Today, on my way home I was listening to my favorite afternoon, take-my-mind-off-the-ever-loving-idiotic drivers all around me in the rush-to-get-somewhere-more-important-than-where-you’re-going traffic radio talk show. (That has got to be the most descriptive, most run on over use of adjectives ever in a sentence. This is a close second.)
Anyhoo, on my way home the radio host asked his listeners a question he genuinely wanted the answer to. He is 45, on his 2nd marriage and has a 5 year old daughter who is the most beautiful little girl in the entire world. She is his entire world. (Wonder what his wife has to say about that.) He’s obsessed with her (His words not mine). He went on to explain that he is utterly terrified to let this precious most beautiful little girl of his out into their fenced back yard to play by herself. There are 150 children abducted by strangers every year, and he is convinced that she is one of those 150. That anyone who laid eyes on her would want to snatch her away. He admitted to going so far as to sit in the back yard with her, watching her play, eating his dinner, with his firearm on his side, hand almost on the gun.
His question? Am I a freak to be this concerned and over protective?
Uh, dude, I don’t know that freak is the right word. Over protective is an understatement at best. I mean who sits out there with their child fully armed, afraid that someone is going to jump your 5 foot fence? Or just open the gate and take their kid? You are not just a helicopter parent; you haven’t yet cut the umbilical cord.
One of the callers actually agreed with him, and went so far as to say her daughter could not go to her friends’ houses if the parents allowed the children to play outside in their fenced yard without being out there with them the entire time.
I get that we grew up in a different time. We were blissfully unaware of the dangers around us. We were allowed a childhood free of worry and evil. We were out the door right after breakfast, caught lunch where/when we could, and were back home for dinner and back out the door until it was dark.
And no one ever took us.
We learned how to solve problems, we learned how to get out of a jam, we caused trouble, were up to no good, and solved our own trouble praying that our parents never found out what we had been up to that day. We learned how to settle arguments, we learned how to appreciate difference of opinions, we learned how to forgive and forget. We learned how to be responsible for ourselves, and to ourselves. We learned the fine art of negotiation and trade agreements. We learned how to live in the world around us without fear.
Kids today have been taught to fear everyone they see. They’ve been taught every stranger is dangerous; everyone is out to hurt them or take them. They have lost their imagination because they aren’t allowed to exercise it or even use it. Out of fear that rules this world we live in, our children are missing out on some very important life lessons that only they could learn on their own. Lessons that would serve them well in their adult life.
I was never a helicopter parent. I can tell you that at every single family gathering the second the car doors were open the kids were off and gone if they could walk, if not there was always someone willing to pick them up and take them around. There were times I wouldn’t see them again until it was time to eat. They were off playing with cousins, learning the same lessons I learned.
Even at a family gathering at a city park, the kids ran free and nobody took them. Even now, the girls are allowed to ride their bikes to the city park or the library by themselves without me hovering. They go almost every day and they come home every time they go.
I guess what I’m asking is, who’s the ‘freak’ here. Is he the freak for hovering over his daughter and watching her every minute of every day, or am I the freak for not hovering, and allowing my children to ride to town without me there every minute of every day?
Newt got an award yesterday. The Good Citizen of the Month award for her class. I knew about the award, she didn’t. I knew about the assembly. She didn’t. I went and surprised her. She ended up surprising me.
The award was cool and all, but to her it was not the highlight of her afternoon.
Care to guess what meant more to her than that award?
I did.
The fact that I was there. The fact that I showed up at her school for her assembly mattered more to her than that award.
Watching her glow and giggle and point me out to all of her friends and seeing just how much it meant to her that I was there well, sort of blew me away.
It’s been fun this summer spending days with them, being home with them in the afternoons, getting them ready for school in the mornings.
It’s all about putting them first, making them a priority. That matters.
I had an interesting conversation with Bat Mom the other night. I looked at her and told her “Loving him is not easy. But it’s worth it, isn’t it?” She agreed it is not easy, she could not tell me if it was worth it.
“One of the biggest problems I have with you is you allow yourself to be drawn in to these constant Jr high stupid fights with Slug. I expect you to understand that it’s not about you or him, or her, or us. It’s about the girls.”
That stuck with me.
I used to be in a really good place. I used to sit in the peaceful garden of complete indifference. What he said didn’t matter. What he thought didn’t matter. What he did was unimportant. He just didn’t matter at all in my life. I felt nothing for him. Nothing at all. Complete indifference.
Lately, I’ve been reacting to stupid shit. Lately I’ve jumped at every single piece of bait he has dangled in front of me. I’ve felt this need to not only prove myself to be right and better and smarter but to prove him wrong and stupid and insignificant. I have felt the need to run him into the ground and put him down all in an effort to raise myself up.
The fights are stupid, over stupid things. When he calls yelling and screaming and accusing me of things I didn’t do I should remember to just ignore it. At that point there is no reasoning with him. It’s not about being right. It’s about yelling and screaming and threatening me.
Later when I talked to Future Mrs. Slug, I allowed my anger at his rage at me to spill over and again I tried to get the upper hand and the last word. I slipped. I gave in to the anger I still felt at him.
The problem with these stupid fights is, I can never win. No one can. OH He thinks he wins, but really what has he won? He’s yelled and screamed and before it’s all said and done, he’s drug the girls into it as well. And they are the biggest losers in all of this.
Even now, I just deleted two paragraphs because I wanted to rehash the argument here, and have my say, and prove that I was right once again. This isn’t about who was right. This is about setting aside stupid resentments and anger over imagined sins and doing what is right for the girls.
What is right for the girls? In a perfect world they would have their intact family, but they don’t. They can’t. Second best to that? Homes where their parents don’t fight. Homes where their parents understand that their differences are unimportant. Homes where their parents understand that I can’t change him, he can’t change me, so in the best interest of the girls, accept that and let it go.
When was the last time the girls came first? When was the last time either of us considered the girls feelings or needs or well being? I can tell you that I have made some serious changes in my life along those lines. I have worked with my boss and worked out a schedule that allows me to be home with the girls every morning until they get on the bus for school, and to be home within the hour after they get home from school. I don’t work any of the weekends I have them and I am off at least one day during the week to be with them. I will be able to participate in school parties and classroom activities and field trips. I am reaching out and talking to other mothers of other students in their classes and getting to know them as well.
I have spent time this summer making friends with several people in the neighborhood who are keeping an eye on the house and the girls. I have made friends with several people in town who will allow the girls to stay with them on days the girls don’t have school or are let out early.
Yes, we spent a lot of time with Batman at his house towards the end of the summer, but we have other friends too. I have told the girls that on weekends they are here, they can have their best girl friends over for the day and maybe even for sleep overs.
I want them to have normal childhoods. I want them to have friendships that last years. I want them to have happy memories of fun and laughter and a mom who knows what it’s like to be a girl. I want them to know that they matter to me. I want them to know that I have gone out of my way to be here with them as much as I can, while still putting a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Sure that means they won’t have 3 pair of Nike shoes, or LEI jeans or whatever. Ask them. I’m sure they will tell you that they would rather have days with me than Nikes in their closet (at least for a couple more years.. I hope).
I’ve decided to put my girls first. I’ve decided “Screw him. Let him rant and rage. Let him think I’m a bitch. Let him try and tell me how to raise my girls. Let him threaten to destroy me because I don’t quiver in fear at the sound of his voice. I don’t care. He can call a gazillion times a day. I can ignore him. I won’t allow him to interfere with my time with my girls.
My girls come first. And if I don’t fight with him, they can’t be put in the middle. And that’s the best thing in the world for them.
Have you ever been in the situation where someone does or say or thinks or believes something about you that is so off the wall ridiculous that you can’t believe they actually bought into it?
And since they believe it they are convinced it is gospel truth and they go around telling other people these awful untrue things about you. Eventually they get to someone who really matters to you and they tell them this garbage. Which by itself wouldn’t be so bad, I mean after all, it’s laughable really to those who understand.
But to those who don’t, and to those who trust and believe in the people spreading this ridiculous crap about you, which has a few grains of truth to it, but really not much, hearing this nonsense is confusing and painful.
And when you find out that these trusting people are being fed lies and they believe it (because really why wouldn’t they, they trust the people telling them) and you see that your actions, when taken out of context and twisted and tainted and rolled in bullshit, hurts those you care about, you feel like shit.
And it makes you want to scream at the people spreading these ridiculous lies. You want to fire off scathing emails telling them that that people in glass houses should not throw stones. That they really should look at their own twisted up dysfunctional lives before they go around trying to poison the minds of others when they don’t have their facts right. You want to throw them all under the bus and run them down, repeatedly until the pleasure wears off or the bus runs out of gas.
Or you want to blog about it so that your side, the rest of the story can be told, and the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth untarnished and untwisted can be told.
And you want the whole unjustness of the whole situation to be revealed so that your readers can side with you and come to your defense and prepare to hang the destroyers of your reputation. You want to take the idiots dirty laundry (that is a matter of public record) and air it all over the internet (or at least your blog) so as to take away a fuckton some of their credibility.
You want to set some of those idiots down, because well they are new to that particular group of idiots and they don’t know the history. They just know the idiots version of things and since the idiots don’t like to visit reality much, let alone live there, their innocence in the whole situation is about as believable as OJ’s. You want to set the new people down and show them, concrete proof that what you are saying is true and that you’re not the evil wicked witch whore slut bitch they want them to believe you are. You want to warn her about what she is walking into, that the price of admission is her soul and that she will never be free of them again. No matter what. That eventually the rose colored glasses fall off, the blue pills run out, and she will make a mistake. Then the storm that rages just under the surface, the one everyone pretends isn’t there, will no longer be held at bay.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen here. Because I know that if I do all of that, it will be playing into their hands and I’ll look crazy and as if it actually bothers me and as if I actually care. I will once again take the high road, explain the situation to those who need the explanation, in a fair calm manner without accusations and insults. While inside I rage and scream and want their blood to spill and their heads on platters for this bullshit that never seems to end.
I will keep quiet because to confront this head on will only inflate the drama and make it worse for little ones who don’t need to be in the middle. I can see this, no one else can. And while my sense of justice screams MAKE THEM PAY, my love says, leave it alone. Less damage will be done if you leave it alone.
Slug is once again behind in child support. I know! Shocking. Really. Raise your hand if you didn’t see that coming.
Three months. Well, almost. Just over two and a half months behind. On the first of May it will be 3 and a half months. But really, who’s counting. Behind is behind. $10 or $1000 he still owes me. God I am so tired of sounding like a broken record. He’s behind. He owes me. Blah blah blah.
I have garnished his wages. Again. I expect him to quit any day now, and claim he got fired because I garnished his wages. Again, my fault. Everything that goes wrong in his life is my fault. As if being responsible for everything wrong in my life isn’t enough, I now have to be responsible for his fucked up life too.
Because we all know he isn’t responsible for anything.
He says he stopped sending the money because he was tired of me spending it on legal fees. As if he knows what I spend my money on. Although I know he spies on me, but I’m not entirely sure how. He tells the girls he has sources but not to tell me.
He says he stopped paying child support to punish me for being a fuck up. I don’t deserve it and if I raise a stink about it he will come after me and take the girls away from me and make me pay. The local police will be called, the county sheriff will be called, along with the state highway patrol and the national guard. He’d call God too if he only believed in Him.
Restraining orders? Yeah, you stop a raving lunatic with just a piece of paper. I’ve tried. By the time the police could step in, it’s too late. I have to be here to keep the girls safe from him.
My back is to a wall. I have $9.00 to put gas in the car to get home tonight. All the change in the house won’t add up to 50 cents. I don’t know how I’m going to get to work and home the rest of the week.
Somewhere along the line there was some imagined sin I committed against him. He’s imagined it, he thought it, he got pissed off about something that doesn’t even have to be true and now I’m being punished. His life sucks and in his mind it’s my fault. And I must pay.
Tonight there will be the “I’m sorry. I really am. I know what you’re going through. I’m as broke as you are. I’ve done everything I could.” And I’ll go get the shovel to clear all the bullshit away. I’ve done all I can right here right now and that does little to put money in my pocket.
His life sucks. He’s unhappy. That is the story of his life. And I’m the one responsible and I’m the one who should have to pay for it. That’s the story of my life.
So I stand in the face of the devil himself. Tired and weary of the fight. Exhausted beyond words. But I will continue to draw my sword and fight this dragon until he once again lay slain at my feet. Because I can’t give up and I won’t give in. My girls deserve better. Much better.
The mood swings are back. How can I tell? Uh..Well, you just sort of know, ya know? Everyone around me sort of knows too. They cower in terror. I kid. Sort of.
Yesterday, it got to the point if anyone looked at me, and god forbid talked to me, I was ready (and probably able) to rip their heads off and hand it to them through their ass. (Not that that isn’t just a beautiful picture). I’ve been on edge the past few days. I’ve come home to hurricanes Tate and Newt and their path of destruction that seems to focus all of its energy on my living room. Last night when my laptop wouldn’t connect and stay connected to the internet, I was ready to throw it out the window. Seriously.
When I’m on edge like this, the girls are on edge too. They argue more or so it seems. Maybe I’m just much more aware of it. Newt is pushing everyone’s buttons, extra hard. Sometimes I wonder if she isn’t bipolar as well (I see so many of my behaviors from that age repeated in her). I’m not even sure she is aware of things enough that she could talk to someone so we could get a diagnosis. I just want to spare her the years of hell I lived in because we thought it was hormones or teenage drama or whatever.
I have an appointment in 3 weeks with my p-doc to discuss my medication. I seem to have one week a month when it just doesn’t seem to work…hmmm wonder if the timing is coincidental?? And how fucked up is it that I worry because as it is I’m only on one medication, and everyone else I’ve talked to is on a complicated cocktail? What’s wrong with me that I don’t get to take a gazillion pills a day? And what’s wrong with me for wanting to?
When I get like this I get hypersensitive to changes in people around me. And of course then I get paranoid, because well that’s just the way I roll. One neurosis isn’t enough for me. I have to have multiple.
Let’s take all of that, and multiply it by the number of card carrying members of the fucked up freak show I have in my life and you can see that I am standing on the precipice of Blithering Idiot. Just because their life is not the fairy tale they had hoped it would turn out to be, does not mean that they have to take me down with them as they watch their dreams sink to the bottom of the cesspool.
I’ve been here before. I know that one misstep could cause major catastrophe, and I’m not sure I could come out of that. I am hyperaware, and make the difficult right choice every single day. It’s not always easy, but my life will be easier because of it. It’s just that choosing to do the adult thing instead of playing like a kid is not the fun thing to do, but it’s the responsible thing to do. And I chose to be responsible.
Have you ever been in the situation where someone does or say or thinks or believes something about you that is so off the wall ridiculous that you can’t believe they actually bought into it?
Slug is once again behind in child support. I know! Shocking. Really. Raise your hand if you didn’t see that coming.
