I'm so exhausted.
Between the ex starting up his shit the past week, my husband's hemorrhoid surgery on Friday, and now the youngest girl being sick today, I haven't gotten much sleep.
I also failed my Psychology exam on Thursday and managed to rip my pinky toenail off in my sleep last night. Did I mention I'm also 34 weeks pregnant?
Shoot me....
All of this has made me extremely grateful though. Grateful that this isn't our norm. That one day, whether it be tomorrow or next week, we will get back to normal.
I'm grateful that my oldest girl has been on her best behavior and helping me as much as she can. I'm grateful that even though the baby is sick, this is a rare occurrence for her. She's usually as healthy as a 2 foot tall heathen.
I'm grateful for my husband and how amazing he is. Normally I would have bitten his head off and told him to stop whining by now. But when he came out of recovery, all he wanted was me. All he wanted was to see me and hold my hand. And the last few days, even though I've had to help him do almost everything, he's been so grateful and hasn't hesitated to tell me how much he appreciates me and what I'm doing and how much he loves me. It makes a world of difference. Really.
So even though I feel like I'm losing my sanity today, I know it won't last long and we'll be back on track by the end of the week (hopefully).
And now we have less than 5 weeks left until we meet the newest member of our family. :)
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
The "Other" Parent
How long after a separation and subsequent divorce before someone moves on with their life? It has now been over 5 years since the separation and almost a full 3 since the divorce was finalized. And yet... here I am, still having to fight for what's right for my daughter. Still dealing with harassment and torment in every aspect that comes with dealing with him....
Yes, I know, I picked him. I know that this is my fault. I have accepted that I chose to bring this chaos into my life. However, I had no idea how bad it would be.
I won't lie and say that I was innocent in everything. I was young when we married, I didn't know anything about a marriage or how to make one work or what was expected. You could probably classify me as a terrible wife. I'm ok with that. People make mistakes. People marry people who aren't right for them. That's why the divorce rate in this country is so high; people rush into this type of serious thing without thinking it through. Nevertheless, people choose divorce and move on with their lives.
In the last 4 days alone, I have been told I would have the cops and DHR at my house everyday, I have had the police come to do a "welfare-check" on my child because her father allegedly served me with papers and I was refusing to let him speak to her (couldn't be further from the truth), and recorded him asking her if everyone was "being nice to her at home". What. The. Fuck.
This is just a drop in the bucket as to what things have been like for the last 5 years. This is ongoing and constant. He has screamed sexually explicit things about me in parking lots in front of her for years. He has threatened to take her away on an almost monthly basis. He lies to her and fills her head full of garbage and tells her I don't love her or want her. He doesn't take care of her when he has visitation with her. He tries to get my husband to hit him all the time. He has tried to spit on us.
But I'm the bad parent?
It's all too much sometimes. I'm so tired of the dramatics. I'm tired of being scared to parent my child, tired of being worried if he'll take something she says out of context and twist it around to be horrible and take custody from me, I'm tired of constantly looking over my shoulder.
When does it end?
Just tonight she asked me why her last name isn't the same as the rest of ours. She said she feels left out. And God, I would give anything to change it. My husband loves her like his own; he parents her with me, he raises her with me, he takes care of her and provides for her in ways her own father never has. And yet, he will never have the luxury of the courts viewing him as her father because the scumbag that donated his sperm to her wouldn't have it.
That same scumbag is well over 13k behind in child support, hasn't contributed to any medical bills in her entire life, doesn't support any extra-curricular activities, cannot even feed her healthy food... but yet he gets to cause scenes and harass my husband and I any chance he wants and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I thought the laws were in place to protect people like me. I was wrong.
I wonder how much more I can take. Because with the way things are looking now, it isn't going to get any easier. His behavior won't get any better. I just don't know what to do anymore.
Yes, I know, I picked him. I know that this is my fault. I have accepted that I chose to bring this chaos into my life. However, I had no idea how bad it would be.
I won't lie and say that I was innocent in everything. I was young when we married, I didn't know anything about a marriage or how to make one work or what was expected. You could probably classify me as a terrible wife. I'm ok with that. People make mistakes. People marry people who aren't right for them. That's why the divorce rate in this country is so high; people rush into this type of serious thing without thinking it through. Nevertheless, people choose divorce and move on with their lives.
In the last 4 days alone, I have been told I would have the cops and DHR at my house everyday, I have had the police come to do a "welfare-check" on my child because her father allegedly served me with papers and I was refusing to let him speak to her (couldn't be further from the truth), and recorded him asking her if everyone was "being nice to her at home". What. The. Fuck.
This is just a drop in the bucket as to what things have been like for the last 5 years. This is ongoing and constant. He has screamed sexually explicit things about me in parking lots in front of her for years. He has threatened to take her away on an almost monthly basis. He lies to her and fills her head full of garbage and tells her I don't love her or want her. He doesn't take care of her when he has visitation with her. He tries to get my husband to hit him all the time. He has tried to spit on us.
But I'm the bad parent?
It's all too much sometimes. I'm so tired of the dramatics. I'm tired of being scared to parent my child, tired of being worried if he'll take something she says out of context and twist it around to be horrible and take custody from me, I'm tired of constantly looking over my shoulder.
When does it end?
Just tonight she asked me why her last name isn't the same as the rest of ours. She said she feels left out. And God, I would give anything to change it. My husband loves her like his own; he parents her with me, he raises her with me, he takes care of her and provides for her in ways her own father never has. And yet, he will never have the luxury of the courts viewing him as her father because the scumbag that donated his sperm to her wouldn't have it.
That same scumbag is well over 13k behind in child support, hasn't contributed to any medical bills in her entire life, doesn't support any extra-curricular activities, cannot even feed her healthy food... but yet he gets to cause scenes and harass my husband and I any chance he wants and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I thought the laws were in place to protect people like me. I was wrong.
I wonder how much more I can take. Because with the way things are looking now, it isn't going to get any easier. His behavior won't get any better. I just don't know what to do anymore.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
A Letter to My Oldest
Baby A...
You're not so much a baby anymore. You're 6 and a half, almost 7 years old and it never ceases to amaze me how much you've grown over the years and how much you continue to grow everyday. I look at you and see so much of myself; it is refreshing and disheartening all at the same time.
I was already a damaged kid by the time I was your age. And I have made it my mission in life, as your mother, to protect you as best as I can from becoming the same little girl I was. I fear that in a lot of ways I have failed.
I never set out to have children. When I was younger, I saw the way that my mom treated me and the way other moms treated their kids and it was so different. Other moms were part of the PTA, or gave their little girls notes in their lunchboxes everyday, or even said "I love you" at least once a day. Mine did not.
You know Grandma as someone who loves you. I know Grandma as a very different person. When I was little, Grandma wasn't your Grandma yet. She was my Mom, and she wasn't a nice lady. I fully believe that some people are meant to be parents, they are just born with that nurturing ability, that selfless nature to parent without qualms. Other people have to strive for that. But a lot of people shouldn't even step up to the plate at all. I fully believe my mom. your Grandma, is one of the latter.
But I digress... this letter isn't meant to be about me or Grandma, this letter is about you. But sometimes you need a little back story to fully understand the situation you find yourself in.
I did not set out to be a parent because I felt that if my mom couldn't, or wouldn't, be like the moms I saw everywhere else then there must be something wrong with me. And I did not want that burden to pass onto my children.
As luck would have it, I did become a mom. At the age of 18, I was in a marriage that was over before it ever really began and I found myself staring at 2 little pink lines on a test. Your dad was not happy. He called all his friends in the medical profession to ask about the possibilities of a false positive, he Googled abortion clinics, he proclaimed that I had trapped him with the baby I allegedly wanted.
Those few moments after we got the result determined your fate. He ignited a fire inside me that fueled your heartbeat in the coming months. I would not get rid of you. I would not forsake you for the easy way out. I would not believe you weren't real. I wanted you with every fiber of my being. But until I saw that positive on the pregnancy test, I knew none of that.
So you, little girl, you made me a mom. You will always be my first baby. The one who propelled me into this crazy thing called parenthood. The one who opened my heart to a love I had never experienced. Your birth and life has impacted me and changed me more so than your siblings' ever will.
And I worry everyday that you don't know that. How could you? How can I explain to your little mind that you, not your sisters, are my reason for living? That without you, I have nothing? I don't mean that your little sisters don't matter or that I don't love them as much as I love you, because I do. But it's different.
As I said before, I see so much of myself in you and I want to fix the broken parts of me through you. That's something I can't do with your sisters. If I have my way, your siblings will never know a broken home. They will never want for love or affection. They will never know shared custody or splitting holidays or parents that don't speak unless its through screaming or at court. I will shelter them from those things in ways that I never could protect you.
When you were born, I had no idea what I was doing. In a lot of ways, I still don't. I've learned over the years, so I was better equipped to handle the birth of your sister, and I think I'm even more prepared to handle your next sister I'm growing in my belly. But I will always be at a disadvantage with knowing how to parent you. You're the first. You will go through changes and stages before they will. So you and I (and Kangaroo Daddy) will have to navigate these unknown trenches on our own. I only hope that any mistakes we make, you will forgive us for.
This morning, as we were reading your AR book, I yelled at you. Because you mispronounced the words. And the more I think on it, the more heart broken I become. Because I see a pattern. When you don't do something right, I yell at you. And I can see the pain in your eyes. I already see that feeling of not being good enough. Despite my wishes and best efforts, I have failed in what I set out to do: make sure you never feel like that.
I am crying my eyes out as I type this because I just want so much for you to know that you ARE good enough. You are the best. You are beautiful, and funny, and smart beyond your years. You are so wise. Sometimes I forget that you're still just a kid. You're only 6. You have bad days just like me. You get cranky when you're tired, just like me. I expect so much from you, because I want you to grow up and be independent and resourceful and a kind person, but you're so young and I'm so hard on you. I know that. I see that. And I am so sorry.
I lose my patience with you more than your sister. I can realize that she can't understand some things, so why is it so hard for me to understand that with you? I'm not sure. But I promise that from this minute forward I will be better. I will be the mom you deserve. You have always deserved the best. You have always been the most forgiving, loving child I think I've ever encountered. It doesn't matter how much or how loud I yell at you and make you cry, you have always said "I love you mommy" afterwards. Never thinking, never questioning.
I only hope that you know how much I love and adore you. Even if I don't always show it like I'm supposed to. Even when I have bad days and yell at you. I will never not love you. I will never not want the best for you. I will never give up on you.
I'm one of those types of people who have to strive to be a good parent. I wasn't born with that instinct. I have to work at it everyday. Some days are really good. Here lately, most aren't. But I have never had to work for my love for you. It was there the first time I heard your heartbeat. It's only gotten stronger over the years. I know that it will continue to grow in the years ahead as well.
So Baby A, I want you to know how much I love you. I cannot possibly put it into words. Its impossible. But I will show you. I will show you everyday from this day forward how much you mean to me, how proud of you I am, how wonderful and amazing you are. I cannot promise that I won't slip up and have a bad day occasionally. But I am going to limit myself to them. I am going to be more understanding and patient with you, because you are allowed bad days too. I am going to stop yelling so much and listening more. You deserve that. You deserve it all.
I love you baby Kangaroo.
You're not so much a baby anymore. You're 6 and a half, almost 7 years old and it never ceases to amaze me how much you've grown over the years and how much you continue to grow everyday. I look at you and see so much of myself; it is refreshing and disheartening all at the same time.
I was already a damaged kid by the time I was your age. And I have made it my mission in life, as your mother, to protect you as best as I can from becoming the same little girl I was. I fear that in a lot of ways I have failed.
I never set out to have children. When I was younger, I saw the way that my mom treated me and the way other moms treated their kids and it was so different. Other moms were part of the PTA, or gave their little girls notes in their lunchboxes everyday, or even said "I love you" at least once a day. Mine did not.
You know Grandma as someone who loves you. I know Grandma as a very different person. When I was little, Grandma wasn't your Grandma yet. She was my Mom, and she wasn't a nice lady. I fully believe that some people are meant to be parents, they are just born with that nurturing ability, that selfless nature to parent without qualms. Other people have to strive for that. But a lot of people shouldn't even step up to the plate at all. I fully believe my mom. your Grandma, is one of the latter.
But I digress... this letter isn't meant to be about me or Grandma, this letter is about you. But sometimes you need a little back story to fully understand the situation you find yourself in.
I did not set out to be a parent because I felt that if my mom couldn't, or wouldn't, be like the moms I saw everywhere else then there must be something wrong with me. And I did not want that burden to pass onto my children.
As luck would have it, I did become a mom. At the age of 18, I was in a marriage that was over before it ever really began and I found myself staring at 2 little pink lines on a test. Your dad was not happy. He called all his friends in the medical profession to ask about the possibilities of a false positive, he Googled abortion clinics, he proclaimed that I had trapped him with the baby I allegedly wanted.
Those few moments after we got the result determined your fate. He ignited a fire inside me that fueled your heartbeat in the coming months. I would not get rid of you. I would not forsake you for the easy way out. I would not believe you weren't real. I wanted you with every fiber of my being. But until I saw that positive on the pregnancy test, I knew none of that.
So you, little girl, you made me a mom. You will always be my first baby. The one who propelled me into this crazy thing called parenthood. The one who opened my heart to a love I had never experienced. Your birth and life has impacted me and changed me more so than your siblings' ever will.
And I worry everyday that you don't know that. How could you? How can I explain to your little mind that you, not your sisters, are my reason for living? That without you, I have nothing? I don't mean that your little sisters don't matter or that I don't love them as much as I love you, because I do. But it's different.
As I said before, I see so much of myself in you and I want to fix the broken parts of me through you. That's something I can't do with your sisters. If I have my way, your siblings will never know a broken home. They will never want for love or affection. They will never know shared custody or splitting holidays or parents that don't speak unless its through screaming or at court. I will shelter them from those things in ways that I never could protect you.
When you were born, I had no idea what I was doing. In a lot of ways, I still don't. I've learned over the years, so I was better equipped to handle the birth of your sister, and I think I'm even more prepared to handle your next sister I'm growing in my belly. But I will always be at a disadvantage with knowing how to parent you. You're the first. You will go through changes and stages before they will. So you and I (and Kangaroo Daddy) will have to navigate these unknown trenches on our own. I only hope that any mistakes we make, you will forgive us for.
This morning, as we were reading your AR book, I yelled at you. Because you mispronounced the words. And the more I think on it, the more heart broken I become. Because I see a pattern. When you don't do something right, I yell at you. And I can see the pain in your eyes. I already see that feeling of not being good enough. Despite my wishes and best efforts, I have failed in what I set out to do: make sure you never feel like that.
I am crying my eyes out as I type this because I just want so much for you to know that you ARE good enough. You are the best. You are beautiful, and funny, and smart beyond your years. You are so wise. Sometimes I forget that you're still just a kid. You're only 6. You have bad days just like me. You get cranky when you're tired, just like me. I expect so much from you, because I want you to grow up and be independent and resourceful and a kind person, but you're so young and I'm so hard on you. I know that. I see that. And I am so sorry.
I lose my patience with you more than your sister. I can realize that she can't understand some things, so why is it so hard for me to understand that with you? I'm not sure. But I promise that from this minute forward I will be better. I will be the mom you deserve. You have always deserved the best. You have always been the most forgiving, loving child I think I've ever encountered. It doesn't matter how much or how loud I yell at you and make you cry, you have always said "I love you mommy" afterwards. Never thinking, never questioning.
I only hope that you know how much I love and adore you. Even if I don't always show it like I'm supposed to. Even when I have bad days and yell at you. I will never not love you. I will never not want the best for you. I will never give up on you.
I'm one of those types of people who have to strive to be a good parent. I wasn't born with that instinct. I have to work at it everyday. Some days are really good. Here lately, most aren't. But I have never had to work for my love for you. It was there the first time I heard your heartbeat. It's only gotten stronger over the years. I know that it will continue to grow in the years ahead as well.
So Baby A, I want you to know how much I love you. I cannot possibly put it into words. Its impossible. But I will show you. I will show you everyday from this day forward how much you mean to me, how proud of you I am, how wonderful and amazing you are. I cannot promise that I won't slip up and have a bad day occasionally. But I am going to limit myself to them. I am going to be more understanding and patient with you, because you are allowed bad days too. I am going to stop yelling so much and listening more. You deserve that. You deserve it all.
I love you baby Kangaroo.
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