Tag Archives: dad

A time you feared for the safety of a loved one.

There was a prompt from Mama Kat this week that caught my attention.
Mama's Losin' It

5.) A time you feared for the safety of a loved one.

I’ve told this story before.  It’s from the scariest time in my life. New mother, beautiful newborn and a meth addict.  Somethings gotta go…..

There is nothing scarier than fearing that the drug addict you married is going to kill you and/or your child.  To me, there is nothing scarier or more dangerous than a meth addict in need of a fix.

converseChapter 7 in what I like to call “The book of meth”……..we’re nearing the end now, thank you all for coming with me as I tell my story….

Catch up from the begining here-

Or the entire Book of Meth here~

My first Christmas as momma was amazing. The PIT was healthy, happy and full of spunk. She had no idea I was miserable inside….

Mr meth was still in jail thru new years. I still hadn’t gone to see him, still refused to speak to him…all communication went thru his family. Finally in January I went to see him..I simply went to make myself clear…I was done. I told him that I hated him, that my daughters first Christmas was amazing no thanks to his worthless ass…told him that when he got out he was not coming to my home…told him it was over, I wanted out. I told him I wanted a divorce. I sat there and felt nothing as he bawled his eyes out and begged me to give him “just one more try”…I felt nothing. I wanted him to hurt. He crushed me…I wanted him to feel the pain that I felt when I realized “we” were over because of his choices.

I said “make a choice fucker! Marriage or meth?!?”

He made his choice and that is why we are here, discussing divorce, behind glass in a fuckin jail…on our fuckin sham of a wedding anniversary. Every little girls dream I know.

I left the jail still emotionless, quiet…I felt numb. Seriously?! Is this really my life right now?! What the shit?! What the fuck is wrong with me? I thought to myself. What kind of loser has a husband behind bars? What kind of loser has a husband who brings meth to a family reunion and drops it? Apparently me! Fuck!!!


111I went to pick up the PIT, took her home and cuddled and rocked her to sleep. I held her all night that night. Didn’t sleep for even a moment..I sat in that stupid gray rocking chair rocking all night…crying…bawling. I looked at my precious baby and I felt like such a failure….I wanted to give her the best and I knew that there’s no way I could. Failure….that haunts me everyday. I still feel like a failure because she doesn’t have a dad like I meant for her to have. I wonder if I always will…and as tears fill my eyes right now…I’m pretty sure I will.

Mr meth was released from jail sometime in January or February…he didn’t bother us at first. He went to his aunts and stayed with them for a while and seemed to make an effort. Soon however..the meth the friends the same old same old sucked him right back in. He started breaking into the house again and told me he would rather kill me than lose me. Ummmm, wouldn’t he have lost me either way? Hello…dead?! Nut job!!

Since the holidays my family had known that my marriage was over. Not feeling the need to hide my situation anymore I went to my dad for help. He spent a day with me helping get a restraining order and change the locks on the doors yet again. I met with a realtor to put my house, that I loved but could not afford on just my income, on the market. One more thing I was going to lose because of mr meths choices. I loved that house…my grandfather gave me my inheratance to use as a down payment on this house…I moved into this house literally one week before my grandfather died. He was to weak to even come into my house the day I moved in…but he drove to town with gramma and waited in the car in my driveway and told me that he was proud of me and that my house was beautiful. I squeezed my poppa thru the car window that day…poppa and I were both beaming. Now here I was bawling as I signed the papers to put the house up for sale. I still feel like I let poppa down…I lost the house he helped me get….

Mr meth was getting more and more nuts by the day and the restraining order didn’t stop him most days. One sunny afternoon I went out to my garage…a place I rarely went…I’m a girl…I have no business in a garage unless it’s a garage sale:) that afternoon I went out there looking for who knows what..I’m not even sure why I went out there. I went to open the door and almost broke my face…apparently the door was locked. Odd…I didn’t even know this locked! I knew I didn’t have a key because I knew this lock had not been on my door before, so being the naturally psycho bitch that I am, I kicked the door open…I must have been really pissed because I’m still kinda suprised I kicked it open in one swift kick!  There, in my garage was a Lexus, a Lexus that I knew was not mine since I had just begged the car dealer to buy my own Civic back from me because I couldnt afford it.  I actually knew who the Lexus belonged to…I was a fellow drug lord friend of Mr Meths car.  The question was. why the fuck is the drug lords car in my garage? How long has it been here? What the hell?! I really need to pay attention!

The PIT was napping when I made this discovery so I took that as an opportunity to pick a fight with the drug lord.

First, I went down to the basement, also a place I rarely went, mostly out of fear of finding drugs…..but that day I went. I went into the room that I later found out my husband was smoking meth in, a room I hadnt been in for a very long time. There on the shelf was the bottle of ZipStrip paint thinner I was after……..I poured the bottle of ZipStrip paint thinner into a super soaker that was in my basement for some unknown reason….I figured it was a sign from God to use it in my mission.

I called the drug lord who had his Lexus in my garage and asked him what the hell was going on. He told me that Mr Meth and him had gotten in a bit to deep with the latino drug lords and were now on their shit list, so naturally, they decided to hide the Lexus in my garage.  Terrific. Using my garage to hide your car from latino drug lords that you have pissed off. How thoughtful. Especially since I had made myself more than clear that I wanted NO part of any of this nonsense….none.  At least I had thought I made myself clear…..apparently not….so I told the owner of the Lexus that I was on my way out to the garage with my super soaker full of ZipStrip paint thinner and I was going to write “CRACKHEAD” on the hood of his beloved Lexus.

Within moments he was at my garage ready to relocate his car….but not before I could scream every possible obsinity at him and called him every bad name a person could call an asian….all of my neighbors were outside at his point…..curious as to what the crazy lil white girl was screaming about.  They soon found out…..I made it clear that this person as well as my soon to be ex husband were worthless drug addicts and I had no part nor did I want any part of the horse shit they were into. In fact, I yelled to all my neighbors…..”if you see either of these fuckers anywhere near my house PLEASE call the cops….  they are most likely wanted for some crime somewhere”.  After this chaos I created in my own front yard had gotten way out of hand the police did arrive but my worthless turd of a husband and his drug lord associate had already fled.  However, at least now, EVERYONE knew that I personally wanted no part of his illegal activity and the neighbors soon took the action to call the police whenever Mr Meth slithered back my direction.  I also knew, that I had brought this chaos into their quiet little neighborhood.  I knew I had to move…..I was always gonna be the crazy white chick screaming at the asian drug lords with the cops at her house weekly.  Yuck…..nightmare neighbor!  Nightmare reality is what I was living….

9-11…a day of more than mixed emotions

It was a glorious fall morning in Minnesota.  The bluest most untouched sky…sun shining bright…leaves starting to change that wicked red and orange of autumn.

Autumn

I remember getting into my car that morning and thinking “it’s to fuckin early for this. Damnit that sun is bright! I feel a vomit coming on. Shit” and then running back onto my house to blow chunks yet again.  You see, that glorious morning I was heading to the doctor (far too early. Anything before noon in my pre-momma days was murder.) to confirm what that little pee stick said…that I was indeed knockered…which explained the constant puking. (I puked cheerios. Who the hell can’t handle cheerios?!)

*side note: try being a nurses aide at a hospital, wiping old folks asses and having to say “oop one sec Margaret…I’m gonna barf…just stay right there k?” not cool. I barfed all the damn time!

Once the barf session was over I headed out to the car…cranked up a CD and headed off to the doctor. I remember sitting in the waiting room listening to elevator music thinking “I’m gonna barf. I’m never going to stop barfing. Omg 9 months of barfing?! What have I done?!” just then a nurse called me back. I sat in the exam room nervous, terrifed, naked, freezing and still barfing waiting for my OB to come in. My OB was a wonderful woman who calmed my fears, and told me that I wasn’t going to barf forever and I could have an epidural for delivery. (What? It’s scarey to think about the pain of pushing a person outta your vagina! Forget it…call anestesia) and answered all of my ridiculous “I’m to scared to be a mom” questions and “what ifs”.  Then it was onto the physical exam. Which, for the record is terrible. Get the hell away from my cervix! But then my whining turned to panic.  My panic grew with every move the doctor made with the stethascope across my belly. “I’m not hearing a heartbeat.” she said.  I laid there silently but the look on my face must have said “OH FUCK” loud and clear because she reached out her hand, helped me sit up and said “let’s not panic. Let’s get you in for an ultra sound” Ok..an ultrasound didn’t sound so bad. I could handle that.  She was able to get me in for an ultra sound at 1:15 that day and asked me to return right afterwards and we’d discuss the findings.

(discuss the findings? You mean we’ll discuss if I have a viable fetus or not? If I’m going to have a baby or if I’m going to have a D & C? Super. Great. I’ll be here)

I left her office, got in my car and bawled until I barfed..yet again. I was absolutely terrified and it was only 11:30. What the hell was I going to do until one?!? Fuckin worry?!? Yup, and fill my bladder per doctors orders. I went to hardees for the hot ham & cheese sandwich, curly fries and large coke I was craving and headed home to catch my beloved soaps.

I remember sitting there, on my sofa, chewing on some fries, the dog sitting next to me hoping I’d drop a fry and I remember the feeling in my gut that day as I realized that All my Children wouldn’t be coming on.

I watched in shock, and horrid disbelief as I watched the reports of the first plane hitting the tower…I shook with fear as I watched the second plane hit.

towers

My fear was accomanied by anger as I watched the third plane hit the pentagon.

Pentagon

I bawled as I watched the fourth plane in that Pennsylvania field.

remember

So many things raced through my mind…so many emotions poured out of me as I watched those people in those buildings leap to their death…..

9-11_Falling_Man

as the fire fighters kept going back into those burning buildings…

firefighters-at-9-11

as the black smoke rolled out of the pentagon. ..The streets of new York were filled with panic and covered in ash….

_Ground_Zero_02

the pentagon had a plane IN it…passangers took down that last plane..those passangers that called their loved ones from the plane and said their goodbyes and I love you’s knowing THAT would be the last time they would ever be able to.

Tom Burnett (From Minnesota) called his wife, Deena, and reportedly told her, “We’re all going to die, but three of us are going to do something” and added: “I love you, honey” before the call ended.

They did that and then they kicked some terrorist ass.  I get chills now as I think about it…the courage that had to have conquered the fear long enough to say goodbye to your wife, hang up and say “let’s roll” united with strangers with the same courage to fight back.

Let's_Roll
I headed back to the clinic for my ultra sound shaken by what I had seen (a bit suprised it took me till noon to figure out the country was being attacked) and now back to full force worry mode: heartbeat or no heartbeat.  The waiting room at the ultra sound clinic had CNN on..playing the footage of the planes flying into the twin towers and the footage of the still burning still somewhat standing buildings.  I cried as I watched the terror in the peoples eyes as they ran for their lives down that new York street with a massive cloud of ash pumeling after them.

9-11_panic

The tech called my name…”oh shit..please please please let there be a heatbreat” the tech was very nice and could sense I was scared shitless. She put that cold gooy stuff on my belly and got the wand ready and….I barfed.  Then we proceeded…there it was…a tiny little blob with a very much so beating heart.I’ll never forget the joy i felt at that moment, staring at this little blinking heart….it was beautiful…it was at that moment that I felt it…I felt…mom. I felt so much love yet so much fear as I thought about the events unfolding before my eyes..before the eyes of every person in this country.  What kind of world am I bringing a life into? What’s going to happen now? Will we even be around by the time this child is born?  I left the ultra sound clinic and went back to my OB where we discussed my due date (yes!!!!)  I left her office with my very first picture of my baby…dated 9.11.01.

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A day I’ll never forget for joyful and painful emotions. That afternoon I reported for duty at the hospital where I worked. I remember the somber feeling…the quietness of the halls…the red puffy eyes of the nurses who had watched the days attacks just as I had.  Not much was spoken, with words, the looks in the eyes of my fellow Americans said it all.  We were all scared, worried, sad, sick with the idea of the number of lives lost, we were all shaken…but never broken. The census on first floor was low so I was able to join some of the nurses who were walking up to a memorial type service at city hall.  We walked together quietly…we stood together and cried with many others who had gathered at the service.  We stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers and held hands as fellow Americans as we prayed together….

Firemans_Flag_lg

Tell me….where were you?

Revisiting the “dad” issue

 
I wonder......
I wonder……

     

The dad issue is usually a dead issue unless the PIT is incredibly over tired and pissed at me or just having an emotional day. Her birthday is nearing and that always pulls at the heartstrings of both of us.  She wants a “mom & dad” just as bad as I want to be able to give her that but right now….we’re just not there yet.  Someday there will be someone to fill the void that was left in both of our lives but until then….I have keep my cool and my wicked tongue….bad mouthing the donor would be teaching the PIT the wrong lesson…..I keep the slander of my ex here…..for all of you to enjoy lmao but srsly…its in the kids best intrest that I keep on a blogging!       

 
I made a choice a long time ago to not bad mouth my ex husband in front of the PIT.  This choice has left me speachless in regards to the baby daddy.  I really dont have anything nice to say about him anymore.  It takes all of my strength to muster up a memory when the PIT  asks me something related to life before I was mommy.  Dont get me wrong….I have memories of my ex, not all were bad but trying to talk about them now makes me throw up in my mouth a lil bit. (I still cant say his name without filling with rage) I bite my tongue everytime she cries for him or thinks she wants him or throws a fit cause she “misses” him.   I roll my eyes & mumble under my breath “if you only knew girly if you only knew”……  I’ve had to try and explain the dad issue without telling her that he’s a worthless meth addicted gang banger somewhere in Cali. Is there a nice way to tell her the truth? I don’t think so, at least not at the age of 7. I’ve been able to get by with “your dad is doing his own thing and we’re doing ours”. When she asks if she will ever see him I just reply “anything is possible” which technically isn’t a lie. I do know that chances are pretty good she will never meet him, it is best that way. Meth addicts have no business being parents and I terminated his parental rights after he tried to kill me more than once.  Do I like the fact that Im a single parent? Somedays I do somedays I dont… Is this what I had in mind? Um no but it is what it is and Im going to do my best to make it without losing my mind (any further). Do I want the PIT to have a dad? Of course I do…..but he’s got to EARN us both.     

shhhhh

shhhhh

  

Does not exactly telling the whole story make me a liar?    

Does it make me a bad mother?Guess it all depends who you ask.  I received a lovely email from someone who feels that I am indeed the worst mother on the planet and how dare I RIP my childs father away from her.  Apparently, someone missed a post or two…..I didn’t rip shit. I ran. Theres a difference. And if what I’m doing, raising a respectful, smart, caring, kind individual is wrong and makes me a bad mother then good.  The intriguing little creature is turning out quite nicely thanks to my bad solo parenting skills.  As far as change…I dont care.  Look, you try to kill your wife in a methbinge rage then you don’t get to be around children. Not even if you donated your DNA. Lesson to be learned here: Dont try to kill baby mama.

She misses her what?

As I said before…terminating Mr Meths parental rights is one choice I’ve always been certain was right.  However, being right doesn’t mean there isn’t a little heartbreak here & there…….

“Momma?” she said in a quiet tone.

I turned to look at her and she had tears in her eyes…she started to bawl

“I really miss my daddy” she sobbed.  “I haven’t seen him since I was a baby and I think about him a lot” she says “I just really miss my daddy”

My heart breaks every time we do this.

6heart

I scooped her up in my arms and squeezed her tightly as she continued to cry.  As always, I started to tear up, it kills me to see her so sad and upset.  It pisses me off so fucking much to watch this little girl cry her eyes out over that worthless fuck.

I can feel it creeping back in…the anger, the hate, the pure disgust I have for that man.  How dare you break her fucking heart like this! For what fucko?! Meth!?! “ I hope you choke on the next hit you take bitch” I think to myself “I fucking hate you”.  My gut aches as I fill with anger….my heart breaks as my child cries in my arms, as her tears run down my chest one tiny shattered piece of my heart runs down with it.

tears fall

She looks up at me with teary eyes and asks “Don’t you miss daddy?”

UUMMMMMM…….FUCK!

Do I miss the man that I divorced?  The man who cheated on me in MY house while I was giving birth, the motherfucker who threatened me and tormented me with his insane ways once he discovered meth, the man who warned me to sleep with one eye open, the man that I was so terrified of that I literally slept with you next to me every night so I was sure he wasn’t going to take you from me? The man that looked at me, cold and empty, and asked “how do I know you’re not fucking wired?!”  No…..I don’t miss him one fucking bit. In fact the thought of him makes me want to vomit….the thought of him fills me with so much rage I honestly think I could rip his face off if given the opportunity.  How the hell could I miss THAT?!  I also don’t miss the person that I was when I was “married” to him.  Scared, hurt, bitter (more bitter than I currently am), depressed, hating myself…..I don’t miss any of that.  I wish I could erase all of those memories that haunt me….just wipe em out.  If I didn’t remember it so well, if I didn’t still feel a bit scared, if I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder…..maybe this “missing daddy” thing wouldn’t be as hard.

Yeah right….I don’t think anything could make this kinda thing any easier.

Although, thanks to a very wise and caring man, I was reminded of one simple fact that did indeed help.  I may know who he was, who he became, the things (and whores) he did…..the PIT doesn’t.  She doesn’t actually miss Mr Meth because she never knew him…..she just knows that theres a void in her life where her daddy should be….

I can be the most awesomest momma ever in the world

rockstar000

and its not going to fill that “daddy” void.

I have to accept that theres nothing I can do about that.

Missing is a natural emotion and having a dad is a natural thing so of course shes going to miss having a dad.  I cant fix that….mostly because its not broken.  Its natural….part of life….a test of my strength.

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I may hate Mr Meth but the PIT has no idea that I do.  I intend to keep it that way.

I wont spew my hatred for that assclown on my child….thats what you’re here for.

Thank you~

There’s more to being a dad than DNA

Mhmm, this post is Chapter 9 in the Book of Meth. A repeat I know. However, I like this one….to this day I KNOW I made the right choice going to court that day.

A recent post from the lovelys over at Singlemommyhood (yeah thats right-we have our own hood) reminded me that is more to being a dad than DNA….it feels good to have legal documentation of that now.

 

 

Get rid of him…..

Turns out that terminating parental rights is not an easy feat. The courts WANT parents to be involved and responsible for their children. Duh. Who doesn’t want that? What happens when one of the parents turns into a flaming douchebag by becoming a psycho meth addicted loser? Then what judge? You want me to sit here and hope and pray with all of my being that he never shows up ever again? Ah yeah fucking right. I refuse to accept that. If you don’t WANT your child, well then, fuck you. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out homie. And a meth addict who is notorious for his over the top “I’m gonna getcha” shit?!?! Nope. Not gonna happen.
When mr meth called me that night and begged me to terminate his rights….I was like a kid on Christmas morning! I was living in the city not the same place I got the divorce so first I tried to locate a local lawyer.

First lawyer was a prick and told me that I should be ashamed of myself for trying to get rid of him instead of helping him. I in return was an equal prick and told him that I was already plenty ashamed of myself but not for this…I went on to tell this attorney, who I didn’t know, nor did I need to spill my guts too, that I didn’t owe that son of a bitch anything and if I really wanted to get rid of him I’d hire a fucking hitman and not an attorney! All I was trying to do was protect my daughter from a meth addicted gang banger with a violent fuckin history! Is that really so much to ask?! I told the attorney that HE should be ashamed of himself for judging people so quickly, without knowing the whole story.  “A quick tognue will slit your own throat if you’re not careful” I told him before hanging up to sob. 

I went to plan B……the wonderful attorney who helped me throught the divorce.  Problem was….she was in a different county and we werent sure which county I would have to proceed in.  Since my ex husband had a long history of trouble with the law in the county where I was divorced we wanted to proceed there….I had already been before this judge for the divorce and my ex was before the same judge to be sentanced for drugs….the judge knew the story so I thought maybe that would help my case.  Nope, I thought wrong.  My case wasnt going to be easy but I had already come this far so there was no way in hell I was stopping until his name was OFF her birth certificate.  I didnt know what kinda trouble he was in and I didnt want to….I just wanted him GONE. 

My lawyer and I worked for three months to prepare the case.  How hard could it be to build a case against a gangbanger really?!

First, mr meth had “abandoned”  the PIT in the courts eyes.  He had been gone out of the PIT’s life since she was 15 months old and at this time she was nearing her 3rd birthday.  Mr Meth had made no contact (except for threats on my life) with the PIT. He left town that day after getting the divorce papers and never saw her again. No letters, cards, calls…..nada.

Second, Mr Meth was behind in child support payments to the tune of $20,000 and had never made a payment ever, nor was there any hope of him getting a job given his serious lack of motivation and current drug abuse.  I was busting my ass to survive on my own, without child support and without any sort of public assistance, without anything. Shit I even paid for the kids overpriced health insurance on my own and lived on microwave popcorn! 

Third, Mr meth requested this termination because of his gang involvement.  He had a long history of trouble with the law so proving he was a loser wasnt to hard.  I had the court papers of his last violent arrest, the restraining order from my divorce (which was valid for 8 years…thank you) and his own admission of gang and drug involvment. 

It was clear Mr Meth was not father material. This should have been easy.  Instead, I had to meet with the social service people so they could see how I interacted with the PIT and to see that she was well taken care of. Ummm im sorry but what the fuck?! Make him prove something!! I birthed the child and I have been caring for her MYSELF since day one! My lawyer advised me to shut my mouth and jump through the hoops the courts were going to put me through. I KILLS me to shut my mouth by the way. But I did. I jumped through every stupid hoop and met with every social workers they sent to me and I smiled through every interview, the whole time I really just wanted to tell them that this “system” was a bogus fucking mess. 

Finally, my day came and I was heading to court to present my case.  I threw up in the lawyers office before we left. I was just a lil bit nervous apparently!  My mom and my dad both came to the court with me….I was so glad that they did.  As I cried my eyes out on the stand as I relived the nightmare that Mr Meth had made my life and begged the judge to sign the order….I felt stronger with my parents there. (Thank you both)  As I sat on the stand all teary eyed, the judge looked at me and said “How do you know he isnt just trying to get out of child support?” 

“I dont care. I dont care about the child support…Ive never recieved any so how could I miss it?! I dont recieve any assistance from tax payers at all nor do I intend to. I dont see what the court cares about the stupid child support order!” I yelled. I was so frustrated…..so angry…..WHY was this not an open and shut case?!?! ”Im not doing this out of spite or to get back at him or anything like that your honor. I AM SCARED of this man. I am terrified that he is going to take my child from me again….like he did that day when I almost ripped his face right off. Together we are monsters who will fight to the death. I just want this nightmare to stop. I want to be mommy. I have a gorgeous little girl who NEEDS and deserves her mother….a mother who is not living in fear.  Please your honor,” i said as I bawled…..”Please help me

The judge handed me a tissue, leaned back in his chair…..he told me that he hoped I had learned a lesson about running with the “wrong crowd” and that in the future I should pick my baby daddys a bit better.

Ok…that kick in the teeth is duely noted sir.  Thank you for pointing out the obvious.  

Finally he signed the order terminating Mr Meths parental rights, changed the PITs name and my last name….ordered a new birth certificate and sent me on my way. 

I was exhausted but giddy! Had I really just accomplished that?! Holy SHIT! WoooHOOOO!! That was the best feeling in the world……I fought my ass off for my girl and I WON. The nightmare that I had been living finally came to an end in 2005. The PIT and I were free of Mr Meth!!

*Currently maintain NO contact with Mr Meth what so ever. I attempted to make nice with his family when the PIT was wondering why she looked like she should speak spanish but it didnt last long. We’re good with why she looks like she would speak spanish. His family and I didnt see eye to eye on alot of things and I am not the kinda girl to bend for someone if I just dont want
to. Mr Meth is still cracked out in Cali last I knew….has a new baby now…super…glad your winky still works and that youre still irresponsible enough to reproduce….(I revoked my own rights to reproduce after the book of meth and had my tubes tied. I made a mess the first time around..no need to repeat!) Anywhooo—-the PIT and I are together, we’re happy, healthy and ready to take on the world!!

Sometimes being a single mom blows

It would be a complete and total horse shit lie if I were to tell you that being a single momma rocks all the time.

 Sure I don’t have to share my child with anyone, I parent my own way without any interference, I know that every holiday she will be with me and at the end of everyday she kisses me goodnight.

 Yes being a mom rocks….always.

But sometimes being a single mom blows goats.

You’re always going to attend family night at her school alone…other parents are always gonna look at you and wonder where “the dad” is. You’re going to be the one she’s pissed off at after getting shots at her annual checkup.

When you’re a single mom you can often find yourself asking “well now wtf am I supposed to do?!”

EE

for example…say you’re a single momma to a beatiful little baby..an infant who refuses to nap.ever. and you really need to shower before your next shift at the hospital because you’re starting to stink…sooooo wtf do I do with this kid while I shower? Hope she’s alright while I take the worlds fastest shower? Bathe with baby wipes? Ahhhh how do ppl do this?!?

 Well, ppl like me strap the infant in her car seat or her bouncy chair and pull her in the bathroom with me where I can see her if she trys anything amazing…or if my “husband” comes to steal her. But then after a short time, she out grows the bouncy chair and hates her car seat. Now what? She’s mobile now! Crawling all over rhe place, opening every cupboard and drawer she finds.

 Fuck. I’m never going to shower ever again.322

 I’m going to seriously stank… Or….i’ll shower at snack time. Strap her in the high chair, pull the high chair in the bathroom with me and crack open a jar of her favorite snacks…green beans and those nasty little gerber beef sticks. (those this are mcfuckinraunch btw. The PIT loved em but everytime I popped a jar open the dogs literally went bonkers. At one point I thought the lil 5 pound beast I called sir Winston duke, my pomapoo puppy, was going to break down the bathroom door to get to the gawdamn high chair in hopes the PIT would notice him..as she always did…and toss him a chunk or two of those disgusting beef sticks.)

I’m may never get to shower alone again but at least I can shower! (appreciate showers..they shouldn’t be taken for granted)

Being a single parents of a sick PIT blows too.

 When she’s sick and we’re out of motrin I have to drag her sick little butt to the store with me. That sucks for both of us…she just wants to rest but I can’t be in two places at once…she’s always gonna be drug along for the ride..even when she feels like ass. Of course theres always the possibility that shes going to blow chunks before you even get out of your garage which makes getting to the store extra interesting. Not to mention that kids are incredibly extra whiney when they’re sick.

Single parents have no where to run.

4

 That sick whiney kid coughing all over the place with a snotty nose is going to be stuck to your ass like a clingy little monster until she feels better.

(Yay…..fuck…mommas tired and you’re whiney voice is making me crazy. Like nails on a blackboard girlie…shhhhhhhhhhhh!)

When you’re sick and your kid isn’t it’s equally frustrating. The kid is not gonna leave you alone.ever.

They need you…even when you’re sick..you’re all they’ve got.

You are their HERO

There are ups and downs in every aspect of life…single parenting is not above the roller coaster ride that is life.

Ignorance….

 

 Now Ive heard alot of ignorant things in my lifetime and Ive said some pretty fucktastic shit along the way myself…but I was still floored by the ignorance that I overheard in a small town cafe.

ignorance

In this day & age…after all this country has been through, seen, lived and learned from…. there are still people this ignorant among us..raising children….teaching them to hate based on color.  I can hear this conversation over & over again in my mind and it takes alot of fucking effort not to vomit…or throw something in a massive fit of “are you fucking kidding me??!?!??!” kinda madness…

 fucktards

 

“I don’t know what it is about that mix” he said

“What mix? What are you talking about?” she asked

“That mix…asian & white.  They make the most stunningly beautiful babies”  he said

“Oh. That mix”  She said in a soft voice…her eyes following the PIT as she pranced across the room

She & her husband were my parents age, their daughter a few years younger than me.  They both watched the PIT as she dashed back & forth, ran, jumped, played and giggled with the other kids.  They watched her for hours…they watched the PIT & I interact and they sat there with this look of “hmmmm…..I wonder…” on their faces. 

pregnantbelly1

Mister waved me over to the table where his wife and another couple were sitting.  I joined them. 

“Hey kiddo! I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you? Still in the city?” he asked

“Yup still in the city with the little one…kickin ass & taking names as usual” I replied

“How old is your little one now?” He inquired as his eyes quickly scanned the room looking for her…

“Shes seven” I replied. “Goes by quick”

“yes it sure does” the wife chimed in

“So I assume the baby daddy is out of the picture all together” the husband asked me

{My stomach turned as the words “baby daddy” came outta this mans mouth dripping with judgement.  Who the fuck did he think he was?! I didn’t get knocked up in high school by some fuckin punk underneath the bleachers for fucks sake.  I got knocked up by the fuckin punk I invested 7 years of my life with. I married, divorced and terminated his rights thus making him not only my ex husband but a fuckin DNA donor.  Ya see theres a difference in a baby daddy and a DNA donor.  Look it up.  Don’t insult me looking down your nose at me bitch. Get off your high horse and smell the shit that is reality.  I may not have gotten knocked up by some random punk….but someones daughter sure did….and it was clear that he was still pissed by that.}

“Shortly after my divorce, I terminated my ex husbands parental rights.” I replied calmly, trying to keep from bitch slapping this man…”I figured if I was gonna do it all by myself we might as well make it legal.  Parenting isn’t a come & go kinda thing if you ask me.” I said “all or nothing. My ex-husband got nothing”

“He doesn’t help in any way?!” He screeched

I chuckled and said “Nope. Nothing.  Im officially a single parent. Theres nothing to be expected from him.”

And then it happened. 

“Ya know, years ago, in the days of lynchings & shoot em up bang bangs this kinda thing wouldn’t be a problem.” He said

“What kind of problem would that be?” I inquired as I braced myself to try and NOT rip his face off when he replied “mixing”

Ah…ok good, here I was afraid it was going to be something ignorant.

 holy fucking shit balls this was beyond anything I could have imagined. 

By “this kinda thing” you mean MY CHILD?!

363

Yeah take a good look at her…is this the “problem”? “that kinda thing”?! 

This wonderful little monster happens to be the greatest “thing” that could have to me…how fucking dare you….I thought to myself.

Are you fucking kidding me?! How far south did I fucking go?!

Did I go back in time? Is Marty McFly here?!

mcfly1

{BREATHE…1-2-3-BREATHE…1-2-3…I will not assault him I will not assault him…} 

“Do you know what that son of a bitch did right after he was thru with my daughter?” he said. “He went right back out and got some other girl in trouble and doesn’t take care of that one either” 

{He got some girl in trouble? Ummmm hey 1950…guess what…in the early days of the new millenium…your daughter put out. A lot.  So technically in all fairness sir, you’re daughter was just as much a part of “getting in trouble” as the dude was.}

My fists were clenched so tight I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms.  Is this really happening right now?  And why am I not allowed to smack people when they clearly deserve it?!?!?  You see …..this mans daughter and a family member of Mr Meth’s reproduced & someone *AHEM* was not pleased.

“Actually” I snapped “After the ordeal that he went through with your daughter he did in fact get another girl knockered..no doubt about that…in fact, when I visit the family the child is there.  His son LIVES with him…his son is being raised by him & his family, cared for, loved, looked after and provided for every fucking day.  The child speaks better Lao than English because the primary care is given by his Lao father.  The same way that what would have been your granddaughter sir, would have been loved and cared for if you hadn’t insisted that she be given to a complete stranger simply because she was “mixed”.  Riddle me this….if a white boy from the farm had gotten your daughter knocked up would you still have forced them into adoption?” I replied. “Would you still be looking at my daughter wondering if that’s what your granddaughter would have looked like, been about the same age, do you look at me with my daughter and see the love that I have for her? The strength I draw from her? Do you see my eyes full of love when I look at my daughter and wonder if you’ve ripped that kind of love away from your daughter?” I asked “My ex-husband was a lot of things, none of which I was amused by in the end, but regardless…..he was a fuck because he was a meth addict.  Not because he was asian.” I said with teeth clenched.  “Like it or not old man it takes two to tango.  You’re daughter….tango’d with Asians”

If looks could kill, everyone at that table would have been dead. 

{Whatsa matter ol timer….dont like what I have to say? Shucks. How bout this….you keep your ignorance to yourself and Ill keep my colorful opinions out of your face}

I can only imagine the wonderful things that were said about me after I left the table. 

I could almost care too but I don’t. 

 

 Is this the kind of nonsense that is still going on in peoples minds?!

Well then to fucking bad…you deserve a good ass chewing. 

Racist

 

 

“Wanna Go for a Walk Momma”

 ”Wanna go for a walk momma?”  she asked me…

Luccis walking

“Sure” I replied, “wanna walk all the way across this entire town?” I asked with a raised eyebrow and a grin..

Her eyebrow perked “Yes!” she squealed “All the way across this entire town?!” she inquired.

“Mmmhmm. All.the.way.” I said

rushmore

She looked at me with those big brown eyes full of wonder and excitement as she held out her hand and said

“let’s rock momma” to which I replied “let’s roll baby”

{secret rockstar handshake}

and off we went…

 lucci on rr tracks

We were visiting my gramma who lives in the tiny town I grew up in until I was 12 years old.  A town full of memories…a childhood of memories came flooding into my mind as we headed out all the way across town.  I showed the PIT where my childhood friends lived…my old daycare…the ministers garden that we used to steal tomatos from to throw at houses…the grocery store that my friends & I climbed (who knows why) and launched apples at passing cars (that did not go over well)….the place where the “pumpkin house” used to be.  As kids we were certain the pumpkin house was haunted….we would sneak in every now and then on a random dare or pure boredom.  The PIT and I walked down the alley that lead from my dads shop over to my grandpas shop…the alley that my brother and I put 180000000 miles on as kids running back & forth between shops.

*side note: every mile my brother put on was put on via his beloved riding lawnmower. He would drive that stupid thing all over all the time for no reason. It was adorable!

As the PIT and I walked along her inquizative little mind kept begging for more stories. I showed her where the “pool hall” was when I was a kid. The pool hall where my parents and my friends parents often hung out after a long days work…the pool hall where we used to get those nasty candy cigarettes..the pool hall that was always blue with cigarette smoke, jukebox was always playing and our parents could often be heard laughing…

 Not far from what was once the pool hall still stands my grandfathers shop…I took the PIT there…..

lucci at gpas

Her curious mind peaked as she explored the outside of the old shop….

peak

she peaked in the old windows and inquired about all the machines inside…the cars the walls full of grandpas tools….

shop

She even managed a baby rockstar pose in grandpas honor…

lucc

Im pretty sure my grandpa would have been mighty proud of that lil rockstar in progress…..

 gpa

 This is my grandpa….the original Rockstar…..in front of his shop..

The day I discovered Kenny Chesney

holdEver heard a song that fits so well at a certain point or moment in your life that you are quite certain it was written about you and your “moments” or is it just me?

For example, the first time I had ever heard Kenny chesney was purely an accident. 

I’m a skynard and Zeppelin kinda girl…so I actually had no clue who Kenny chesney was. 

I was rockin the PIT one warm summer evening…I remember this so well it freaks me out….I was rockin the PIT to sleep in my lil gray rocking chair (the lil gray chair that squeaked and creaked with every rock back & forth back & forth…I bet my ass alone put 9900000 miles on that rocking chair!)  I was comfie in my squeaky chair and the PIT was all snuggled up on my chest in that “cozy-ball-of-baby” position so when I realized that the remote was ALL the way across the living room….I was less than pleased to be stuck watching GAC county music videos

**totally my brothers fault.  The rules were as follows: leave the soap opera channel on or leave the remote ON my lil squeaky chair.  I was often trapped under the snuggley cuddley ball of baby and really didn’t mind…I loved holding her on my chest and watching her sleep…yes I watched her sleep…big deal…sure beat the alternantive which was “watch meth eatcher hubbys soul”**

As I rocked the PIT that evening and thought about what a fuckin disaster I was in I remember looking at her sleeping on my chest and silently sobbing (ya learn to cry quietly as a momma or you wake the baby) thinking  “it wasn’t supposed to be like this” and I remember whispering to her as I continued to sob I never meant it to be like this..I’m so sorry baby..I’ll make things right for you”  

y

**I had no idea how to make things right but it turns out “knowing” how to make things right isnt all that important.

Knowing BELIEVING that you will make them better is**

I took a deep breath, kissed the sleeping PIT, wiped my teary eyes and went back to being pissed at my brother about the remote.

**Fine alright…even though i HATE having to repeat myself….I wasn’t really pissed at him, I was pissed at my life and I was taking it out on my brother and the remote. Quite frankly the soap channel should be blocked from women like me so watching GAC turned out to be a good thing! When did country dudes get frickin hott btw…while I was pregnant and watching soapnet?! Good grief…get me a cowboy hat, boots & daisy dukes and cowboy take me away!** {yup my blog is a glimpse inside my head and **these indicate a detour lol..my thoughts always get this far off track. Just enjoy the ride} 

 I started to pay attention to the TV….there was a video just starting….totally caught my attention.  I watched this video and listened to the song “The Good Stuff” and it may have been the hormones or it may have been reality setting in but at that moment I was sure of one thing….I DID NOT HAVE “THE GOOD STUFF” but I sure as shit wanted it. 

Later that night…still sitting in my squeaky chair I still thinking about “the good stuff” and how I didnt have that…what I had was a piece of shit meth head hubby who was banging 17 yr olds while I was giving birth…and yup….I was pissed.  Pissed enough to finally admit that it was over…I wanted a divorce and I wanted to start my own “good stuff” and I wanted it NOW. 

i 

Seven years later……Im a rockstar mom and a little girls everything…..that to me IS “the good stuff”

 

RockStarMomma30

Meet RockStarMomma30

aka mommy aka wifey aka Gina

gina

Words she lives by: “If you dont like honesty, go the fuck home”

RockStarMomma30 and I went to high school together…we’re from the same hood;)  Although we were never buddy buddy in high school I always got this intense “I’m not gonna take your shit or anyone elses” kinda vibe from her.

  I fucking loved it! 

To me, Gina has always been a rockstar but when she became a momma…her rockstar status went off the fucking charts. 

 She is a fiercly passionate mother, she loves her baby and she loves her husband. 

I envy the strength it took for Gina to give her heart to someone…one more time….and she trusted him not to break it. 

A leap that I am personally so scared shitless of I may never try.

The love, passion and commitment that Gina and her man have for one another, along with the love of that tiny lil rockstar baby….is my kinda fairytale. 

This fiercly passionate mother and tenacious soul is exactly what my RockStar Posse needs!  She has even decided to start her own adventures in blogging.  This momma has something to say and I cannot wait to hear her roar!  Ginas opinions and her strength to stand her ground for those opinions without being an obnoxious lil shit is admirable!  Im honored to call her my friend~

 Welcome aboard RockStarMomma30…..lets rock~