detail their mess, but suffice it to say it's gotten pretty bad. I'm worried. I keep trying to have faith that they'll both be okay. I wish I could put down my thoughts more completely, I really feel the urge to talk about it... but I just don't feel right about that.

Much love, Sister. Much love. Hang in there.

It's now been a month since Randy told Christal he wants a divorce, they divvied up their property, and he moved into the rental trailer they own. He's struggling madly to pay off certain bills so he can set aside the cash to pay for the lawyer. I wish I could help, but even if I could, I couldn't. It just wouldn't be right, somehow. He's still answering to her in a lot of ways, because he's trying to maintain the peace that settled over the family when he told her he wants a divorce. He's trying to keep it amicable, and I don't blame him. I remember trying my best to do the same thing, and for the same reasons. I hope he has better luck at it than I did, in the long run.

I had a great visit with D yesterday. I love spending time with her, especially when it's just the two of us, uncensored. She and I click so well that it's hard to believe we spent fifteen years apart. We got to talking about all kinds of things, and the subject of best friends came up. I told her that I have two best friends...one male, one female. She's one of them. She smiled that smile that told me that though I meant the words and wasn't trying to be cheesy, they meant something to her. AND it sounded cheesy. *grin* I'm okay with that, I've always been a mushy old sap, anyway. No use in trying to deny it.

I find myself in a very strange place in my life. I have financial crisis, drama in the form of a custody battle, and a medical settlement still pending. But I also feel so calm and peaceful that it's almost eerie. I have my kids, 7 days a week. It took me nearly five years to have this, and while it's no big deal, it's also the world. The world. Mr. Silent? Are you reading this? Please be reading this. Please know where I am, how happy I am, and that I made it with my sanity intact. Thank you for helping me hold on to it so I could get here.

I also have two best friends who are real friends in every sense of the word. I actually know and believe with every fiber of my being that these two people truly care about me, love me as I am, and want to be in my life. I honestly never thought I'd find that here. Not here. And wouldn't you know it? Both people are from my past. So I guess I really didn't make any NEW close friends, did I? So I guess I was both right AND wrong about that one. (Yes, I've been reading over old entries.)

I catch myself sitting and staring into space sometimes, just lost in thought. Where my thoughts were once consumed with anger, bitterness, vengeance, and just plain old ass-whooping, now they're filled with peace and love. I catch myself smiling at nothing in particular at all, just feeling content. Isn't that amazing? It is to me. Are you watching, Daddy? Do I make you proud?

I miss my father. I miss the moments we should have shared, but never got to. I miss the way his hair fell over his forehead, that damned cowlick he passed on to me ruining his neatly combed 'do. I miss his smile, his laughter, the way he could sing just like Frankie Avalon one minute and do a deep baritone the next. I miss the goofy way he'd dance to those old records that he played on that behemoth of a cabinet stereo. I still miss the way he used to call me Shug. Every time I watch The Color Purple, I get startled the first time Shug Avery makes her appearance. I almost kind of jump, expecting to hear my father's voice. Silly, huh?

I can't remember every having Thanksgiving dinner with my father, and it being a joyful occasion for me. I hate that. I hate Thanksgiving, and it's coming. The anniversary of my father's death is coming. It is the only sadness that touches my heart, the only longing I cannot fix. What I would give to feel my daddy hold me, just one more time. Just once, to hear him whisper in my ear "I love you, Shug". I've seen tears in my father's eyes more times than I can count, and I know I was the cause of many more I never saw. I'm sorry Daddy. Do you forgive me?

I forgive you.

I pray with all my might that the Ex really is getting REAL help down there in Florida. I hope and pray he's not just going through the motions, that he's learning the truth in counseling, that he wants to be better. Not for me, not even for him, I could care less about him, personally. For my children. My beautiful, wonderful children, who will someday have to grow up and forgive their father, if they can. I hope it's sooner, rather than later, for their sakes. Please God?

It's funny, about those two best friends. One I swore I didn't want back in my life, but he came crashing back in, anyway. And look at where we are now - we've learned and healed so much that it's indescribable. And the other, I thought would never, ever speak to me again as long as she lived..but she finally did. And look where we are now. Having D back in my life would never have happened if I'd stayed in Indiana like I wanted. Thank you, God.

And while this journal has caused me not only the job I lost, but jobs I could have had... I couldn't have made it this far without it. I needed to pour so much out of me that was weighing me down, twisting me with hatred and pain, and I poured it here. Because I did, there became room in me for the love, peace, and contentment I've sought for so many years. I honestly don't think I would have started this journal, if I'd stayed in Indiana. I wouldn't have had time to, for starters. I wouldn't have taken the time to read past Ali's journal. I wouldn't have learned something about improv. I wouldn't have made the friends I've made through this site. I'd have missed out on so very much, and that would be a terrible loss. Thank you, Kevin.

Thank you, God.

 

[Gypsy]

Was I just celebrating how low-key my stress levels were? PART 1

What the hell was I thinking? I OBVIOUSLY forgot that Murphy reads my journal.

Friday. 3 PM. I'm supposed to be taking one kid to her friend's house, and one to their cousin's house to spend the night (kids' request), and I myself have made plans to go out of town for the night. My Departure ETA: 5 PM. Return ETA: Somewhere between 11 AM and 3 PM Saturday.

So first, my daughter walks in the door from school and tells me that she changed her mind about spending the night at Britt's. Too much going on there, she says. I know the circumstances, and I understand totally. I ask her if she wants to spend the night at her cousin's with her brother, and she decides she has to think about it. She didn't finish until 4:30 PM. That would be approximately half an hour AFTER I should have left the house with kids and bags in tow. STRESS.

My son walks in the door fifteen minutes later than he should have after school. He immediately looks at me with a horrified expression, and emphatically states that Oh My God, I Have To Go Back To School To Get That Paper For My Homework. Before I can say a single word to him, he dashes for the borrowed bicycle on the front porch, and is GONE. I shout after him "Please Hurry, Come Straight Back!" I walk back inside and see the clock. STRESS.

Now, the day before all this, my sister had popped by for a visit. She's STRESSED. Her husband is causing more STRESS than should be legal, for starters. And now he tells her that, although he told her previously he'd be home to watch the boys while she worked all weekend, Now He Cannot, He Must Play Music. And she still has to work, if she misses work she can be fired. She needs a sitter on Saturday, from around 5:30 AM until around 6:30 PM.

My sister needs my help, and she rarely asks. I've already made plans to be out of town, to help someone else who needs my help. I mull it over, and ask her whether she'd be comfortable with my daughter doing the babysitting until somewhere between 11 AM and 3ish PM, when I'd return. She said yes, Alyssa has handled them before. So I say "Okay, One Of Us Will Be Here." STRESS.

I discuss the situation with my daughter, and she agrees to take the boys Saturday morning until I get home. Even though she'll have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to be here by 5:30, still she agrees. I know she doesn't WANT to, but she's a damned good kid like that.

At 4:15 on Friday, I discover that although the kids told me they'd call Jeremy to ask about spending the night, they haven't. ACK! I make Alyssa call and make sure they can even go, and ask if they can bring her back for babysitting. Green light. My heart rate slows back down a bit.

Harley finally returns from his Homework Mission around 4:40. No one (except me) has packed for the night. They don't care what time it is, or that I MUST be a certain place by 5:00 PM in order to complete my plans. I start to get snippy with the "Please Hurry Up" speeches.

Fast forward.

At 8 AM on Saturday morning, I was dozing fitfully, and suddenly awoke in a panic. I'd been dreaming that my daughter forgot her keys at home, and couldn't get in the house. And my sister was dropping my three unruly nephews off at 5:30 AM. And no one could get IN. I get to a payphone as quickly as I can. I cannot remember Jeremy's number to save my life. Nearly five dollars later, I've called two different Information numbers to procure said phone number, dial it, and speak to Jaime. Alyssa had forgotten her key. The kids are there. All of them. J and J are saddled with my two kids, my three nephews, and their own three small children. I freak out and apologize, but there is exactly SQUAT I can do about it until I get home. And I'm a long, long way from home. Feeling guilty and just plain awful, I hang up. STRESS.

I make it back to town, pick the kids up, and come home. Everyone is hungry. No one has been fed, though it is now 4:30 in the fucking afternoon. I was going to go back and pay J and J for keeping the kids (all my money was at home), but now that I've discovered the hunger issue AND that the four boys had been sent outside for two hours -LOCKED OUT- with no food, nothing to drink, no access to the potty, and a busy fucking street to play on, forget it. I'm just trying to keep myself from being arrested for murder. STRESS.

I feed the gang. They are a very hungry gang, so I feed them again fifteen minutes later. I go to the grocery store and buy more food.

My sister comes in after work to collect her children, and take them trick or treating in Their Town. She's explaining to me while she's painting their faces that she's scared to leave them with her husband while she works tomorrow (Sunday), because Eric pissed John off so bad the other day that John slapped Eric in the face. Slapped him so hard that he split the boy's lip. I sit on my hands and proceed to count to twenty, seven times. Must. Not. Commit. Murder. I know Eric is a handful and can incite the Pope to rage, but spank him on his butt or stand him in a corner, NEVER HIT HIS FACE, MOTHERFUCKER, BECAUSE NOW YOU MUST DIE.

STRESS.

So I agree to babysit again Sunday. In fact, why don't you just grab some clothes while you're near home, and come back tonight? Ya'll spend the night, it'll be easier for you. She agrees, and invites Harley to trick or treat since she's coming back. Sister thanks me, and loads the boys into the car. And her car WILL. NOT. START.

After much discussion and panic, it is decided that she will wash her clothing while wearing jammies I provide, and wear them again in the morning. Borrow my makeup, you'll be fine. But I really, really have to go, because I promised three people that I'd go to the races tonight. Tonight is the final race of the year, and I HAVE TO TAKE ALYSSA. I owe her, for babysitting. We ended up leaving 2 1/2 hours after the first heat, but we finally got there. We had a good time, though it got quite cold between midnight and one. I finally got to bed at around 2:30 Sunday morning, and then got up at 5:30 to drive Sis to work.

 

[Gypsy]

Stress, Part Two

My clean house was destroyed. There were dirty dishes and cups everywhere. Trash on the counters, table and floor. Dishes thrown helter skelter in the sink with FOOD STILL ON THEM! Muddy tracks in my kitchen. Was I pissed? You bet your sweet ass.

The boys woke up, and I proceeded to go all Drill Sergeant on them. It took four boys an hour to gather the mess, then wash, dry, and put away all the dishes. They wiped the counters, table, and stove. They swept the floor. They took out the trash. And THEN I let them have breakfast. And made them wash their bowl and spoons afterward. I'm a BITCH.

And so our day began.

They fought all day. Slamming doors, screaming fights, and hair pulling. I finally lost all patience at 3:30 and did some yelling of my own. Thank God I started supper at noon, is all I can say.

I picked my sister up at 6:00. I told her Happy Birthday and kissed her cheek. I let her know that her kids were showered and ready for trick or treating (in my town). Supper is ready, it won't burn before you get back. Enjoy a little time with your kids, then I'll feed you pot roast. Oh, and I bought you some cheesecake. That's when she proclaimed her undying love for me, yet again.

Faces painted (again) and out the door they went. This time, her $#$^$# car started, and off they went. When they returned, I fed everyone, and was about to make a small pot of coffee to go with the cheesecake for sis and I. But, alas, Eric was being a complete dick to everyone, and it was time for her to go. So I sent her cheesecake with her. Note: Though I got somewhat irritated at Eric for his behavior, in his defense, he'd not had his medication for two days. And he did TRY to be good (sorta, when I reminded him), but once the meds were out of his system, he turned into Demon Spawn.

In the middle of all this, the Ex called to talk to the kids. Alyssa confronted him on an issue that's been upsetting her for a few weeks. She cried and wanted to punch something afterward, because she knew he was lying. She flat out caught him in a lie. She's so disgusted by the truth she nearly threw up. It's devastating to her, and she needed me to sit and listen to her, she needed to vent and cry. In the middle of the chaos, I was unable to comply. When the boys were gone trick or treating, I focused on her entirely, and she did feel slightly better afterward. But the anger will never leave her, over this. How would you feel if you were a young teenage girl, and discovered your father had been having sex in YOUR bed when you weren't there? And left used condoms under your bed? And lotion on top of the tv? Would you feel violated? She sure does, and I don't blame her. I cannot fix this for her, no matter what. I want very badly to kill her father.

I cleaned up the mess from supper, tried to spend a little time with my kids in the quiet. No go. They were tired, stressed, and more cranky than I've seen them in awhile. In fact, we all were. Are. Our routine was severely disrupted with three boys who are used to running wild while their mother is at work. They still don't remember to use their Inside Voices unless you remind them every two seconds. Every door was meant to be slammed. Candy wrappers naturally belong on the floor where you are sitting. Cartoons must play 24 hours a day, at full volume. (If you turn that tv up ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to tie you up and leave you in a closet until your mother gets here!!) Every cup, spoon, saucer, plate and bowl in the house MUST BE DIRTY by noon. Milk should be left on the table, and spilled cereal is a natural decoration.

I nearly lost my mind trying to keep up with it all. I remained calm enough not to hurt anyone, but I confess I was yelling a lot by the end of the day. I did manage to get them outside playing for awhile. It was easy. I turned the tv channel to ice skating. Poof! They were outta there. At least for a little while.

I love them all dearly with all my heart, but they are largely untrained. I am way, way too obsessive compulsive about certain things (okay a lot of things, damnit) to handle them in a burst like that without turning into a drill sergeant. I made them clean after themselves. I made them flush the toilet. I made them come back and open that slammed door, and shut it politely. I made them whisper. I made them sit still and not punch each other while they watched tv. I made them shower, and then I made them pick those wet fucking towels up off my bathroom floor and hang them up properly to dry.

I'm mean, and Eric hates me. At least for a few days.

I tried to give my sister a birthday with as little stress in it as humanly possible, given her circumstances. I had no money for a present, I couldn't take her out for a drink or even dinner. I couldn't fix her asinine car. All I could do was watch the boys while she worked, and make sure that when she drove them home, all she had to do was tell them to brush their teeth and go to bed, before fighting with John and trying to get some sleep before the sun came up today.

I feel like a horrible person who does not handle stress well at all. I cried myself to sleep last night because I completely lost my patience and yelled at the boys so damned much. I know it didn't help things, but I snapped. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I really am. Things went terribly wrong this weekend, everything that could go wrong, did. I tried to make the best of everything, to remain cheerful in spite of it all. But I finally snapped, and I feel like a jackass.

I console myself with the fact that no lips were split - though I did spank Eric twice. He was tantrum building, and without his meds, if he gets a good headstart, it'll be hours or days before he stops. If you let him get a good headstart, you have to lock up the knives. No bullshit. So I had to take control. But still. I failed to be a patient, loving aunt. I'm such an asshole.

I hope today concludes my run of Murphy, because my kids and I need some quiet, some rest, some routine. We need some snuggles, some giggles, and some ice cream. We need a sane Momma at the helm. Nothing has felt stable for three days, and the Life Sucks factor is pretty high right now. I think I'm going to go to the video store today, and try to rent that damned Garfield movie that i don't really want to see. I'm going to make pizza for supper, even though that's the Wednesday night thing. No. In fact, I'll go buy some pizza rolls, my kids favorite comfort food. Maybe even some cheese sticks, a rare treat. If I'm feeling generous, I might even buy a two litre of soda for them, guaranteed not to last the night. We'll get the homework done early, have free time until six or so, then eat craptastic food they love and watch a funny movie. We'll revel in the fact that it's just us here, there's room on the couch. Hell, I might even unplug the phone.

I'll tuck a security blanket around all three of us, as best I can. I just hope it works.

 

[Gypsy]

Comfort Night was a hands-down success

I tidied up the house a bit (except my desk, which is still piled to the ceiling with mail and Stuff), then off I went to the grocery store. I found a large bag of cheese sticks for approximately $7 including tax, for around 40 sticks. That beat the hell out of TGIF's brand, with six sticks for nearly $4 plus tax. They're good, too. I also got the kids their beloved pizza rolls (WHY did I ever like those nasty things??), and a small box of ice cream sandwiches.

At the video store I picked up Garfield, 13 Going On 30, and Van Helsing.

I told the kids to get their homework finished and chores done, 'cause I intended to relax and be lazy from six PM on. I stated that we'd all had a Weekend From Hell, we're Stressed, and we need a Night of Comfort Food and Funny Movies. They complied enthusiastically. I'd hidden the ice cream, so when I went into the kitchen around 8ish and got three out, then tossed one at each of them, Alyssa was ecstatic. "Wow, Mom. When you said Comfort Food, you meant it!"

Yeah, I'm cool like that.

And for the record, it worked even better than I thought it would. The kids suddenly started saying please and thank you to each other, without being asked. They smiled, laughed, snuggled, and both stated at bedtime that hey Mom, thanks...we really needed this, and we feel better.

Damn, I'm good.

I really, really need to do something with this mess on my desk today. I hate sorting through all the crap that lands in my mailbox every month. Hate it. Obviously, I'd much rather wash dishes or do laundry. *rolls eyes*

Oh. And today is what would have been the 14th anniversary of my marriage to the Ex. I celebrate the fact that I am free of him. FREE. In fact, I might just have a drink tonight, after the kids go to bed, and giggle quietly.

I'll bet he's tying one on, crying and whining and moping and making sure Daddy feels appropriately sorry for him, and hates me for hurting his little boy. And if not, I'd celebrate that too.

Oh. I voted yesterday. Did you? As stated in one of the threads in the political forum, I knew my state was going to go to Bush, before I even voted. I didn't let that stop me. I figured at least I could cancel someone else out. I'm still just stunned that folks around here actually signed a stupid petition to get Bush to come visit this nowhere town...and that he did it. I have never really mentioned politics in my journal, and pretty much like it like that. But my GOD I can't believe what's happening. Never mind. I'm not even going to go there.

Oops. Just remembered I need to make a phone call...

Okely doke. I just called the Career Center (or whatever they're calling themselves this year) about a job referral for a medical transcriptionist job. The computer called me yesterday afternoon, and I called back. The person in charge of that particular work order had already left for the day, though, so I had to call again this morning. After a brief discussion, it was decided he'd send my profile, and just see what happens. In his words: Let's swing the bat. If we don't get a hit, we'll just swing it again." Well, alrighty then.

I should go through the Stuff and find that food stamp application. I have to re-app within the next couple of weeks or so. Might as well get it over with, I guess. I hate those things. I hate everything about being on any form of welfare. That reminds me. I need to call Community Action about making a new appointment with Judy. I'm obviously not able to get a job all by myself, unless it's working a shift which will never allow me to see my own children, much less make a living wage. If I gotta work for peanuts, I have to at least try to be home at night. If they can't place me in a job where I can do that, then I'll focus one hundred percent of my attention on school, yet again. Eventually, things will fall into place so I can GO. Even if I don't set out on the path to a Masters at first, even if all I do is take one class that will get me a transcriptionist job (or SOMETHING), then fine.

And of course, the kids' father is deliberately avoiding any kind of actual job where his earnings would be reported. And except for sending his daughter a $50 gift card for Wally World for her birthday, he's contributed zilch to their support since early September. He's busy seeing shrinks and swallowing pills. Or so he says. Who knows what's really happening down there?

Oh. My. God. I just remembered I have a chiro appointment today. Right this minute, in fact. CRAP. *dials phone* Okay, all's well. They are SO not busy, and can take me whatever time I get there. Whew.

I guess I'll have to finish my rambling some other time.

 

[Gypsy]

So, let's see. It's been a pretty calm weekend. THANK YOU.


Friday night, Alyssa had a school dance. She looked cute but not too cute, which I approved of. I also approved of all the chaperones present, so it was pretty worry free for me. She came home with the cutest picture of her, her current boyfriend, and her friend with HER boyfriend. Awwww. Definitely one for the scrapbook.

Saturday she went on a hayride with her youth group from church. Again, good clean fun for Alyssa while her brother and I chilled at home. It was actually pretty nice for all of us.

Today I informed the kids there would be no tv, no phone, no music until they cleaned my house. I assigned Alyssa the kitchen, Harley the bathroom (and yes son, you DO have to actually use cleanser), I took the living room. Since no tv was allowed, we sat around until noon just chatting, relaxing in our pj's, and drinking coffee. Well, *I* drank coffee. Have I ever mentioned my son makes the BEST damned coffee, ever? I made my own coffee yesterday morning, and it was so shitty I actually had him dump it out and make me some more. He found that to be highly amusing. Actually, I did too. What is he doing to my coffee that I'm not? I mean, I taught him how to make it, for chrissakes.

Sugar-Snit, I got your message. I'm sorry I wasn't home when you called. I wish I had been.

I have to go pay bills tomorrow. Yay. I also plan to go to DFS to take care of that pesky form-filling-out-crap they put me through. I'll also stop by a couple of places to put in applications, though I don't really want to work at either of them. I guess beggars can't be choosers. If there's time left in the day after all that, I'll stop by the community action office and both apply for help with the heat bill, and talk to Judy AGAIN about the whole school/job thing. I was just gearing up with her before, when I had my car wreck. Time to try to pick up where I left off. I'm only about ten days from being released by my chiropractor, and I'm feeling a lot better now than I was even three weeks ago. Almost all the problems with my neck are better. I still get some pretty serious and painful tension going on, often out of the blue for no apparent reason, but other than that, I seem fine.

Oy. And Walmart. I have to go do a bit of necessary house supply shopping tomorrow. I HATE that. I should probably go do that first, while it's really early and a little less crowded. If I'd been thinking about it, I'd have gone three hours ago, after the kids went to bed. I'd be back home by now.

I went to download a song I hadn't heard in years and years and years, and the place I've gotten my music from for the past five years or so is GONE. Where did they go? I'm broken hearted, here. I've gotten used to going a certain place to find those old songs, and seeing familiar nicks when I do. It was nice, knowing they were there. And now they seem to be missing from the face of the earth. I guess this is what I get for never putting any of them on my icq list, huh?

So I hunted a new place to get my tunes. I'm currently searching for Whodini's Big Mouth, a song that came out in the very early 80's. In fact, it's one of my top three favorite rap songs, ever. I like about ten rap songs, if that, so being in the top three is pretty major, I guess. Anyway, I've lost the tape, I'll probably never find it again, but I'm craving to hear that song. I haven't found anyone that has it, yet, but I did meet a couple of people who are nice to chat with, when I'm in the mood for chat. I guess that's the problem with taking such a long break from IRC. When you go back, either the people have disappeared, or they just don't bother talking to you anymore. So, you either make new friends on new nets, or you just give up completely and close the client.

I've met a couple of people in the new place that seem nice enough to chat with. One is a mother of three, a bit older than myself, so I don't have to be the oldest in channel for a change. The other is a male younger than me, but close enough in age that he doesn't act childish or anything. I have no idea how much of a geek he is, at this point. I'm used to hanging out on IRC with computer geeks, and damnit, I miss them. I learned a tad from Simon, Winti, and Thomas, but most of all, they were my friends. I used to talk to them every day.

But I miss Thomas most of all. And I'm really pissed at myself for losing his phone number, too, because I want to talk to him and can't catch him online and actually NOT idling. *sigh*

Minou? Would it suprise you completely if I told you I know EXACTLY what you mean?

Totally random thoughts. Yup. And for anyone who really knows much of anything about me, it's a clear sign that there are things on my mind I cannot discuss. Or won't.

Part of it's political. Practically the only discussion I've had on the subject has been with Dunsany, via email. Even then, I got bent out of shape fairly quick. Reading threads in the political forum got me upset too, because there were (are) links to stories in the news that echo what I believed was happening the night I watched the 'results' rolling in. I haven't been as angry with the people who voted for Bush as I've been at the suspicion I've had since day one that Bush's people got away with cheating to win AGAIN. And Kerry? Why in the HELL did you concede? I don't freaking understand it. If I can see fraud is obviously at play, why did no one speak of it? Why did no one raise an eyebrow the night of the election? Why did Kerry back down?

I'm angry. I feel helpless to do anything about it, and that makes me even angrier. I'm scared for the future in a way I've never been before. I'm so damned sick and tired of being scared of what may be to come, that that makes me angry too.

For several days I've been cursing myself for not learning more about politics long, long ago. For never being the kind of person to get involved, for always keeping my head down, for being too novice and uninformed to know what to do to help make this better. I have no one but myself to blame, I guess, because I've spent my whole life just trying to survive my own life, and had no energy left for the world at large.

I have to stop, and calm back down, or I'll never sleep tonight. And that will serve no one.

Did I ever mention that my son made B Honor roll this past quarter? And that he missed A Honor Roll by only 2 points? Quite the accomplishment, that, after what we went through last year. I'm so proud of him. And I'm so grateful for that break in life, for all of us. Alyssa missed Honor Roll completely, for the first time. She had a problem in one class, and it caused that one grade to drop to a C. Everything else was A's and B's though, and I'm proud of her, too. She works hard, and does a pretty good job of balancing her education with having an actual social life.

In the month and a half since their father left, Harley has begun to lose weight. He no longer eats like a horse every five minutes like a bottomless pit. (How's that for mixing analogies?) He's not obese or anything like that, but he's definitely one solid chunk of ten year old, and was getting a bit of belly that concerned me. I've worried that he's going to end up with his father's figure before he hits his teens, to be honest, and his dad is fat. Santa Clause belly fat, literally. And before anyone attacks me for all this, I'd like to state for the record that my concerns have been for health, thank you very much. I used to try to put their dad on a healthier diet than he liked, to no avail. For years I tried to break him of things like having fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, macaroni and cheese, butter bread, and green beans in one meal. The man fried everything, I tried to get him to eat more baked meats. And all that starch in one meal! Every night! I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen. And now he has to worry about heart attacks from clogged arteries, and he has diabetes, too. Not to mention the fact that he was severely overweight with zero muscle tone in his belly was a contributing factor to the three hernias he's had.

So yeah, I worry about my boy. But maybe he's about to grow out of his baby fat, and his eating habits have improved. We're not fanatical here, by a long shot, but we still manage a healthier diet than at their dad's house.

Okay, if I don't have anything more interesting than this to ramble about, I'm obviously just talking to be talking, because I can't talk about what's really on my mind. So, time to shut up here, and either write it elsewhere, or go to bed and forget about it. At least, for tonight.

I need to go say a prayer for my sister and nephews, and my mother, anyway. Not to mention a lot of my friends. While I'm at it, I think I'll pray for this country. Anyone wanna help with that one?

 

[Gypsy]

My 14 year old daughter and I were walking the dog tonight. Together. Isn't that cool?

So, we're maybe a block from home when the discussion began. I can't remember now what started it, but it had something to do with kissing boyfriends. Since my daughter shocked the hell out of me (to her absolute glee, I might add) with her statement that I needed to get laid, a few months back, I take an opportune moment here and there to aggravate and scandalize her. Especially when she's had a rough afternoon (a fight with her band teacher that left her in tears and got her sent to the principal) and needs to cut up and laugh.

Tonight was a doozy. That kid really, really needed to laugh. A little thing I learned from Mr. Silent, once upon a time, during my darker days. Thank you, Mr. Silent, for all the times you saved me with laughter.

But I digress.

So she says something about how everyone should have a boyfriend to kiss. Without missing a beat or thinking twice, I started a tangent, and wouldn't let go. It was positively classic.

G: I want a boyfriend to kiss.
D:You don't need a boyfriend.
G: But I want one!
D: You don't need a boyfriend.
G: Why not?
D: Because then you might get laid. (mumbled under her breath)
G: What?
D: Nuthin, I didn't say nuthin.
G:Yes you did. I heard you say something. What'd you say?
D: Nuthin!
G: You don't want me to have a boyfriend because I might get laid?
D: If you knew what I said, why'd you keep asking me? (said with mock exasperation)
G:Because I had to replay it in my head a few times to hear it.
D: So,
G: No, wait. I want to know about this boyfriend laid thing. Why don't you want me to get laid?
D: Because then you wouldn't be grouchy!
G: You don't want me to get laid because you want me to be grouchy?
D: Yup!
G: Lemme get this straight. First, I need to get laid because I'm grouchy. Now I shouldn't get laid because you like me grouchy?
D: That's right.
G: (abrupt track change, rapid fire) So you like kissing, huh?
D:YES! Oh my God, everyone should have a boyfriend so they can kiss all the time!
G: REALLY?
D: Well, not like, with tongues down throats or anything, but...but..(mentally, I finished her sentence: But the other kind. The soft kind. The kind that makes you feel adored. Trust me, I could see it all over her face.)

G: I want a boyfriend I can kiss.
D: No!
G: But I want one!
D: Well, okay. But you can't get laid.
G: Why not? What if I want to get laid?
D: Oh my god! Mom! No!
G: Why not?
D:Because I said so.
G: Hey. Wait a minute. How come I pay the bills, and you get to make the rules?
D: Fine! But get a motel room.
G: Motel rooms cost money, kiddo, they're expensive. Can't I just get laid at home in my own bed?
D: NO!
G:What if you're not home? Can I get laid at home THEN?
D: NO!
G: But you wouldn't be there, you'd never know!
D: The house would smell like sex.
G: How would you know what sex smells like?
D: I lived with Dad - hello!
G: Oh yeah. Point taken. So if I can't get laid at home, then where?
D: I don't know. Get in his truck and go far, far away. In the woods. Not at home.
G: Truck? My boyfriend's gonna have a truck? Okay then. Why are you so afraid of me getting laid in my own bed?
D:Because.
G: Because why?
D: You're an addict, do you know that, Mom?
G: I'm an addict?!
D: Yes.
G: I'm a sex addict....?
D:Yes
G: And you say this because....?
D: Because you torment me with these getting laid conversations! All the time!
G: Hey. I'm an addict! Don't mess with an addict's fix, girly girl. Someone could get hurt! I need to get laid!
D: Oh my god, Mom...
G: (ignoring her, talking to myself) Well. Practice makes perfect, I guess. (5 second pause) I'm really good at it!
D: OH MY GOD MOTHER! NO! NO! YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!
G: Well, if I'm an addict, and an addict does something all the time, then I must have lots of practice and practice makes perfect! So I'm good at it! (yay me!)
D: (she actually screamed like I'd jumped out of the dark and scared her)
G: After laughing so hard my stomach hurt, I asked: What's the matter?
D: (sitting on the ground looking shocked) My ears are bleeding.
G: (somehow, I managed to laugh even harder, and had to do the peepee dance) Are you scandalized, baby girl?
D: Yes. Horribly.
G: But why? You're the one who started this business by telling me I need to get laid.
D:You can get laid! Just...I don't wanna know about your positions!
G: (cracking up) When did I say anything about positions?
D: You told me you're good at it.
G: Because you said I'm an addict, and addicts practice a lot. Never said nuttin about no positions.
D: Oh. You're not an addict, ok?

(15 second pause)

D: You might as well get laid while you can. You're going to stop having sex when you're 59.
G: Oh hell no I'm not!
D: Mom!
G: What? Well, I'm not! Who says I have to stop having sex at 59?
D: I don't know.
G: Well. I'm not gonna stop having sex at a certain age just because SOMEONE said I'm supposed to. I'm an addict! I gotta have it!
D: Oh my god Mom, shut up! (she's laughing herself, by now, finally sure that I'm really just cutting up and not a bit serious at all...) OH MY GOD. You are SO gonna put this in your journal, aren't you?
G: You damned skippy, kiddo.


And from there we talked about birth control. I told her that when she was twenty-six, and had been married nine years, she could have sex. But when she did, she should use birth control pills, foam, condoms, and a diaphram. And she's not allowed to marry until she's 25. You do the math.

Oh, and she laughed at me. She thought I was making the foam part up, and it was just the funniest thing she'd heard all day. I finally convinced her that, no, there really is something called spermicidal foam. She asked what that meant, so I told her all about the foam with the sperm killer in it. That it was a backup, in case the condom breaks. But foam won't keep you from getting a disease! And neither would the Pill! And neither would a diaphram! And then she asked what a diaphram was. So I tried my best to explain to her something I've never used, nor held in my hand for inspection. I think I got it covered when I quoted Robin Williams and told her it was like a little trampoline for sperm. No, not really, she looked very confused at that point. So I got serious and told her what it really does, and then the scrunches in her eyebrows disappeared.

When we got home, Harley was out playing. There was time for one more serious question. "Sissy, are you really and truly that freaked out by the idea of me having sex in my own bed?" She looked down, kind of nodded a little. "Yeah." I started washing the dishes I'd put in the sink before our walk. "Well kiddo, I'll make you a solemn promise that I will never ever have sex in your bed." She grabbed the remote. "And I make you a solemn promise I'll never have sex in your bed, either." I smiled at my dishes. "Thank you, kiddo. I appreciate that." She changed the channel on the tv.

"You're welcome."