Tag Archives: divorce

A long drive

THIS just in…

I’m adding this kick ass video from Eminem because it totally fits the theme of abusive relationships. I for one bawled my eyes out watching this as chills ran through my body. It’s THAT accurate…it’s THAT chilling….it’s a MUST watch even if you’re not a rap fan…you can’t argue with brutal honesty. Thank you Eminem~

It’s Thursday bitches.

Time for Mama Kat’s weekly Writer’s Workshop assignment

(have I mentioned that I love Kat and her assignments? Cause I fucking do.)

Here’s how it works: Choose a prompt, post it on your blog, and come back(to Mama Kat) and sign Mr. Linky. Be sure to sign up with the actual post URL and not just your basic blog URL (click on the title of your post for that URL). For good comment karma try to comment on the three blogs above your name!!

The Prompts:
1.) If you could do it over again…
2.) If you were put in “time out”, where would you want to be placed and why?
3.) Steppin outside the box (describe a time when you went way out of your comfort zone)
4.) A long drive…
5.) Describe the first date you went on in a boy’s car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A long drive.

I remember the night I had to accept the harsh reality that the man I met, fell in love with And made a life with was essentially dead. He was gone. There standing in front of me that night was a pale, skinny fidgity meth addict with no soul..nothing in his cold eyes as he looked right at me, his eyes glaring at me in such a way I was actually scared of him…this fuckin monster who just stood there in my kitchen and said “how do I know you’re not fucking wired?!?!” that was the day I felt like a widow.

I’ll never forget the terror that flowed through my veins that night.  He (Mr Meth) looked at me…his cold dark and empty eyes glared at me and as he muttered those words “How do I know YOU’RE not wired” it send a chill through my bones and I knew it was now or never…I had to run.

I grabbed the PIT, her car seat and her diaper bag. I frantically threw whatever baby clothes I could find into the diaper bag and dashed out the door.  I remember how badly I was shaking…I could barely get the PIT fastened into her car seat… Still shaking, but not yet crying, I threw the car in reverse and tore out of the driveway as Mr Meth chased after us, his friends trying to pull him back.  I had no idea where I was going but I knew I had to go.  I hit the highway and headed west….about 1/2 mile down the highway the waterworks started…it suddenly hit me like a Mac truck….that mother fucker was going to kill me. I was in over my head and now I was driving west with absolutely no destination. After a few hours or so of driving, my eyes were swollen and tired, I needed to find a place for the PIT and I to stay the night.

I left the highway that night for a small little town with one hotel. I remember looking over my shoulder constantly…I was still terrified that he would come after us. I checked in under a fake name and paid with cash…the clerk never asked any questions and didn’t ask for my ID.  Perhaps she had noticed my red, puffy eyes and had a hunch that I wanted my presence to go unnoticed.  When I got the PIT and I settled into our room for the night (it was about 3:30am at this time) I went to make the PIT a bottle…..and went “FUCK. I forgot to grab the fucking formula?!” I started to bawl (because clearly THAT was going to help) and then loaded the PIT back into the car and we headed out on the highway AGAIN in search of a grocery store that was open at 3:30am. Another 60 miles down the highway and I found one!

5am I was finally back at the small town hotel with the PIT AND her formula…I was exhausted but never slept. I held my baby girl and I cried….I cried because I felt like such a failure….I cried because I was terrified…I cried because I had no idea what I was going to do.

By the time I checked my phone at 7am, I had 97 missed calls and 55 text messages from one cracked out fuck.  I wasn’t ready to make that drive back to my house just yet…I had to get him OUT before I could go back.

What color was my what?!

It was once said that I was lucky that I hadn’t been burnt so bad by love that Id completely given up.

Clearly a memo was missed.

I happen to think that having your “husband” cheat on you with not one but two crackwhores, in your own home, while you’re giving birth is the kinda burn that can leave an incredibly massive blister on your heart.   And that’s only part of the fire Ive endured with misplaced love.

Shit, I have an entire post dedicated to reasons that I WONT date, plus I revoked my own rights to date until I was 30.

Fuck that noise….Im done. Keeping my heart in my pocket bitches.

Mhhmmmm….thats what Ive said for the last 7 years.

I convinced myself ages ago that there would be no happily ever after for me, it was going to be me and the PIT until she turned 18 and leaves me to chase her dreams (not boys) thus leaving me….destined to be the old cat lady. I wasn’t super stoked about it or anything but I had accepted it.  Ill get a fat lazy cat and yell “GET OFF MY LAWN” like Clint Eastwood did in Gran Torino.

(Badass flick btw..)

My outlook on my future as a single momma changed with one question outta the PIT’s mouth.

“What color was your wedding dress momma?”

gown

Motherfuck. It hits me. This is gonna be interesting…..

My daughter LOVES weddings….she loves everything about weddings, the music, the food, the chicken dance, (most recently she learned the Macarana) but most of all….she LOVES the brides that look like princesses.

So….how the fuck am I going to explain my “wedding”?!?!?

“I didn’t have a wedding dress” I replied.

“Why? What did you wear to the church” the PIT inquired.

*Motherfuck*

“Ahhhhhhh….well, I didn’t get married in a church.” I said

“Well then how did you get married?!” she squealed as if implying that I had been lying this whole time & never actually had been married.
*Pssshhh I wish*

“There are lots of way to get married darling…lotsa places…its not always in a church. Some people get married on a beach or in the woods or something…” I said (yeah…like that’s helping dumbass)

“Did you get married on a beach?!” the PIT asked almost hopeful
*Way to bring up the beach stupid*sweetbeach

“No.” I said as I tried to come up with some way to make this sound not so obscured in her simple lil mind. Turns out…it cant be done. “I got married at the courthouse by the Justice of the Peace” I said with a hint of shame in my voice.

*What a LAMEASS story! How disappointing! She LOVES weddings and wedding stories and I don’t have SHIT to tell her.

“Why?” she asked

“Because” —–Yes that’s all I said. So I left out the “because I was knockered” part…itll come.

“Who was there?” asked the PIT with a very puzzled look on her face….the one that says “Im not buying this because shit momma”

“Auntie” I said

“That’s IT?! She screetched “Was nana there? Or Uncle?”

shockedpeople

*Hmmm well that would have been tough considering I got married on a Saturday and called my family on Sunday night all “Oh hey btw…..I got married yesterday soooooooooo get off my back”

“Just Auntie” I said “That’s all we wanted…just a small, personal ceremony, it was very nice” I said

*Amazing I know. I managed to say that without projectile vomiting. I took a lot of Xanax but I did it.

Ill continue to do it because the PIT loves to hear stories…even though this particular story sucked and its hard for me to talk about him without wanting to puke….she loves to hear stories.

I think Id be ripping her off pretty badly if I didnt at least attempt to tell her any stories….

I think Id be ripping us both off if I didnt at least try to love again

Revisiting my mission…

I generally keep quiet when it comes to talking about relationships shhlet’s face it…I don’t know shit about relationships

Or do I?

Depends how ya look at it I guess.

When I rip on my girlfriends (I’m always the bad friend reminding your girlfriends that they deserve betterwhisper so…step up your game before approaching my friends) they look at me like “yeah yeah…says SINGLE you” and with that look I’ll generally bite my tounge and continue to bash their boyfriends in my mind.

After all, who am I to say shit about relationships.

Well, when it comes to having a successful relationship, yes, I dont know Jack shit.

 Marriage

However, when it comes to royally fucking up your life because of bad relationships, poor choices, letting it slide one to many times, hoping this is the last time he pulls that crap, crushing your soul because of you simply loved the wrong person far too much…when it comes to self destructing because of “him”…I know quite a bit.

 4xy

I can bitch and yell at my girls all I want…bust their mans balls day after day…in the end however it’s always up to them.  I was once the girl getting scolded for making excuses for the worthless turd….the one that wanted it to work so badly I overlooked things, let shit slide…believed him when he promised that this was the last time.

24

I’ve been there…I know…lemme tell ya..some shits just plain unacceptable.

I hope my daughter never forgets for a second that she deserves nothing less than the best.

I hope that by telling my stories..women will be concious of their self worth and will never settle just so they’re not alone. It’s better to be alone and true to ones self than it is to sacrafice a shred of yourself to be with him…

wo 

To thyne own self be true.

2

I’m making it my mission to be the voice that wispers to women everywhere “you deserve what you accept” and reminds them “To thyne own self be true“.

hand

The girl with the scars and souvieners to tell the stories that only further prove the lesson Ive learned to be true…….

you only deserve what you accept.

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.

154

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!!

Who’s to blame for my blogging?

Ever wonder, “What the hell made her start blogging?!”

The people to blame are the people I admire. 

People I would call my blogging “heros”

The primary person to blame for this blog is Matt logelin.

And his robot.

I stumbled across matts story in my beloved People magazine.

At first I rolled my eyes at the story. A single dad raising a kid? Woopie doo.

Then I read it….then I read his blog…and then I bawled.

There was far more to Matts story than being a single father.

Matt raises his gorgeous little girl alone but sees the love of his life in that girls eyes….he gets the double whammy-he sees the joy of being a father in his daughters eyes but that girl is a spitting image of her mother Liz.

 Liz died 2 days postpartum…she died, literally, moments before she was able to hold their newborn baby girl, Madeline.

 I cannot fathom matts pain.

One day he and his wife are welcoming Madeline to the world and the next….his wife, the wife that he so clearly loved was dead.

Matt brought his daughter home to plan her mothers funeral.

Being a first time father and a widow pretty much all at once is enough to make most people break.

Matt didn’t break…instead he carried on without Liz physically present but if you read any of his blog you’ll know Liz is and forever will be in his heart.

And he started a foundation for widows in Liz’s name. 

They shared *that* kinda love….the kind we all hope to find…Matt & Liz had that.

Matt raises Madeline to know that.

I think that’s admirable.

The best thing a father can do for their children is love their mother…..Matt loves Liz and Madeline will know that.

She will-it’s gonna be in a book!

I will being purchasing a copy of matts book when it’s ready.

I love the way he talks about Liz, the way that little things like a sweet & low packet floods him with memories and the way he tells his story…I get lost in the details, caught up in the emotions and usually end up bawling but it’s worth the runny mascara to share in the memories of their love and to watch Madeline grow up…rather quickly!

Matt has been an inspiration to me.

On some levels I can relate to Matt.

We both look into the eyes of our daughters and see the person we once loved who is never coming back again.

Other levels I can’t imagine how Matt feels or survives…he’s clearly a stronger parent/person than I.

Matt loved his wife very much.

Neither one of them had a choice to say or go…liz was ripped from matts life without any warning.

 He still misses liz…he still loves Liz.

 He adores his daughter and to ensure that Madeline will know her mother was an amazing person, Matt takes Madeline by the hand and together they walk in lizs footsteps.

 They recently visited India, a place Matt & Liz had once been together.

To share in the feelings and emotions of facing memories of a love lost too soon…was truely an intense ride.

Reading his story I think “how. How is he not pissed off? Who would he even be pissed off at? God?”

I mean, when I see him in her eyes…I see the person I fell in love with…not the meth addict I divorced.

It’s easier to hate the meth addict that I divorced than it is to miss the man I loved.

 Brings back memories, memories that I don’t want to face because it pisses me off.

 Pisses me off that I was wrong.

Pisses me off that he chose meth over me.

I’d rather forget I ever felt anything at all then feel the pain & regret.

Yet every April I feel it all over again.

It hurts all over again. 

I’m too much of a coward to relive any of the good memories…too much of a coward to talk about him pre meth.

If I had an ounce of Matts courage I might have half a chance at a happily ever after.

Madeline may never meet her mother but her father will make sure she knows her and about the love they shared.

Can’t say I didn’t try

After the why do I look like I should speak Spanish talk I felt like I’d been ripping the PIT off.

She didn’t even know what Asian was!

Clearly I have neglected to teach her anything about her Lao heritage.
I felt the need to fix this issue and teach her about being Lao.

Yeah ok I can’t even type that now without laughing!

 What the hell do I know about being Lao?! Is there such thing as “being Lao”?!

Why would I want to teach her anything other than how to be a good person?

The teach her how to be Lao idea was obviously not something I could teach her.

Shortly after the talk I took the PIT to see my ex husbands aunt & uncle who had always been very kind to me and the PIT.

Mr meth was back in Cali and nowhere near his aunt & uncles and after our talk the PIT thought it would be cool to meet her dads family so one weekend I drove 4 hours with the PIT and we stood hand in hand as I rang the doorbell…we were both nervous.

I hadn’t seen these people in years.

I took off..left town and didn’t exactly keep in touch.

The PIT didn’t remember them at all so it was like the first meeting in her nervous little mind.

Mr meths aunt answered the door with arms open, a smile on her face and tears that I assume were joy..or perhaps relief that she finally got to hug her again…it’s hard to tell because auntie t doesn’t speak English.

(kinda hard to keep in touch when you don’t speak the same language)

Her husband didn’t speak English either…their kids all did but at the moment none of them were home.

We (auntie t, uncle and I) did our best to communicate and make the PIT feel comfortable…this was huge for her, well for all of us.

Soon after we arrived one of their kids came home (thankfully) to translate and that really helped.

 I could tell the PIT was getting frustrated not being able to understand them.

Auntie T cooked up a storm which was awesome!

The PIT had her first homemade Lao meal and she loved it!

Huge fan of sticky rice!

All in all-our first visit to his family went very well.

We made a few more trips to see them over the next couple years.

Each time I noticed the PITs frustration when she wasn’t able to understand them.

I imagine it’s scarey for a little person to suddenly be tossed into a room full of people speaking loudly in another language.

 Our last visit didn’t go so well….there was a party or celebration of some kind at aunties house which means a house full of people…none of whom speak English…all curious to see the PIT they grabbed at her, tried hugging her, tried talking to her…loudly in a foreign language and I could see the overwhelming panic in my daughters eyes as they filled with tears.

The PIT came running into my arms and held on to me so tightly…it was clear to me this would be our last visit.

We tried.

 It killed me to ring that doorbell the first day…I hadn’t had any contact with his family in years but I wanted to at least try for the PIT to introduce her to the good people in his family.

I had done that…she met them.

The language barrier is one that is simply unavoidable.

It frustrates the PIT and makes her very uncomfortable when she can’t understand someone.

 The visits were not proving to be such a good idea.

That night as I buckled the PIT into her car seat and she looked at me and said “momma. I don’t want to come here anymore. Is that ok?”

“that’s perfectly fine peanut” I said as I kissed her on the forehead.

That night I was up all night torn between what to do but in the end I went with my gut.

 The kids not diggin this.

The language barrier is a challenge I don’t feel the PIT and I need to conquer.

Plus there were plenty of cultural barriers that I felt like I didn’t get so how could I help the PIT understand?

I’m not Lao. I barely get my own culture!

It bothered me that in all of our visits and effort….there was never a phone call from them.

They never actually invited us over.

In fact to this day, noone has inquired about my daughter which is fine…it justifies me not going back.

The PIT hasn’t asked to go back to visit and I’m not going to force something I think she’ll be just fine without.

Does she fully get what being biracial is? No….she doesn’t care. She’s content being a kid.

When the time comes that she wants to learn more about the Lao culture…we’ll learn about together.

For now, we are plenty busy learning about life…in general….together.


 

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

 

 

Meet “Auntie”

I think its time for you folks to meet my Rockstar Posse dont you?

Lets start here……

Meet Auntie~ 

My bestie, the PITs godmother, the only female I could ever live with without killing, the only woman I’ve ever offered my uterus to, and current record holder for tolerating my lippy ass the longest.

We went to preschool together, and behaved.
We went to jr high together and did not:)

Auntie & I were quite the duo (still are but in better ways) nobody crossed me without crossing auntie and nobody crossed auntie without crossing me.  We always had each others back-regardless.  Auntie & I along with our “posse” were notorious for starting and finishing some bad ass chick fights. Not gonna lie..I’ve got mean friends when provoked…always been glad that we’re on the same side. 

My best memories are with auntie…I spent every Friday night at her house growing up because her sister (another badass rockstar momma) always had detention Saturdays so I always had a ride home…hehe…thanks ang!

*FINE! to be fair…auntie & I had plenty of detention as well…I had 8 hours once for 47 tardies in one class…I think we were 48 days into the class too…alright fine so I’m late…alot…so what~

Auntie & I grew up together, literally. We passed notes to each other in jr high…we were seperated most of hs classes (psssh like that stopped us) we skipped school together…whew…alot of school..almost skipped my entire jr year come to think of it…

We had our firsts together..first boyfriend, first kisses, first broken heart, first time being arrested, first time hitting the others worthless turd of a man in the face…alrite so that was only me but he had it coming & if mr meth or the drunk ever meet auntie in a dark alley they’d met the end of her Louisville slugger. (never underestimate the littlest chick in the bunch–she’s gonna be the one that knocks your ass out—I’ve seen her do it!

(thanks for saving me from that hefer who had me by the throat momma!)

Auntie is more then my best friend &  favorite accomplice…she’s my sister…(one mother could not have handled us both)
She quit her job, left her close knit family and moved with me immediatley after the divorce…no questions, no excuses, no doubt in her mind that she could sacrifice a year outta her life to hold my hand and help me get back up on my feet again. We packed up a uhaul…partied like fuckin rockstars and left town (my brother drove the uhaul..we were still wasted & wearing Maudi Gras beads when we got to our new place) ahhhh memories!
She’s still the baddest bitch I know. 

She’s a mother now…she is a rockstar momma.

The sight of her with her son makes my heart melt…the admiration between them is breathe taking. I absolutely love watching her be momma. I also admire the fact that after all she has been thru…she never gave up on love yet she never settled in the end…Auntie always believed in happily ever after…shes a romantic…she believes in love and she has found love…..she is an amazing woman…besides the PIT…she’s the most fascinating creature I’ve had the pleasure to meet.  She continues to challenge me everyday just by not giving up on me….she is certain that there is a “girl” in me somewhere & that I do have a heart even if I hate admitting it.  I drive her nuts because I am always her shoulder to cry on but never allow myself to cry on hers….she MAKES me look her in the eyes when she knows Im trying to hide the hurt…shes on to me!  Even though I made her read all the dirt right here about Mr meth & what not…even though I insist on keeping it all inside this woman keeps banging “LET ME IN”   I am grateful everyday for her persistance…I am grateful everyday that I have a bestie like her and that the PIT has the greatest Godmother on the planet.  She has pushed me to be, to believe and to love…I wouldnt be who I am today without the love & compassion of my best friend……

 april&chris

 

Ps–I know Auntie reads this so…

Hey Auntie~
Luff you..luff you lon time!
493 rookie seals…..lmao ok I’m not gonna lie…totally spit on the phone typing that! Ahaha!! I love you momma…
LYLAS

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”