file another one under lost weekends...

your body cannot handle any alcohol whatsover.
you cannot have just one drink.
you cannot have more than one drink.
you are poisoning yourself, and everyone around you. family, friends, boyfriend.
you cannot expect him to stay while you are screaming at him to leave.
you cannot keep him from leaving if you ask him to stay and he says no.
you cannot make him want to stay, or love you, when you are so hurtful.
you will not make him want to stay by following him around and creating disturbing scenes.
he is not your father; stop treating him as if he is so.
you are not his mother or his child. he wants an equal.
quit testing him. you will lose.
you are not four. your tantrums are no longer cute. you look like a fool.
you will not come into my home and mistreat me, my father, or him. it will not be tolerated.
you were not raised to act in this manner. quit disgracing yourself.
you are not the center of the universe.
if you want us to listen, you better open your ears.
do not ask me for advice, then do the exact opposite less than one minute later.
if you want to be respected as an adult, then you will respect us as adults.
you cannot expect to keep your job if you keep acting in this manner, or get arrested. they will not allow you to work in this field.
you cannot relieve stress by getting obliterated. it causes more stress.
enough with the "poor me" bullshit and suicidal threats. really. you do not want to lay that guilt trip on anyone. and if I hear you, you WILL be admitted. I have that power.

seek.
therapy.


love
mom

wedged in between the rock and the hard place...

into a tiny little f~n space and it hurts like a bitch!

Argh... life's lessons are coming quickly to Pickle. She barely gets through one and the next one hits. It's been a rough couple months for her.

Of course, the custody battle is done. She had to deal with the drama of the father and the grandmother. During this time her closest buddy left for basic training (or whatever you call that for the Navy), so she learned that people you love are not always nice, and people you need can't always be around.

Enter the school year... busy busy busy. Too busy. Band, choir concerts, work, calculus homework. Add the aunt's wedding and more drama with the father. She's learning the meaning of "stretched too thin" and needs to slow down.

Then the truly awful starts. A friend's father dies; a classmate is killed in an accident (non-alcohol related). The classmate's funeral is tomorrow. She comes into the office after school on Mondays and Thursdays to help out with the data entry for the software upgrade. Today she could barely sit up in the chair. She's known this kid all through school. She's only experienced a couple deaths - one a great-grandfather, and one a friend of the family. This one hits a little closer to home. We're not invincible, even at 17. I sent her home. She was sleeping when I came in from work. She was up just a bit ago to get something to eat, and her color was a little better. The school let all the seniors off tomorrow for the funeral. It's a pretty close-knit school...

She's getting a bit distant. She talks to me about "stuff" but there are times when it seems she would rather be talking to anyone else, or the wall, or a leaf in the yard. (the usual 17 thing, i guess *smile* ) I'm sure the years at her father's helped gap the relationship, even though I tried to remain steady through the shitstorm years. I remember being on the edge of 17, almost an adult, thinking I had all the answers, and not having a clue when life happened. So I have to sit back and watch and wait on both her and Junior (not something I do well) and be there when life comes raining down. *sigh*

I think some counseling with a professional would do her some good. She obviously doesn't want to talk to me, so she should be able to vent to someone safe. "Not interested." She truly worries me. This should be the most fun year for her, and it's not cooperating. bastard. i wish it had an ass i could kick.

foulness becomes me. i'm falling into a rut. i actually finished all my day-to-day work and had time to peruse my new software handbooks that arrived today. of course, my boss was pissy because he thought i was being unsocial. i was. i'm not in a bad mood, i'm just not up to social niceties right now. for cryin' out loud folks, the fact that everyone in the office is still living should be good enough for you! lmtfa. let me wallow in my foulness, my comfort zone, my zen.

i know what it is. i'm halfway to another birthday, the holidays are looming and i'm dealing with the same shit i deal with every year. another year older, nowhere near where i want, and looks like it's gonna be me and the cat for the rest of my life. i love the holidays, long as i can keep the demons at bay. this year will be fun with dad around.

i did a very grown-up and responsible thing Friday night. I did NOT go to my daughter's hs football game, playing in a local town. Why? It was best for humanity. I wanted to - she's in the flag corp. She's fun to watch; she always has such a sparkle about her. Captain Crazy was there. His son plays. this i did not need to see or be around. i fought the urge all day and into the evening. do i/don't i? should i/shouldn't i? ignore him/slap him. yea. it was a very amusing conversation running through the brain. and of course this upcoming month holds an anniversary which for the life of me i try to forget and for fuck's sake it never happens.

junior is dealing with her own stressland right now. back to school, 2 jobs, roommates who are obnoxious, lazy, and piggish. she's trying to find a way to get away from them. of course, she hasn't learned the art of social engineering yet, and tends to be a bit outspoken without tact. *sigh*

i need to go, travel, run, somewhere. anywhere. i need an adventure. i need a haircut. i need to lose 60 pounds. i need thoroughly laid.

well, least i have my cat.

who likes my dad better. *cries* i wouldn't have been sure before, but i am truly glad my father is here. he is the epitome of crotchety; a hermit to the fullest, but just so damn fun. he has stories, and talks of nature, animals, history, poetry, politics, mechanics, metallurgy, and guns. he shows me his rifle collection, recalling matches, proudly pulling out the match targets with 5 holes within a 1/2" radius, done with a 1943 browning with iron sights. it is a magnificent work of art.

i listen to his stories, mesmerized by the lilt of his voice. i am transported back to seven, all curled up on the couch listening to him read, hanging on every word. *sigh* he's the coolest.

i do have to say, i'm glad the bailout didn't make it... seriously, people need to take responsibility for themselves, their positions, and buckle down. yea, it might be hard, but i've done hard. might do some of them some good. it's a painful lesson to learn about living within your means, but it sure sticks with you. and i have enough of my own damn bills to pay - i don't want to support someone else's bad habits. but hey, if some people wanna bail 'em out, let THEM pay for it. those banks wouldn't loan me money anyway, so let the ones to whom they DID lend help them out. here's a thought: pay back the money you borrowed. THAT might help take the financial crunch away...

blah blah blah. like i'm a frickin' financial wizard. i can balance my checkbook, and i can stretch a dollar, and i can live on macaroni and butter if i need to do so. nobody pays for my mistakes...

foul foul foulfoulfoul. heh.

enough for one night... venting is good... i must be coming back because i actually felt like writing. babbling. spewing forth gibberish. yea, i know. wanna be philosopher intellect.

bite me.

Where Was I?

Oh yea.

Foul.

*sigh*

For two days, I have had limited contact with the "real" world. (As opposed to my daily non-contact with the real world.) I was buried in spreadsheets at work, trying to maintain the daily stuff, prepare the data for the upgrade, forecast and follow my schedule while being subjected to others' pig-headed non-action, and listening to my boss's inane ramblings of personal crap.

Yep, I'm in a swing where it's safer for humanity if I just stay away from everyone. The low end is near when my sense of humor disappears. Most days I am witty, amusing, verbose. These days I just let people know "I'm foul." They usually back away slowly, and have learned to not jest with me on these days. What would normally be fodder for good back-and-forth verbal sparring becomes the basis for those "Are you fucking serious?" looks and occasional acid remarks spoken in passing. Even I am amazed at my lack of usual patience with people.

Ugh. I hope it lifts soon. I believe it will; the sense of humor reared its ugly head this afternoon. One of the rail hotties (my age group, yes, married, 3 really adorable little girls, blah blah blah) was in talking to my boss today about which trailers needed loaded and was asking about where he could get some firewood. His brother is in town tonight (on short leave-they are both NG) and he wanted to have a bonfire and enjoy the evening.

"I just need enough wood for one night."

Yea. I know. I must be coming back around because I could. not. help. myself. I didn't even look up from my keyboard.

"Me too."

Now, this fella has pretty much the same crude sense of humor as I. He was dyin'.

"Um, I'm thinking in your case, plastic will do. Rubber?"

"Hell, wax at this point."

He was talking about it back in the scale room later when I was in there. "Hope ya find enough wood for the weekend." This prompted a comment from the not-so-professional Office Manager. *sigh*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So anyhow... where was I?

Software upgrade. Live date: December 1. Did I mention that this particular operation is precariously supported by a few well-designed (tyvm) spreadsheets, and bookkeeping software that is as old as my youngest girl? Seriously. It's DOS based. If you don't know what that is, you are far too young to be reading this blog. My boss doesn't want to "fix what's not broken," so is passively-aggressively stalwarting my efforts to pull this off on time, in budget. Meanwhile, I'm triple-entering everything to keep up, plus cleaning up the customer files, the accounts receivables, and the directions. He enters a dozen loads into the spreadsheet and acts like I should kiss his ass for doing what he should be doing in the first place.

Argh. The last two days, I have had difficulty being pleasant with him.
Background: The company is family-owned by mom/dad/3 brothers/1 sister, yet extremely well-run. He is one of the brothers. No one in the family has ever been divorced. Strong family, everyone pitches in, helps each other, blah blah blah. Well, over the last few months, he and his wife have been not getting along so well. She's bi-polar, and dealing with some painful past issues. He's a chauvinistic pig who thinks he should be waited on hand and foot. After 22 years of dealing with being the perfect wife, perfect mom, and perfect daughter-in-law, she's finally breaking.

Example: He told someone in the office that after she had their third child, he brought her into the office because she needed to go back to work because she was getting fat. He said he was joking. Now, after child number four, she has a figure that I would be happy to have. She's a very pretty lady. He is a toad.

So, he's been very quiet about the situation lately. Last week on Monday, she left him, so he took the rest of the week off. He came into work Friday afternoon in shorts and sandals, talking about how he'd cleaned the house, did laundry, worked out, took a nap, and was running errands, and it was no big deal.

Um, yea fucknut. But you also took 4 vacation days, and did nothing else. Here's a thought. Do all that AND work full time AND have 4 children to run after AND have someone expect to be waited on by you hand and foot AND have someone that wants you to have sex every night after they tell you how worthless you are AND know that same someone talks trash about you at work in front of strangers and family.

I can't believe she stayed this long. Supposedly they're "working it out." Now, I don't advocate divorce, unless there's abuse. Of course, from the perspective of a divorced person, I suppose it's easier looking in from the outside. What I see is that "it's all her fault, and I shouldn't have to change because I am man and therefore right." *beating of chest* yak. But really, I don't want to hear about it. I don't. It's not that I don't feel for him. Being in a bad marriage is difficult. I do not want to be perceived as being "a friend" *wink wink nod nod* because that drama I do not need. It's not that I don't care - usually I care too much and I have been trying to distance myself from unhealthy boundaries - but I don't. care. Just help me get this company into the 21st century. This is about me. Me me me. I will probably never be married again. So your "poor me" attitude about having someone around to share the burdens of life, talk to when good or bad things happen, knowing they are there for everything, not just being fuckbuddies just doesn't sit well with me.

*pity rant on*
Apparently I am one of those people who lotsa people think are cool for various reasons, fun to hang with, fuckable, but not a long-term prospect. I don't want "friends." I have enough friends.
*pity rant off*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So where was I?

Oh yea. On top of the software upgrade comes a major bid process for one of the customers. This bid is to be done online and through the internet - final date 10-28. Yep, you got it. Right smack in the middle of the software upgrade. So, of course, I am doing the major work in formatting, because my boss is computer illiterate. He has no concept. My deadline is coming up, and he needs to get me some numbers, but he has this attitude with this company because everything has to be their way, and he should just tell them to go screw themselves... yada yada yada.

STFU and get me my numbers so we don't lose the lanes simply because you're pissy.

~*~*~*~*~

where was I? Oh yea, project number 3... setting up invoicing with same major company via EDI. Well, quasi EDI. I have to update our load spreadsheet. Key in this information to the invoicing software to generate an invoice, and then transfer this information to a spreadsheet layout to email to an intermediary company who then formats it and sends it EDI. So, I'm actually doing more work than I did before, but now saving two pieces of paper, an envelope and 42 cents postage for each invoice to this one company. Help me out here.

~*~*~*~

Classes. Ahhh, sweet learning. Intellectual stimulation. Enjoying my cyber warfare class, but struggling to keep up-why I don't know. I love this stuff.

Excelling at my History of Native American class-why I don't know. I apparently love this stuff more than I thought I would.

16 week classes condensed into 8. Once those end, 2 more begin for the final 8 weeks of the semester. All spring and summer I fought with Financial Aid to get my information in so I could take classes while I wasn't busy. Now, I can't get any busier, and here we are. Chaos as normalcy.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Miss Pickle is doing well... considering. She's busy. Senior year. 3 College level classes, band, choir, show-choir, 2 part time jobs, boyfriend in the Navy. Okay, he's a recruit, graduation 10-24, THEN he'll be in the Navy.

Her father is still a putz.

Her aunt got married last weekend. I've known this woman since she was about 2. (She's 13 years younger than I.) I was invited before the court drama unfolded. Of course, both my daughters are in the wedding, so why not?

I actually had a date for this wedding. I know, crazy. Had being the operative. Something unavoidable came up mid-week, and I was then dateless. I did not have the heart or the energy to search out a replacement. Which was fine, because I got to sit with my oldest girl's pre-fiancee, but more on that later.

I show up at the church where Pickle's father and I had planned at one time to get married. The same church where the last time I set foot in it, I was attending someone else's wedding, and was 3 1/2 months pregnant with my oldest. I thought it would bother me more. Hell, I thought it would bother me. I'm seeing a few familiar faces. Names are not coming to me. I sit in the pew next to Ace (the oldest girl's man) and we start chatting. I point out certain key people to him; he tells me how he's been there since noon and it's been a really long day, and about the rehearsal dinner.

This is good. At the rehearsal, Pickle's dad is overheard telling someone that he doesn't understand why she is singing at the wedding. She's ok, but not that good. *urge to slug* What a dick. She sounded fantastic! Everyone was amazed. Even I, as much as I hear her, am awed every time I see her perform. He was talking to his girlfriend and playing with his son the whole time. Jackass. What I thought was strange was that none of them were actually watching her. (I was sitting two rows behind them.) I found out later, why.

At school, Pickle talked to one of her brothers last week. Apparently he made mention of it at home, and was bitched at for an hour and told not to talk to her. So now, he doesn't talk to her at school. She has been ostracized by her father because she chose to live with me for the last year of high school. So the other kids are not allowed to have any contact with her whatsoever. No speaking, nothing. How is that healthy? I don't have anything to do with the brothers, but I've always encouraged her relationship with them. The sins of the parents should not be taken out of the child.

So we're watching everyone walk up the aisle. Her dad has a rather large bald spot now. I told Ace that Jackass had told me once that if I got fat he'd divorce me, and I told him if he went bald I'd divorce him. I laughed and said I'd saved myself the whole problem by not marrying him in the first place.

We were so inappropriate. Making fun of people, giggling. I had a lot of fun at this wedding. How many times to you hear someone say THAT?

The ushers (Jackass and another family member) were to unroll the carpet for the bride. They grabbed the strings, and nothing. So they had to lean over and push it. They both got up, red-faced and decided that they were going to kick it down the aisle. However, this had to be done lop-sided because both of them together were wider than the aisle. So one would kick, the other would move ahead and kick, etc etc. Graceful.

The bride was beautiful. :) The dresses were elegant. The ring bearers looked like little mafia hitmen. Then outside to blow bubbles at the couple. I saw a few faces of people I hadn't seen in almost 20 years. It was difficult to place some of them, because apparently I have aged better than I thought. They all knew me. I had to keep repeating, "So sorry, the face is familiar, but the name escapes me."

Off to the reception hall. Tastefully decorated. Floating candles, which Ace managed to extinguish when he bumped the table. So we moved. Same scenario. I was not moving again. We dried out the candles and re-lit them. Ace was stellar. Ran interference for me when we were in line for the buffet and had to go right past Jackass' table. Went and got me drinks so I wouldn't have to go past them. He did good.

And then, ugh, they were calling out the single women to catch the boquet. I stood back by the entrance and just waited for the show to pass. And then... the frickin' groom came walking towards me, and dragged me out onto the floor. Bastard. Upside, my oldest girl caught the boquet. Of course, I had no chance because 1) she was blocking and tackling everyone in her way, and 2) kinda hard to catch when you are standing with feet planted, arms firmly at the side, and backing away as the flowers are thrown.

Well, even more fun. Ace caught the garter. Nice. So I stood by as Ace had to put the garter ON Junior in front of the whole hall. After we got back to the table I told him he better marry her after taking that liberty with her in front of all those people. He laughed and said he was sure it was a setup.

Well, the bride and groom got pleasantly drunk, lost their keys, and somehow my Jeep ended up carrying a lot of the stuff back to the parents' house. ??? Yea, Jackass and family left after about an hour. We were there 'til cleanup. So, I'm doing what he and his girlfriend should have been doing, helping out with cleanup and transporting of crap. He had to take one of the boys to Homecoming. Everyone was pissed about that. When Pickle wanted to go, she had to find her own way. They just don't get why he treats her this way. I do. I'm her mother. If his ex-wife were the mother, it would be different. Ahh well. To this day, he has not once called and asked her to come over or told her she was still welcome. He calls the family, asks them if they've seen her, and wants to know why she isn't coming to visit. Dumbass.

It ended well. I helped carry stuff into the house, organize the tuxes/shoes, put the dogs out, and then finally I got home around 13o. I had several friends of the ex's parents tell me I looked good, and they were glad I was well. Haha bitches. You didn't think I would be anything, and that I was gutter trash and unworthy of Jackass' name. Hmmm. And how lovely that my children grew up beautiful and healthy and responsible, and that I'm capable of taking care of myself and he's... not. Who's not worthy? So go home and choke on that for a few days.

mm mmm mmmm.... foul.

So here I am in the wee hours of the morning, blogging, because,
"not good enough, soldierette.
If I can be nagged into updating... well...
Let's go...
:) "

btw, rsm, I did not NAG you to update. I simply encouraged you awhile back to let your loyal readers know what was happening in your busy life because your stories are always so well told, and have great insight and meaning. Mine are pretty much just bitching and ranting. :)

All kidding aside, folks... to my loyal readers (all four of you) thanks for the messages. I'm ok. It could be worse... I could be living in a camper... ;)

*hugs*

I was, thankfully, too busy all day to be too nervous. I had a software demo to sit through, my day-to-day duties to get done, and a million other aggravating interruptions that kept me busy until I had to leave 2 hours early.

I called my oldest on the way to her house. This was where we were all to meet. The grandmother (Pickle's) was there, dropping off mail. She was gone by the time I made it. They had told Junior they were not going to the hearing; they wanted to stay as far out of it as possible. That had me half-pissed. Haley wanted them there for support. So it wasn't that they were "for" their son; they did not support her decision. Well, Grandpa did - Grandma did not.

We make it to the courthouse, sign in and find a seat. My attorney comes over and pulls me and Pickle to the side, to get the last-minute details down. They call us in, and here we go.

I do everything I can to pull a neutral face, and not be nervous or have a pissy expression on my face. He (the ex) sits at the table on the other side, alone, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

The magistrate starts, asks if he agrees with this temporary immediate change of custody order, to which he replies, "Yes, with the TEMPORARY order." Yea, we both caught that, too.

We get a little farther into it, and my attorney asks the court if we can come to an agreement and just settle everything today. The judge asks him to clarify.

She has stated emphatically that she wants to live with me.
She will be 18 in just over 3 months.
There is no sense dragging this out, wasting the court's time for the temporary custody pre-trial, trial, then the permanent custody pre-trial and trial.

The judge looks at EvilMan and asks him about this, since he was already agreeing to the temporary custody. We still have a couple options up our sleeves.

"Your Honor, we will waive child support for the remainder of the term of her childhood, should he choose today to settle this matter in full."

Meaning: if he drags it out over the next 9 months, I'm still responsible for support. If he chooses to do this, I will be requesting back support for these 3 months, plus the remainder of the school year.

The judge orders a 10 minute recess for the two sides to talk. Pickle and I go outside the room where her sister and the beau wait. Pickle's a nervous wreck; she just wants to be done with it and away from him.

We're called back in; the judge goes back on the record. He lets EM know that he has a right to an attorney; he has the right to a trial; to call witnesses; to cross-examine any witnesses we may call. He acknowledges. He is asked if he agrees to the terms of the agreement and if he understands said agreement. He says yes.

My turn. Right to go to trial, call witnesses, and cross-examine. Yes. Understand the terms? Yes. Is this what I wish the court to approve?

Fuck yea. Well, that's not EXACTLY what I said. I was proud of myself; I did not break out into song and dance, nor did I smile excessively. I was polite, professional, and let the judge know, I was there for Pickle, and I was ready to end the turmoil.

So granted. AND stated for the record that Pickle was allowed to come home with me, even though the papers would not be finalized for a couple days. Also on the record was a Short Order signed by the judge stating that this was effective immediately so there would be no issues with her being a runaway, or me child-stealing. Last but not least, we wanted to get her personal belongings and be done.

We walk out, and I have to speak to EM to set a time for the evening. We then go grab food (Domino's cheesy bread and chicken kickers - oh yea!) and settle in at Junior's to watch some silly bridal show about picking out dresses and reception dinners.

During a break, Junior goes out to pull laundry off the line. As she's on her way back in, I motion her into the kitchen out of Pickle's line of sight and we hug and do our own little happy dance to celebrate. "She's finally home, momma."

It's been 16 years. Long, painful, tear-filled years. Sad spots filled the empty space.

I sit here tonight and watch my youngest daughter doing her homework at our awesome kitchen table. I made supper while she read her Government homework. We ate with a little conversation; she's still getting used to being around someone who wants her around. She "lets" me hug her. *sigh* She has been in a house for nearly 10 years with no affection. That she is as caring and loving as she is is a miracle, but behind that heart is a wall.

She was exhausted. Her best friend in the world couldn't be there; her grandmother isn't speaking to her. Oh yea - didn't get to that part.

As we were driving to his house to pick up her things, her grandmother calls. (she's driving her own vehicle.) She yells at her, telling her that her dad is mad at her (the grandmother) and why couldn't she just wait until she was 18?

Oh hell no.

This is NOT her fault. She expressed to everyone that she didn't want to be there. She told her grandparents (BEFORE ME) that he had hit her over the whole prom dress thing. They knew of the times before. He is old enough to fend for himself. She was not. She does not get "blamed" for "making her dad mad."

He was pissed at Grandma long before this, and will be in the future about other things besides.

And let's review... the judge told him... he had the right to an attorney, he had the right to a trial, he had to right to contest this change of custody. He CHOSE to turn it over in exchange for not having to pay child support, thus ending the process.

So she tells her sister that no one is on her side. Her best friend is gone, and her grandmother is not speaking to her. Junior reminds her she still has her and me, and things just need to settle.

She can not fully comprehend how much I'm glad she's here, how much I've missed her over the years. I watch her read, I talk with her, and I silently give thanks because at last my child is home. It's strange, but now I feel like I can finally "start" my life. She will not understand the huge void that was there for all those years; how I lived for her to visit; how I was so sad when she was gone. All those years, robbed of the little moments of joy. All those moments cast aside by EM. She knows this; it breaks my heart. She told me not long ago that she knew now that he did not want her there, he just didn't want her with me. And now to have her grandmother treating her this way. Her heart is hurting. Maybe one day the fences can be mended with the grandparents. With the father, it's hard to tell. It's going to take some time for her to process. She has now learned the painful lesson that life is not always good, and kind, and fair. How sad that she had to learn that lesson from the ones to whom she was closest.

Even better than that awesome $30 oak kitchen table is the priceless treasure that sits there, doing her Calculus.

Tonight I am finally whole.

Sweet Surprises

A decent ending to a pretty dreadful week. I finish up at the office, change into my work clothes (haha) and head to the tavern. I find that somehow they have moved me off the schedule and I am not needed. I chit chat with the other girls for a few moments, cash my $9.15 check, and head for home. Sweet freedom. I didn't want to be there tonight. I had been told they would need help covering for people off, and I am (stupidly) responsible that way. One more week, and I'm done with them. It's a relief I can barely describe.

This week at the office has been a mix of busywork and projects. I have to keep up with my daily routine. We have spent two mornings in live demonstrations of software at which we're looking. Software that yours truly has researched, compiled quotes for, and have been told that I am lead project manager on the whole affair.

Wow. This is huge. This is a family run business in which projects are usually headed up by a family member. I am honored to have been given this measure of trust. And secretly doing a happy-dance because I am in charge of it, not the cutie-but-not-hottie foreign exchange IT guy who is chomping at the bit for me to fail this task.

We have one more software demo to sit through, then will make a decision as a group as to which one we want. From there, I am in charge of preparation, scheduling, installation, and training of the others. This I have missed. When I had my own consulting business 3 lifetimes ago, this is what I did. Systems analysis and design for other businesses and individuals. I held training classes; created and published my own manuals, and ran a store. It has been 9 years since I closed up shop, when my marriage ended and I took on the world (again).

I love the challenge, the planning, the organizing data. Turning raw information into usable facts. Setting up schematics for system organization. Finding solutions for what are not necessarily problems, but rather situations that need fine-tuning.

Our trucking company does everything by hand. Dispatching drivers is done with paper and pencil. Information tracking is handled on what is becoming a rather huge spreadsheet. The functionality works; it is cumbersome. Information is written in a book, turned over to me to put in the spreadsheet, tracked through as the paperwork comes back in, moved to different areas of the spreadsheet depending on in which phase we are - billing, payment, waiting on invoices from outside carriers, completion. When the time is right, we manually enter the information into a very old accounting program (which is no longer supported by the company) and invoices are created. Payables are done by a manual checkbook which the accountant pours over once a month. It is archaic, yet was at one time suitable for 5-10 trucks. We now have 25, and are projecting (to the best of our limited ability) growth for which we must prepare.

So I drag my computer-illiterate, pre-historic boss kicking and screaming into the 21st century. He bitches; then admits he knows it needs to be done and that is why I was hired. I've worked on computers, programmed, and set up systems for

OMG

twenty-two years now.

Holy sheep shit Batman.

*focus*

So I am excited. Not nervous. This is old hat. I wish I could get it all done in one night. I will fight myself to not rush through and overtax myself. It will be a measure of restraint.

Add to this the situation with Pickle this week. *sigh* She's holding up; she's scared and constantly battling wits with her mind-fucking father. She called Crime Victims Services. Who told her they couldn't tell her to go against court-stated documents, then turned around and called Children's Services after they told her they wouldn't without talking to her first.

Not that it matters, because CS never bothered to call back or investigate the situation. There's a shock. They're all too busy getting ready for the election, and worrying about finding other jobs.

*breathe*

'Zac: Now, Miss B, let's be fair. There are other younger children in far worse situations than Pickle who need immediate attention.

MB: Yea, so? This is MY child; they are not.

'Zac: If it were reversed and it were YOUR child being beaten, molested, burned, or sold for drugs...

MB: *waves hand* yea, yea. I know. I don't wish them harm. I would kill the bastards that did that to them myself if I could. You know the whole story.

'Zac: It will be...

*stretches neck*

I lost her once to this sociopath 16 years ago. I battled for 8 years. For most of those, I was walking dead. There was no life for me. There were the other children, and by no means do I discount them for the sake of one. Any mother who has lost a child in any capacity (death, custody, drugs) knows the anguish. There were years where I had a constant ache in my heart. I did not care what happened to me. I did not have a reason to care about my life. I existed to work, provide for the other kids, and pull myself into a fantastical world because I could not deal with reality.

Have you ever felt yourself losing your mind? Not the "where the hell are the car keys, I wish the baby would stop screaming, would someone shut that fucking dog up" lose your mind.

The sitting on the edge of the bed, holding on for dear life, rocking back and forth, scared to death because you can feel it sliding away and not knowing how to stop it, or if it will ever be right again. Seeing the look in your husband's eyes, knowing he knows, asking him if he sees it, and hearing him say yes. And even though he holds you as tight as he can, with tears running down his cheek, it's still weeks before you can get any sort of grip on reality. Knowing you can never ever trust anyone, even if they don't deserve it.

That's a scary fuckin' feeling, my friends. I do not want to take that trip again. Ever. And every time the world drops out from under me, it reminds me of that time, and to what I do not want to return.

So I wait, willing myself to calm down. Maintain one day, one hour, one minute at a time, until we go to court at 4p Tuesday for the pre-trial. The attorney is confident it will be solved that day. I am cautiously optimistic, yet am resolving myself to not hope for anything as the fickle finger of fate winds it's way through. Her father has a way of coming through things unscathed. To wish or hope that this time will be different would be foolish. Right now, the only thing holding this back is that he asked his parents for money to fight the custody hearing, and the mother told him no. We are not through court yet. She is his mother. This could very easily change.

I saw the parents at a band function this week. The father was extremely pleasant, jovial, and well-mannered with me. The mother was stoic, reserved, and very cautious around both me and Junior. Junior asked me if I noticed it, and thought she may be mad. She was too young to remember this was the way I was treated by both of them during the early years of custody fights. It stirred old feelings of apprehension and caution. This time, however, I do not have the gut-wrenching pains and nausea. I am much more in control of myself. Guess I'm a big girl now. *snort*

So I send little messages to Pickle... hi. love you. what's up? in the hopes that they somehow brighten her moments and give her the resolve to finish out the time without finding herself in a terrible spot. She starts classes Monday, and on the second day, Squid goes to the Navy, and we go to court. I must remain calm and strong for her. She has a reserve of strength that has surprised even me, yet I see it cracking. She's reaching her breaking point. She already knows life is not good, and kind, and fair. She still has that effervescence, that life, that joie de vive. I'm not ready to see that die. She will miss Squid terribly. He is a good friend to her. He has been a solid rock of peace and comfort for her. How cruel, life's irony. He cannot be there when she needs him the most, though he would give a limb to do it. She puts on a brave front, but this will be her first big heart-break. I hope she realizes that it is not because he didn't want to be there; the timing just didn't work out right.

As for other surprises, this week my oldest came home from her vacation with a "promise ring." A beautiful 3 stone with stones down the side, small white-gold promise ring. We talked about what it meant, and was she willing to take that step, and about her father issues, and not treating her fella badly, because he's not her dad. I also saw him at our mother/daughter night out on Wednesday. He only had a 20 minute break for class, otherwise he would have been given the riot act for not talking to me before giving her this ring. He, however, was smart enough to know that he was just biding his time, and his expression showed he understood that fact. LOL. I love terrifying them. It's not intentional; it's just so damn easy.

Last night my father told me he wanted to see a doctor to do something about the Parkinson's. He's talked to people who have used meds and can get the shaking to stop. He is concerned about the known compulsive side effects. This is a huge breakthrough. This man has been to a doctor once in his adult life. Only because my mother tricked him and told him she needed to go and he needed to drive her. :) My parents are great. I did not bring it up because I knew unless it was his idea, he would not be receptive. So I hid my surprise behind the awesome grilled ham and steaks and cauliflower (meatfest!) and told him I'd find one.

People are leaning on me. Needing me. Asking me for help and guidance. People to whom I've turned for guidance and help. People whom I thought would never see potential in my abilities or . It is......... strange.

From my spot in the living room, I can see my father sleeping in his room. The low light shines across his face. He is peaceful. I thought it would be more difficult having him live with me. It is surprisingly pleasant. I am extremely grateful for this time with him. So I sit back, and look forward to the next conversation, the next shared movie, the next grill-out.

Unlike Dork, who has called and texted me several times this week. I just did not feel like dealing with his childish drama. He knows what's going on, but not having any kids, cannot relate, cannot comfort, cannot be someone I turn to for support. I suppose I need to end it properly. He will just have to wait until we get through the worst of it.

Mr M has sent little joke messages, called once, and occasionally I catch him on Yahoo (I've had little time to be on it at work-too much happening). He asks about Pickle, he sends words of encouragement (and of course words of ribald jokes and crude innuendos) that bring a smile, even if I don't have the energy to respond. I try to remember to thank him. It's been so long since I've had anyone to turn to for support of any level, I sometimes forget my manners. silly.

So I'm off tonight, and just vegged out, finished a book, watched a movie, took a nap, and finally had to write. I'm mulling things about the work project in my mind. I've told myself I'm not going to dedicate my entire weekend to it, but I know that once I start actually drawing the process boards, reorganizing the information, and working on the plan, I will not be happy until the process is complete. Work is my escape. I must escape from my escape.

I feel the pains coming back into my shoulders and neck. I must keep busy this weekend, for I cannot afford to sit and dwell on Pickle. The mind can twist you into roads you should not travel if left alone too long. So I will clean, organize my room, ready the house for the fall, and prepare for my classes which start in a week and a half. Ahh, the sweet sanity of structure and fact.

In the words of Pickle, I'm such a dork. *grin*

Daddy Dearest...

*begin rant*
You are a worthless, piece of shit, mother-fucking asswipe who does not deserve to be called "father."
*end rant*

Pickle had to go home tonight for the summer. (One week before school starts.) She got to her father's house, (remember, she does not have a key) to find that in her absence since last weekend, he has:

~ taken everything from her room, boxed it up and put it in the GMC Jimmy that graces the driveway because it hasn't run in years

~ moved his "stuff" into what used to be her room

~ told her she could sleep in the "game room" (where they have the computer/games set up)

~ will put a bed in there for her tonight

~ told her she doesn't need a room there anymore since she's not going to be there

*pulls hair, drools, has stabbing fantasies*

AAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH

She tells me this in a dead voice. I just want to reach through the phone lines and yank her back over here to safety.

I ask her if her grandparents know. She says she doesn't know. I ask if she wants me to call them; she says she really doesn't care anymore. *sigh* If I call them, is it really going to do any good? The situation would be made worse because of it. I know this; she knows this, too. The grandfather would probably shoot him.

hmmm.

No. Must not think pleasant thoughts.

Anyhow, a week from Tuesday. 8.5 days 'til the pre-trial. Hopefully we won't have to go any farther than that, otherwise it's the end of September. Legally, all he has to provide her is a room, a bed, food and clothes. Looks like he's only doing what he absolutely has to do. There's a shock.

*Turrett's*
Motherfucker
Sonofabitch
Cocksuckin piece of shit
*end Turrett's*

I told her if she could do it without getting herself into trouble or hurt, to take pics of where they are making her sleep and what he's done with her room with her camera phone or her digital camera. I will see her on Wednesday. I let her know I would be contacting the attorney tomorrow.

It's going to be difficult to behave like an adult when he's acting like such a FUCKING DICK.

*headache*

A Pinch of This; A Dash of That

I Can See Clearly Now...

So I'm getting ready to go somewhere yesterday, and I shower up and get my contact case out to "put in my eyes." I have the "disposable" kind, and just switched to a new pair at the beginning of the month. Depending on the day, how much time I have or how late I was up the night before, I have no trouble, or lots of trouble getting one or both in from time to time. This day was no exception. I get the left one in with only minor aggravation, but it doesn't seem quite right at first. Of course, looking around with only one in makes everything fuzzy. So I fight with the right one for about seven minutes; it hurts, and keeps popping out. wtf? I put it back in the case to re-wet it, pick it up, and discover that not only do I have my contact, but I have the OLD one from last month that apparently I've forgotten to dispose of, glued to the new one. Well, dumbass, that would explain why when it WAS in for a moment, the world was extremely difficult on which to focus. *sigh* Out with the old, and Voila! The world and all its beauty is clear to me. And the redness in my eyes from messing around with them... great, I have that 70's stoner look. Sweet.

Fun in the Sun

Which is exactly what I need today. Today my youngest daughter, her "friend" (say "Guy Friend who is due to ship out to the Navy in three weeks"), me, and a fellow I've been "hanging out" with are going to Cincinnati OH to watch a semi-pro football game in which his team is playing. By his team, I mean of which he's a team manager, and very proud of it. That's cool. I love football. I can appreciate a good game. However, I do not need a 2 1/2 hour dissertation on it, the message board for the team, and the whining of the inner-workings of it. Kinda takes the fun out of it, yannow?

Anyhow. This fella, we'll call him D, lives and breathes this stuff. That's cool. I was a football widow when I was married. We all have our "thing." He knows both my daughters - we'll get to that in a minute - and is four years younger than me. Not a horrible stretch, normally.

Here's where it gets interesting.

D is yakkin' on about all the above, Pickle and Squid (buahahaha) are in the back reading magazines (Discover, Scientific American - I'm all about expanding the mind) and listening to music, and I'm driving (duh) trying to navigate through various stages of idiots in travel, wondering why I agreed to come along when by the time we hit the ramp for the freeway half a mile from where we met, I'm ready to drop him off at the side of the road. Cool. Only 2 hours and 15 minutes left of a 2:20 drive.

D is a touchy-feely kinda guy. I'm not normally opposed to that. Every gal wants to know her man wants to touch her. Did you hear me say WANTS? This I did not. I think it aggravates him. I know it does. He whined about it another night. Guess that's a clue, scooby-doo.

Anyhow, we get down there, and it's 97 degrees. Great. I'm not a sun-bunny. Too fair, and take some meds that make me pretty susceptible to sunburn. So I have my 50 SPF sunblock, yes 50, that of course, I leave in the jeep while we're in the stands. I'm sucking down water, so you know it's hot, because I cannot stand water normally. I have on this white T-shirt with shorter sleeves than my other shirts. This I can tell, because today my upper arms look like neopolitan ice cream. You know, the chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla all in one container. So I've burned between what's normally covered, and my farmer's tan. Sweet. However, I no longer look like Casper on the bottom of my legs. Acceptable.

So D is on the sidelines with the team, and I find myself searching him out. Squid says he's easy to spot because he has a unique look. I find myself mentally calling him Dork. Where's the Dork? C'mon Dork. Oh, I'm going straight to hell for this one. But the kids agree, he acts like he's 15. Clue number 2, Scooby-Doo.

After the game is over (56-0 btw - our team is defending National Champion) we head to BW3 (That's Buffalo Wild Wings) for some food and team socializing. Which would be great, if we KNEW anyone on the team. Let me back up. We park, and hop out. He takes off and says he's going to go get a table. ??? K. The kids wait the EXTRA 15 SECONDS for me to secure everything and we walk in the door. We wander around like some bumpkins in a big city - um yea - and finally spot him over yakkin' with some of the team members. We make our way around, and he THEN starts searching for a table. Wait, here it comes *claps hands over mouth* Dork.

So we sit, Squid holds the chair out for Pickle - um, no, I got my own, thanks - order drinks and appetizers. D and I are joking back and forth - the waitress says, "You two are married, aren't you? It's ok, I'm married, I can tell." I think she missed the look of horror that crossed both our faces. Squid and Pickle are having a good laugh at that one. D orders a beer. Not a problem. I'm driving, I'm in a place where I really don't know anyone, and I have my kids. Soda for me. He wanders off and starts talking to some of the players, high-fivin' yada yada. I look at Squid and Pickle.

"Am I a snob?" They look at me; ask me what I mean. I explain. As you get older, your criteria for finding someone changes. At this point, I'm at Single/Pulse/Job. Usually I get two of the three. Ok, technically he qualifies. He's never been married, is breathing of his own volition, and works as a shift manager at a pizza place. (This is how he knows my oldest daughter, who is working there while she goes to college - *sniff* proud mom moment, but another story for another time.) He's a nice enough guy. Not bad looking. (here it comes) but...

Lives and breathes this football team, (AND STUPID HUMOR MOVIES-OMG Mr M will appreciate this - D wants me to go see "StepBrothers" with him in the worst way) and lives with his parents.

Now, stop there. I live with my dad. Squid reminds me, Dad moved in with ME. So I am not living "at home with my parents." I am fully capable of supporting myself, and have been for 20 years. K. Point taken.

Squid says, "Here's how I see it... he acts like a kid, lives with his parents, and he really doesn't know how to act socially with a female. He wanders off and leaves you sitting. I held the door for Pickle, and pulled out her chair, and usually if a guy sees another guy doing that, he'll follow suit - he didn't. He's out with you and your family, for the first time, and drinks beer. Not that there's anything wrong with beer, but the first time, he should have stuck with pop or something. He just doesn't seem like a good fit." Of course, I'm paraphrasing, but that's the gist of it. He's surprisingly bright for an 18 year old guy.

So I didn't throw a fit or anything; we just grabbed a game computer and started playing some games while he was off for 45 minutes somewhere. The third time. The first two times he was standing with his back to us, talking to a group of people right behind us, and only turned around once to set his empty glass on the table. MMM-kay. Now, I'm not a social queen, but several people came up to him, and kept looking over at us while they were talking, and he never introduced us to anyone. I overheard someone ask if I was his "woman" (buahahaha) and he said no, we just came to watch the game and we were going out. Good answer D.

Anyhow. On the way home, after he about hits me in the face with the door he goes through ahead of me and lets swing shut, he's going on about the game, the players, the refs, and checking the message board for the team on his cell phone. Did I mention that every time I'm around him, he's glued to that thing? He's checking texts, or message boards, or scores, or SOMETHING. I can't have a conversation with him without him pulling out the phone and repeatedly checking it. How rude. I keep my phone with me when I'm on dates, but I normally do not answer it or do anything else on it, unless it's one of my kids, to make sure they are ok. I hate phones. It comes from having a previous job where it was nothing for me to take 300 phone calls in a 12 hour shift. I would much rather talk online and in person than have a receiver glued to my ear. I have a short attention span on phone calls, even if I'm doing nothing else. Captain Crazy always said, the phone has no constitutional right to be answered. He was right. I lived for 20 some years without a cell phone. It's a great convenience, but not a necessity. And if someone is more interested in texting or talking to someone else while they're with me, then they're not really all that interested in me.

So where was I? Oh yea. Am I a snob? Here's a fellow who's made it known he's extremely interested in something long-term and serious. But really, how serious can one be with someone who lives with their parents, makes half what I do, and has no ambition to do anything other than make enough to buy a new cell phone and team-wear for the team he manages? Don't get me wrong - I don't need someone who's constantly climbing the corporate ladder, but when I go into the bookstore in the mall and am made fun of because I LIKE TO READ and learn about new things, and have interesting conversations about things other than sports, it kind of irritates me. I don't need someone to buy me "stuff". I buy my own "stuff." But I like to do things, go places, occasionally travel without having to hear about every single penny. And let's do something, anything, besides meet at McDonald's.

*sigh* yea. I'm thinking that this one is not going to work out so well.

Daddy Day Care

So my dad has settled in comfortably. He putters around the house at all hours of the day and night. He grills out and has great MeatFests. (The steaks are FABULOUS) and he tells stories. I've seen a side of him I never knew existed. Apparently he was quite the jokester at work when he was younger. Things like taking a fellow's phone, telling maintenance not to replace it, then going around to all the different departments all day, and telling them to page this fellow, knowing he'd have to walk to each individual department because he no longer had a phone. *shakes head*

Or, when he worked in an area that was elevated surrounded by big windows, with only one doorway in, seeing one of the guys bringing a group of big-wigs from another company coming and his co-worker prints up a sign that says Use Other Door. He tells him, "You can't do that." The other guy asks why. He says, "You have to say Please." So they put Please Use Other Door on the front of the entrance, then stood back and laughed watching these people search for half an hour for another entrance that did not exist, making this poor guy look like a jackass. The group never did make it into that area.

Or the time he had this fellow and gal on one of the lines convinced that the plant was built on an Indian burial ground. (She claimed she was a witch.) To which the plant owner came round the corner one day to these two on the production line surrounded by lit candles, holding a seance, trying to raise the dead spirits. Seriously. No worries, folks, they still had their jobs. They were just warned that my dad was full of shit and to not listen to him.

My dad was twisted. I now know from where I get it.

Anyhow, he's a quiet fellow, kind of a hermit, doesn't care much for people. He was talking to my mom on the phone (they're still friends) and goes into the bathroom to shave or something. Meanwhile, someone I know comes over to try to rope me into having a catalog party for something, and has her 3 year old girl with her. I let them know he's in there so he doesn't scare them when he comes out. He's very quiet. For a long time. I'm finally getting ready to check on him when he comes out, phone in hand, and shuffles on through to the sunroom. I don't think anymore about it, til I'm outside saying bye to them, and he comes pulling up in his car. ???

I talk to my mom later that day, to find out he was in there, heard them come in and didn't want to embarrass me by them seeing a crazy old man in the house. So he had his shoes and his keys in the sunroom, snuck out the back, and went around to the car to go get something to eat. Oh for crying out loud. I don't give a shit what people think of my dad. Let's review. He raised me. He took care of me when I was sick. He taught me values, and morals, and the joy of learning. He still calls me his "little girl." He is allowed to be in any room at any time doing (almost) anything he wants. Goofball. I could just squeeze him. :)

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Well, Pickle has been here for the summer. Her SENIOR summer - my gawd is she that old already? She was just 3, running around naked on my mom's farm. buahahaha - I love her.

She does NOT want to go back to her dad's. Those of you readers remember earlier this summer when he punched his 64 year old father on his birthday, locked her out of the house and basically threatened that she would pay for embarrassing him by telling him in front of me and his parents that she wanted to live with me.

Well, after struggling with getting the retainer paid (the deposit crossed with the check - THAT was fun), paying off old court fees, and 3 trips to the juvenile court house, we FINALLY got a hearing date for our Immediate Temporary Change of Custody request. The second day of school. *sigh* great. This means that she will have to go back, because we will be in contempt and I will go to jail if she doesn't. The "Pre-Trial" is at the end of September. So unless things go really well at the Immediate hearing, she may be well into the school year before we change. Which is no big deal; she's already been accepted in Open Enrollment, so there will be no change in schools. I got the letter for the court date Friday. Apparently he got his Saturday because I got a phone call on my cell from his cell number about the time their mail runs. No message. No phone call to Pickle. He told her she "had to" come home this weekend, last time she was there. This is strange because he told her she didn't have to come home all summer if she didn't want. Argh.

She's really blossoming this summer. She's going and doing, seeing friends, movies, hanging out, being a kid. And still, she follows the rules, the curfews. Would be great if she helped with the housecleaning and cleaned her room from time to time (hint, hint) ;) but it's summer. I'm not doing much more than the necessary right now either. This is the first summer I've "enjoyed" in a long time. But that's another day.

My hope is that when she goes back for the weekend, he doesn't grill her or get nasty with her. I haven't said much to her about it, except that she doesn't have to discuss it with either one of us. That's between me and him. She's made her choice, and long as she stands by it, we'll deal with the end result.

Blah Blah Blah

I had a conversation with Mr M a few weeks ago about the whole custody thing. He's been through it from the other end, so of course there were some points of contention. That's one of the cool things that I can converse about with him versus D. D has no kids, never been through any kind of custody issue. He does not grasp. We were talking about the whole support thing, and how it maybe should be handled.

My dad asked me how I think it was going to be for him should the courts let her stay with me, knowing he wouldn't receive support anymore and how he would survive. I told him that was not my concern. He did not concern himself when I had to work three jobs to pay support to him, and afford to live and raise my other kids. Cold? Maybe. Warranted? Absolutely. I don't hate. I just don't, anything, as far as his welfare goes. He stopped being my problem many years ago.

~*~*~*~*~

so there it is folks... phew. Isn't life grand? Off to wait on rich boat people... have a stellar day!

*hugs*
miss b

Today I'm Seven...

and a princess once again.

I have the flu. The yucky, fevery, achy, lay on the couch because it hurts too much to move flu. I left work at lunch yesterday, and called off from the tavern last night. Not the norm.

Of course, I have Dr Dad and his favorite two prescriptions: Listerine and Vicks Vap-o-rub.

Stop laughing.

Seriously, unless you have tried it, don't knock it. You can't breathe? Boil a half pan of water, put a glob of Vicks in and lean over it. I hadn't been able to breathe through my nose for two days. It was WON-DER-FUL. Of course, don't open your eyes, because it will sting like a motherfucker.

Anyhow. Listerine. The nectar of the Gods. The crass, harsh, sting like a thousand wasps, gag a maggot nectar of the Gods. This stuff is foul. And you gargle with it every time you move. It knocks the piss right out of the bug, and keeps the infection out of your lungs. But you have to gargle it deep in your throat, not just swish it around. You'll know you're doing it right when you tip your head back, feel the foul burning run down your throat and quickly move forward to puke in the sink. Excellent.

Laugh if you may, but my dad has used that every day for as long as I can remember, and the man has missed only 3 days of work from being ill in 38 years. Seriously. One of those days was because of a fall he had taken and hurt his back. Actually, he probably just rubbed Listerine on the hurt part and it killed off the sore flesh.

So as I'm in and out of consciousness, tossing and turning, sweating and shivering, I wake to Dad sitting in the chair across from me, silently keeping watch to make sure every time I wake up I use my Listerine. He brought me two plastic cups. One to drink from and one to spit into. (Please don't spill the spit cup) And as I'm feeling better at times and wanting to get up and do things, I'm told to lay back down and rest. That's the only thing that's going to kick this; rest, vicks, and listerine.

Who's taking care of whom here?

Anyhow... hope you're all having a wonderful weekend. More dad stories, and lots to catch up on when I can sit up a little longer.

the greatest night ever...

i just spent four and a half hours with the most amazing man.

we talked of politics, life, history.

we had supper together that i cooked (which of course was wonderful!)

we shared views on movies, books, and travels he had been on in the past.

i thought of nothing and no one else but him and what he was saying.

and for those few, brief moments, i was the happiest girl in the world.

i love you dad <3

He Hit Her

Unfuckingbelievable.

Sunday night, ranting and raving about not getting the prom picture, he tears apart the armoire in her bedroom, pieces flying and doors breaking. He then hits her upside the head and as she turns to protect herself, again on the shoulder.

With his fist.

*blink*

I find out about it tonight.
And it's not the first time.

She was too scared to say anything before because she didn't want to make it worse.

The grandparents knew of the other times.

And Did. Not. Tell. Me.

*breathe*

I am calm-angry. You know the kind. The wheels are turning, the head spinning, and the need for silence to think is upon me.

Wait til you hear the REAL reason he was upset. Not because of the pictures, but because I ruined his junior prom by not going with him (we dated all through high school off and on) and now I've ruined HER junior prom FOR him because I got pictures with her and he didn't.

Are you fucking kidding me? What are you, twelve? Junior prom was 22 years ago. What does that have to do with anything at all about her prom now? You yelled this at her, and of course, because it was oh I don't know, FOUR YEARS BEFORE SHE WAS BORN, she didn't have a clue what you were talking about.

You

are a fucknut. A miserable excuse for a human being, and not worthy of being her father.

I'm so pissed off I've got a migraine coming on...

We interrupt this blog for this public service announcement...

*beep*

I must take care of this... I feel some crazy days coming soon...

hug your kids.
NOW.

Isn't she lovely...

My babygirl.

Junior Prom.

Almost grown up.

She says, "Mom, I feel so pretty."

*bawl*

You are, kiddo, you are.

*begin rant*
Fast forward to today. She is grounded until school is out. She has had her cell phone taken away. She has had her car taken away. She must ride the bus and is allowed to go only to school functions and home.

Why? It was my weekend. She made plans to spend the night with a girl friend. (A group went stag together.) She ended up not staying at that friend's house, but elsewhere. When asked, she told the truth, as she always does.

The kicker: she was not grounded by me, but by her father, with whom she lives. (I find all this out tonight - because I cannot reach her and her sperm donor is not man enough to call me and tell me.)

*sigh*

Let's review. It's MY weekend. It is not YOUR place to punish her. She is a 4.0, goes to school, to work, and to grandma's. In case you don't remember, dumbass, I was THERE when you were at your prom. And after. And after after. Until roughly 11 am THE NEXT MORNING when we got home. She was at work by 8 this morning. What a horrible child. Moron.

Don't even go there with me. You fought and connived and twisted until you got the courts to let you keep her. You wanted to raise her with little input from me. You made sure of it. So don't look to me for support in your little self-pity tirade (yea, she didn't come home to have a picture taken with you - you were at your son's ball game and weren't even THERE!) You want your "all powerful control" over her, you got it. However, YOU alone must deal with the consequences of your actions. Your relationship with her, or lack thereof, is of your own making.

So I will pick her up on Wednesday, as I always do, and there will be NO shit from you.

*end rant*

moms say the darndest things...

I love being the parent of adult kids. I can now get away with saying things that totally blow their mind, acting all innocent and amusing myself.

case in point...

Me and the girls got together last night for dinner. We're chatting away and catching up with each other. Junior is being stalked by Little Yard Guy (mental note - kick his ass for telling her boss she is a stupid slut) and seeing someone new and having a "grown-up" relationship. Pickle broke up with her little friend (awww) and is now seeing someone who has been in love with her since the 5th grade. *sigh*

Anyhow, they ask me if I've been seeing anyone. I tell them I've gone out a few times with a fella.

and let the inquisition begin...

junior: who is he? where's he from?
me: just a guy.
pickle: would we approve of him? is he nice to you? does he treat you with respect?

me *deadpan*: well, yea, when he's not yankin' my hair or spankin' my ass.

buahahahahahahaha

junior/pickle: omg mom! we don't need to know that. that's so wrong.

junior: so are you having sex with him? 'coz you know it's ok if you have sex.

me: omg - ewwww. what?!!!

junior: so you are.

me: OMG what???!!!

sometimes it's soooo easy.

a walk through my childhood... oh, and fast forward to old frickin' age

tonight was a fun night. me and the two girls for dinner. (on me of course, because full-time students with part-time jobs are ever-so-slightly poorer than i.)

i pick up pickle. she tells me about her prom dress, her competition this past weekend for solo & ensemble ("1" on both the woodwind quartet AND her singing solo - the highest score *proud mom moment # 18,473*) and the news of the latest struggle with her father. she's decided she's going pre-med, neurology. possibly pediatrics. we discuss college options, and how we need to get on the ball this year for apps and funding searches.

we get to junior's place (which is also pickle's grandparents.) junior had been fighting the flu for a week. she went to the er once, and again to the doc's. strep test negative, but if the latest round of meds doesn't kick her out of it, they're testing for mono. great. good gravy, she's costing me more now that she's an adult than she did as a kid.

anyhow, chit-chat with the elders and decide to go on into town. my hometown. where i have not been back to in close to 15 years. it's grown so much, and yet, it's STILL a 3 stoplight town.

park in front of the old diner to find it is now a mexican restaurant. awesome. and pretty decent food, although not as spicy as i'd like. decide to walk through town to see what's changed. man.

old bar is now an investment place. (hint? maybe) senior citizen's center is still there - guess people are still getting old in town. the pharmacy moved 2 doors down and got pretty good sized. down around the corner to show them the house in which i was raised. told them of the layout inside. shared a story of me and my brother climbing out my parents' window to play on the roof until a "concerned" neighbor called my mom and let her know we were out there. busybody bitch. we were having fun! and it was ONLY one story up for cryin' out loud. of course, we were 3 and 5. showed them where the trees used to be before the city cut them down. laid out the area between our old sidewalk and the neighbors' which was the perfect distance for kickball, football, and gymnastics contests. And now would suck because someone planted a tree right in the middle of the property line. how gauche. told them the stories of me and my brother riding our hot wheels (with racing stripes!) down the hill in front of our house to which we would yank on the cool hand brake, skid the tires and whip around to a stop. walked back uptown and showed them the wall of the theater where on a cold day i swooped into the alley, lost my footing, hit the wall and broke my skateboard. it was a cool board, too, back before they got really wide and hard to handle. walked downtown, showing them where the old jewelry store used to be, the pizza place where i worked when i was preggers with pickle, and the cool library in the high school basement BEFORE they built the great big one that pickle loves so much.

then we went to the coffee shop. that used to be the pirates cove burger joint. that used to be terry's drive-in malt shop and had the best. pizza. ever. wow. big culture change there. although, it was awesome. they had cappucinos, espressos, lattes, smoothies, books AND magazines. cool books and mags. (lisa scottoline, patricia cromwell, scientific american, archaelogy, discover) woo hoo! we were in heaven. we sat there for about an hour acting all grown-up and pretentious like we were educated or something.

then we started the long walk back across the three blocks of town. down past the bank that had a long brick wall where i and my ruffian friends used to sit in the middle of the hot summer nights and watch the car (yes, one - usually the cop) go by. showed them where the cool brick and stone water fountain used to be that the city spent $1000 on and is now no longer. found a cool used book store that we shall come and visit, and got back to the jeep to head back.

back to drop off junior, chit chat with the elders, look at the prom dress (very elegant!) and discover neck hair.

Oh
My
Gawd

I'm sitting there in the chair conversing with the ex-in-laws, and i rub my neck (which has an aggravating dry patch that mysteriously showed up a week or so ago - no idea from where. no new soaps or lotions) and discover a hair just under my jawline. thinking it is a stray that maybe stuck because i dribbled super latte or something, i try to remove it to find I CAN'T. not wanting to be offensive (i wasn't raised right but i wasn't raised rude) i just let it go until pickle and i got out to the jeep. we get a ways down the road and i turn the inside light on to see if she could see it (she could) and if it looked like it was stuck. i tugged on it, and apparently it was pretty comical because she just burst into gales of laughter (i'm giggling as i think about it) and i could barely contain myself.

who the fuck gets neck hairs? correction: ONE neck hair? nearly two inches long? ATTACHED???? for the love of all that's holy, i wash my face every day! i put face cream and foundation on EVERY DAY. would you not think i would notice a stray hair growing out of my neck?!!! and to top it off, it was a straggly, coarse, fucking GRAY hair!

as i see it, there are several potential problems here:

1) if i'm suddenly sprouting strange hairs - why?

2) if i didn't see it over the course of time it took to grow this long, what the hell is wrong with me?

3) if it grew nearly 2 inches since at least lunch time - which is the last time i remember rubbing my neck because it was "wing wednesday" and of course i had chicken grease flying everywhere - what in god's name is wrong with my system that i'm super-producing single hair strands?

4) how many people saw this and didn't say anything (as i'm thinking no wonder they're looking at me like i have 3 heads. no, dumbass, it's because you have one hair. GROWING OUT OF YOUR NECK!) this is worse than that one hair that grows out of your nipple, or on your belly. i can't remember the last time i shaved my legs and my leg hair is NOWHERE near as long as that was.

not only am i going to be the little old lady with 47 cats, i will be the little old lady with 47 cats AND strange facial hair. you've seen them. you know what i'm talkin' about. the dour old women with friggin' cat whiskers growing from their faces. *cries* life is so cruel.

so i drop off pickle and head home, playing with the hair the entire time. sick, twisted, and strangely comical. home to the bathroom with great lighting to discover the horror for myself. washed my face to try to convince myself it was just a stray stuck in chicken grease (it wasn't.) plucked it and hope no one mentions it tomorrow. it may take me awhile to live this one down. hell, it may take therapy!

anyhow... stellar girls' night out. these are the mom moments i love most.

*hugs*

Add another to the "what the fuck did I see in him?" column...

Pickle called at 11:15 tonight; her voice told me she was frightened.

"What's up?"
"Can I come over?"
"Yes, you can always come over. Are you alright?"
"I had to drop A off (the boyfriend) and it started snowing and I can't see anything and I'm really scared."

She was a mile away at the exit for my town, waiting to see if I'd let her come over or if she had to drive the rest of the 25 miles back to her dad's. She asked me to call her dad to let him know what was up and she'd call him when she'd get here. (They were taught not to talk on the phone without a headset, and not at all in bad weather.)

I call him. He proceeds to ask me if she was even here over the weekend. What a fucknut. He's possessed with this idea that she's at A's house when she should be here, fucking her little brains out. Well, Einstein, YOU'RE the one who forced her to get on birth control when she didn't want to because she was 16. Just because she's protected doesn't mean she's going to do it, and vice versa. Anyhow, I said yes she was here after work on Saturday until Sunday afternoon when she went to the Super-Bowl party AT HER GRANDMOTHER'S. (His mother's.)

For God's sake... she's a 4.0 National Honor Society working teenager with a fascination for all music and involved in several clubs. She's a pleasant child whom everyone likes, and you are constantly riding her ass over drug-induced imagined transgressions.

Anyhow... point being, she lives in a box. She was taught to drive, but not allowed to drive in snow. Ok. The first year, yes. But this is year two, and she is scared to death, and tired from fighting the snow for the last hour. She does the right thing. She gets off the road to a safe place, thus saving her life and possibly others'. So you yell at her and tell her now's the time to learn? Are you fucking stupid? It's 11:30 at night, snow/freezing rain, she drives a geo metro (no weight, no traction) and you want her to drive down 2 lane roads that have yet to be salted or plowed because you don't want her here on a night that's not "mine."

She gets to my house and calls to let him know she's here, and what's happening. He's yelling at her that she's spending the night here with A, and other inane ramblings. I'm beyond pissed.

By the time she gets off the phone, she's a wreck, with tears and sniffles. Her grandmother calls to make sure she's alright, and they come to get her and her car. (Grandpa drives the geo, and she's in the truck with grandma.) I had offered to take her home, but she would have been stranded without a car until Monday night after I got off work.

The grandparents get here, and tell her it was pretty bad out coming in to town. It was more sleet than snow at this point. Thank God at least she has someone to tell her father that the weather over here was bad. He's convinced that I'm conniving with her against him. Grow up, shithead. She's making good, sound decisions and you're making her second-guess herself all the time. She's strong as I was; she'll overcome you. Right now, she's exhausted and just doesn't understand why when she did the right thing, she gets in trouble.

Because your father is a dick. I'm sorry I didn't tell you this before, Pickle. I apologize that you must suffer at the hands of a complete moron because he is a total control freak and he despises that you are me. 20 years younger. It's not you. You are a beautiful girl, with a beautiful mind, and a warm smile to match your huge heart. You will be free one day and I will miss you when you go, but I know you'll come visit me.

She asked me why he couldn't be more like grandpa. *sigh* He was at one time, and things got in the way after he got out of school. Grandpa doesn't smoke dope and drink excessively. Your father's paranoid, and lazy, and will never be more than he is today. I tried to get you, so much so that after years, the judge told me to knock it off because he couldn't see moving you from the home when you were so well-adjusted and doing well in school. Well, sure. When you live in a box and school is your only escape, yea. That doesn't teach you to be a socially adept person. Luckily, outside influences have helped.

Argh. Add another one to my "I wouldn't wish him dead, but if he fell off the face of the earth I would not be sad" list...

Pukin' Turkeys, Stupid Shoppers and Kickin' Bass Players

These are what comprised my holiday weekend. It was a non-typical non-stop weekend.

Wednesday I get off work, travel 30 miles south, sign papers to lower payments on the jeep (yay!), grab cupcakes for my awesome niece and nephews, get my hair cut, get back home in time for my son and his father to show up from KY. Shortly after, my two daughters and THEIR respective others show, and it's a housefull!!!!

On the upside -- my bed is now assembled, my washer and dryer are hooked up, the vcr/dvd is now usable, and I had a "date" for my office Christmas party on Saturday.

Thursday morning, run around, get stuff together, drive 3 hours to my brothers', and have the best. time. ever.

My brother HATES gravy. With a passion. Makes him gag just to look at it. I swear he was adopted. My sister in law - the coolest ever - has a gravy boat in the shape of a turkey. It's kickin'. My brother hates it. When you pour out the gravy, it comes through a hole in the beak. To him, it appears the turkey is puking all over your food. It's AWESOME!!! (He's such a whiny butt!)

And then... and THEN...
Oh
My
Gawd

They have a WII. For those of you stuck in the past, these are the new Nintendo virtual reality games and they. Kick. ASS.

We played the basic games that come with the system (bowling, tennis, golf, baseball, and boxing) and the kids (his - 7 and 4) are great at this! I tested out at 71 years of age. Look, I don't play baseball or golf. But I did kick ass at boxing and bowling.

I have to have one.

NOW.

At least before my New Year's Eve party... dude, seriously, drunk boxing? It sounds almost as good as drunken Twister!!!

Downside - my Emmy Bug (my only niece) is not my bug anymore. I was bowling, I stepped backwards as she walked behind me, stepped on her foot and knocked her skinny little, two-year-old butt right down to the ground. I couldn't hold her, she wouldn't talk to me and she was NOT MY BUG. *wahhhhh*

Anyhow... amid all the fun, my SIL talks me (the ever-hating anti-shopper) into going to a couple midnight and 5 am sales.

*mental note* next year if she brings this up, punch her in the nose.

400 people lined up at value city. an hour to get through the checkout. a fight (no really) in the parking lot. Upside - got an mp3 player for my son for $13.82. Then off to Wal-Mart. Stupidity abounds. It was fairly quiet until about 4:15, then they came out like great waves of roaches. Shoppers... in pajamas... barely awake... like zombies with sale ads attached to their hands. It was nuts! Upside - got a microwave for $25.

Never again.

Long ride home, just in time to get back for... da da daaaa... colorama bowling! Yay! 3 hours of "just let me sleep between frames".

Home to bed, up early the next day for kids, friends, pictures, YAY. First time in 15 years I've had all three kids together for pics. Get them Sunday... the previews look really good! Then, home to get ready for the company holiday Christmas party.

Doin' laundry (yay - no more laundromat), trying to squeeze my chubby little butt into my awesome party dress, hair is perfect. Date is late. Of course. Rushing in at the last minute... but overall it was cool. Little dancing. Some card playing. Won a door prize (awesome Michigan mug!) and then the best part - Bonuses!!!

Out the door from there, off to change clothes and hit the local club to listen to the awesome sounds of my friend Soul Pumpkin (Or Pumpky Wumpky as I call him) rippin' across the bass like you wouldn't believe... Took the oldest girl, her bf, his friend and gf and they loved them! They played all the old cool songs (circa 70's/80's) and they were fab! Smoot Mahooty. Seriously. Check them out.

Home to sleep... finally!!! But am I done? Hell no, not yet. Must clean up the mess from the kids - son is now back at home *sniff*. Shower up, meet Pumpky for lunch at Kewpee's - best burgers ever - and back to work at the restaurant. Good night though; made my quota for the weekend... which is good since I'm now laid off on Saturdays and only work Sundays there. *sigh* 2 months til busy season again...

Anyhow... it's been crazy, it's been busy, it's been wonderful. I had such a great weekend with the kids... now I'm off to fix the float in the toilet(don't ask), put plastic up on the windows, and bake my supper.

Hope you all had a wonderful holiday/weekend as well... One day I'll catch up on all my homework (had to get an extension) and I'll be back...

*hugs*
miss b

Guess whose youngest daughter was "cordially invited" today to be a member of the National Honor Society???

Uh-huh, that's right. *snap*

*grin*

I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO proud of her. Great job, Pickle!

Did I mention she's a Junior maintaining a career (from K on up) 4.0, a 103% in Anatomy and a 99 in Trigonometry? AND works, AND is a member of Band (plays 3 different instruments) AND Show Choir (and sings like an angel)? No? Well, let me tell ya...

*proud mom moment*

~*~ AND ~*~

I get a really cool "Proud Parent of a National Honor Student" sticker for the Jeep.
Oh yea. Life is good.

*glow*

Lessons Learned

5am - *cell phone rings*

"hello?"
"mommy?"
"yea?"
"help me."
"what's wrong?"
*incoherent bawling and non-sensical screaming*
"junior, i can't understand you... stop."
*more crying and indistinguishable words*
"listen to me. i need you to stop, breathe, and talk so I can understand what you're saying. are you ok?"
"no"
"were you in an accident?"
"no"
"where are you?"
"i'm walking"
"where?"
"I don't know."
"where's your car?"
"i don't know."
"i need you to look around and tell me what's around you."

This is to what I woke up this morning. These are not the kinds of phone calls I like this early in the morning. Being woke up from a dead sleep to the sound of your child shrieking and upset is a hell of a way to start the day.

Fortunately, I am well-schooled in Junior-psychobabble. She tends to freak out when she gets really scared or really mad. Unfortunately, I'm the one she calls to freak out on.

I finally got her to tell me where she was and what happened. She was partying with friends, and during the course of the night, she was robbed. She had just got paid, and the bank was closed, so she had several hundred dollars in her purse. She put it in her friend's aunt's car trunk where she thought it would be safe. The aunt took some of the others home, and sometime during her several-stop rounds, someone took the keys, got into the trunk and stole her money. She wasn't the only one robbed; another woman (the grandmother) lost a couple hundred, and some cell phones were taken.

So I pick her up. She's walking down the street in jeans, a tank top, and flippy shoes. No jacket; it's fairly chilly. She was a drunken mess. I get her into the jeep and she loses it again. Finally, I understand what's happened. Oh she's really something when she's upset. Add liquored up, and she's impossible.

I get her home, she's still crying and upset. This was the money she was going to give me for rent (yes she pays it) and her cell phone bill. She doesn't understand why people would do that to her; she wouldn't do that, has always worked for her money, and worked hard. And she's pretty much narrowed it down to the group of friends that she's been hanging out with for the last four years. So she's upset, and heart-broken at the same time. Along with that, the fellow she's been "going out" with walked out on her last night because she was upset and told her he couldn't deal with her like that. He called her later and started lecturing her on carrying money around and some other stuff I couldn't make out. I only heard the tone of voice in which he was speaking to her; I was not impressed.

I got her home and calmed down. She sat on the couch with me for awhile, like she was three again. We napped for awhile.

We got up later and went to find her car, go to the store and do some stuff around the house. She was feeling pretty bad yet, and was still upset. We talked; I tried to not lecture. She made some decisions and learned some pretty tough lessons today.

She knows her "friends" are not. They are "gangsta" wannabe hoodrats who do nothing but party and waste time. She is done with them. As she says, why should she hang with people who would be so shady to her?

She wants to not be in this town anymore. She finds nothing but trouble here, and she knows it.

She has to stop drinking. She keeps putting herself in places she doesn't need to be and is lucky she's not been hurt. She knows she has a problem. We've had this battle before. She gets it from her father.

She understands that yes, it was a fair bit of money, but she was fortunate. They didn't take her id, ss card, keys, or car. I finally got her to see that they could have messed with her credit, used the keys to break into our home, or stolen her car. They did it without harming her. She could have been raped, or killed.

Tonight she's better; this afternoon she was walking around like she was old and demented, with much regression to younger years and acting helpless. I tried to let her know that yes, she was a victim of a crime, but she does not need to remain a victim. I know it's hard; it fucks with your head.

I gave her money to fill up her car so she can get back and forth to work and school this week 'til she gets paid again. I bought her lunch stuff for this week, and we got some food for the house. She usually pays for her own; she's actually quite responsible about some things. It took about everything I made at the bar this weekend, but we didn't have much here but peanut butter and macaroni.

Before I left for work this afternoon, she gave me a hug and told me she was glad I heard the phone and answered it this morning. I said, "Who's your mom?" She said, "You are." "Who loves ya?" "You do." "Just remember that."

I hate the fact that this will begin her transition to grown-up life, and the realization that the world is not good, kind, and fair. She will lose that innocence and trust. *sigh*

So this week, we'll look at some other place to be and move on with life. Just like we always do.

Happy Birthday Daddy...

September 16, 1944. This is the day that the greatest man on Earth was born. Today he is 63. But he is eternally 35 to me. This is when I remember him best. I was a young child, the world was perfect, and life was good.

He was a handsome man; a kind man; intelligent. Looking back, he is the bar to which I hold all men. I have many happy memories. He was the original Prince Charming in my life.

He brought to me a love of music -- all kinds. We'd listen to Jim Croce or Stevie Wonder, Dr Hook and the Eagles. He was the first man with whom I danced. To me he was soooo tall. He would stand me up on a dining room chair, and dance with me. I was the Princess of the house with him.

He brought to me the wonder of learning. He'd sit with me when I was four, and let me read to him. I remember he and my mother reading to each other. We watched National Geographic, Jacques Cousteau, and Nova. Of course, we watched Benny Hill, Wonder Woman, and The Bionic Man to. We were not given answers. We were asked questions, taught where to find the answers and expected to be able to find our way.

Some of my favorite times were late at night. He worked second shift then, and I would wake up in the middle of the night, knowing he'd be home soon. I'd sit at the top of the stairs and wait. He'd come in, talk to my mom, and they'd always cook something or bake cookies. Then he'd come to the foot of the stairs and find me and tell me to come down. We'd sit and watch scary movies (the GOOD kind - the classic black & white Dracula, Frankenstein, The Thing, The Mummy, The Werewolf) and it was great! That was back when they could make movies good without making them gory.

We did a lot of fun things together. We'd do puzzles, paint, go down to the old abandoned railroad tracks and target shoot. I'd sit for hours watching him reload shells for his rifles and handguns. We'd walk along the tracks and pick black raspberries to take to grandma's so she could make the bestest black raspberry pie in the world.

He worked in R&D for a company. He was always making something, better. Out of a metal barrel and steel posts, he made a barbecue grill (for charcoal) and powder coated it. We grilled out all the time. Chicken, fish, steaks, pork chops, burgers and dogs. That grill lasted for 15 years. I can't buy one that cooks as well today.

He was a quiet man. He never yelled. He didn't need to yell. When he told us to do or not do something, it was understood. I remember only a handful of spankings. We were spoiled. When we were spanked, it was because our dumb ass did something really frickin' stupid. He never spanked in anger. He always waited and sent us to our room for about 15-20 minutes. The waiting was almost as bad as the spanking. His hands were 3 feet long. Ok, maybe not that long, but it sure seemed like it. He'd always tell us, "This will hurt me more than it hurts you." I understand it now. His moments with us were filled with kindness and laughter, teasing and tickles. Kisses at bedtime and talks about our days.

He didn't have regular sleep habits. He'd stay up for awhile, then sleep for awhile. But he was always on time and at work every day. I kid you not, the man has missed 3 days of work in 36 years due to being ill. That's where I get my work ethic, I'm sure.

He taught respect, gave respect, and expected respect. He was knowledgeable on many different subjects, but man of few words. He is very much a realist, and doesn't mince words. If he says it, he means it. If he doesn't mean it, he won't say it. He doesn't believe in wasting time and energy on things going nowhere.

He is a beautiful man. He is my stepfather, but from the time I was only months old, he was Daddy. In a world where mixed families and horror stories abound about children and stepparents, I have to honestly say, I was a fortunate child. No one holds a candle to him. No one ever will. He's a shrewd and very accurate judge of character. Very few made it past him. He always called them right.

I'm proud to know him. I'm honored he calls me his little Princess. I hate the thought of him aging and the inevitable. Watching the gray appear in his hair, and the shake of Parkinson's reminds me of facts which I cannot control. I was not half the parent he was, and I'm sad because he was such a great father to me. He will always be my number one man.

So today, I'll go see him; take him some chocolate cake (his favorite) and hug him because he's there.

All my love, Daddy. Happy Birthday to you... I hope you have a million more.

*hugs*
your little princess