Thank You, Internet

Yesterday I had six dollars and eleven cents to my name.
I also had two shut-off notices.
I wrote a whiny post about not being able to afford anything anymore - gas, food, and least of all, my daughter's $20 stuff a bear field trip with her Brownie troop....and worrying that when her birthday arrives in three weeks, I will have nothing special for her.

I was defeated, deflated, and sick of my own whining.

I didn't know how I would get to work (gas money), pay the rent, or feed my family next month. I had hoped he would have repaid me by now, or at least have tried. I was deep in the hole and only sinking deeper, in spite of attempts to avoid this quicksand.

I am only one person.
I am full time mother, I am part time father, I am events coordinator, breadwinner and the decider. I am exhausted just trying to tread water. I have been in this cold ocean for over a year. A year ago, I thought it would be better now.
My life is my own, and so that is better.
But my life must be carefully guarded against his (expected) attempts to regain control over me - for once I stepped over that line of friendship to relationship, in his mind, I became his property.

It took one generous, kind and brilliant person, and then another, and about 200 friends, acquaintances, and strangers to remind me that my life is mine. And it is precious.

And we are going to make it.


Supergirl thanks you for Marley's dress and leash.
I thank you for gas money and the smile on her face.
And for doing more for my children than their own father has.
And for the kleenex I purchased after reading all your beautiful comments.

And for restoring my faith in humanity.

You are an amazing community. A year ago I was told to take this blog down.
I am so glad I didn't listen to anyone but my heart.


Thank you.

My Life has reached A New Low

Yesterday I went to the food bank.

I knew last week when I took her to get her ears pierced that I was using precious budget money....but I remembered I had an 'emergency food bag' voucher and I figured now was as good a time as any to suck it up and use it.
It was a crap day anyway, so I am not sure if all the tears after this errand were from stooping so low and feeling the pain and shame of this, or if they were more likely inspired by the accumulating feeling of frustration and dejection which has colored my summer.
Or maybe it was the way the guy who handed me the heavy bag of food said, "This is the last week for this program - the county has cut it - can I help you to your car with that?"

Or maybe it was because, when I got home, I realized that the black and white box of food storage bags the guy had also handed me was not, in fact, storage bags, but a box of government cheese food product.

Yeah, really.

Behold! Poor people food!

Tomorrow I have to decide to send my daughter on a field trip with her brownie troop without the requested $20 so she can dress her newly built bear and risk the wrath of her being the only one coming home with a naked bear.

I also have to figure out how to drive 80 miles roundtrip to work and then drive another 40 roundtrip to get them to visit their daddy: on 1/4 tank of gas.

I will be saying some prayers that the squealing belts on the car won't blow just yet...because I cannot afford to fix the car...again.

Meanwhile, my kitchenaid (professional, my ass) mixer died a horrible death and my traditional stress baking coping skills are severely compromised.

I am trying not to think too much about her upcoming birthday.

The (rescue foundation!) kitten she wants....$150 we don't have.

The requested night away at the beach....not going to happen.

Or how to afford the absolutely reasonably priced yoga classes recommended by her therapist.

Or the flash on my camera which is STILL broken (while he remains in possession of my favorite elph - MINE!!).

Or the burning smell my laptop emits when I turn it on and there is no fan sound...and the fact that I cannot afford the back up hard drive to save my files right now.

Or the fact that if he was paying any of the restitution order or any of the thousands of dollars he owes me, this would not be happening.

Or the fact that Xdude is actively trying to starve me out by not paying the ordered support and waiting for me to have to move....thus proving his point. Which is....well I am not sure what it is....but it's for the greater good of maintaining some control over my life which is no longer his to control. He's already assured the children that if I move, he will follow.

Not to support them of course, but to stalk me 'be close' to them.

Hurting your kids to get to your ex. So unique.

What a man.

Guess what we did today?

She is very concerned, as you can see from this picture:



She waited so long for this day....


And look at her.

She is gorgeous - a superstar.
And I thanked her for picking out the least expensive (but most adorable) teeny tiny cobalt blue beads....

A Word About Neglect

DAD.

I need a squid and some bungee cords to wrap my brain around this one....

There is a part of this craziness which keeps mystifying me.

Supergirl drew a picture of The Day That Changed Her Life, and in this picture, her aunt is outside.
"This is after she came out of the house. Things were quiet."
In it, she has drawn her aunt, her friend and brother, and a giant, colorful mud pie.
She and her friend were making the mud pie and then the aunt came out to help.


Things were quiet because I had no more breath and had stopped shouting - the ultimate goal of the headlock and choking, I suppose, since there is really only one way to shut someone up.
He and his sister still maintain (or feign) surprise that someone would start screaming their bloody head off for help when put in a headlock, instead of submissively shutting their mouth.

Things were quiet because she waited until I had begged her to pick up the phone, begged her to take Bubbles out of the room, begged her to ask her brother to stop hurting me. She waited until I had pleaded with her for her to do something - anything.
Still ignoring the screams of my son.
She waited.
And then I had no more voice - he pushed my head forward - chin to chest- until I could emit no more than a pathetic squeak.

And then she quietly picked up my son and walked him out of the room to make mudpies.

Paternity Test, Anyone?

I've been thinking.

I'm not sure anymore, that Xman is the father of our children.

I mean, if he was, wouldn't he feel some obligation to contribute to their health, well-being, and survival?

I know a few families who receive child support payments. Two of them receive $1000 per child per month, and another receives $600 per child per month.
Xman would like to pay less than $250 per month per child.
In California.

Apparently not making the connection that his access to his children is in imminent danger of being restricted by the mere result of forced relocation.


6/7/10 Updated for CYA legal reasons:
I also forgot to mention 2 rather relevant points:
1) Early on, Xdude made me fill out paternity papers with DCSS just to stall the case. His name is on birth certs and he does not dispute his paternity - but it was a fine way to stall with 8 more pages of paperwork and humiliating questions, such as 'when AND WHERE was the last time you had sex with this person?'
2) Xdude MYSTERIOUSLY lost his fabulous, well paying and TRACKABLE job just days after being ordered to pay child support. Now he just takes on contract work so he can hide his income.
3) There has been an order made. An order for back support and current support. He has not paid one cent of the back support, and has not once - not even one single month since being ordered - paid more than half of what he was ordered.
4) There is no doubt in their paternity. I was being facetious.

Zen Head Games

So Bubbles and his buddy, Orion, had a few days to hang out and play together.
Orion's mom saw an opportune teaching moment for our 3 and 4 yr old boys, and went for it.
"See, Orion. See how Bubbles used his words and asked you for it? You took it from him but he just used his words and asked for it back. He didn't hit or push or scream. Bubbles. I am so proud of you for the way you handled that!"


"It's okay. I'm gonna smack him later."

Prop 16: I want her funnel cake too