Tag Archives: fathers

What color was my what?!

Posted on July 1, 2010 | 4 Comments

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…

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I am not a Choice Mom. I’m a Mom with a Choice and a Voice

Posted on June 3, 2010 | 12 Comments

This is interesting….mostly because the quote below..the sperm one….yeah, that one. I said it. Apparently it’s caused a rukus and I am getting no credit for it what-so-ever. I take that back. A very large sperm bank, known nationally,  is now following yours truly on twitter and you know how twitter makes me feel famous.  (Plus-the avatar is a lil spermy swimming around which I find amusing) That’s my kinda credit! Thanks for the follow @cryobank

@KatWilder said this:

Yeah, I know I just wrote about choice moms, but I then I got a tweet from Singlemommyhood —“Thanks for the sperm, but I’ll take it from here.”

OK, tweeting something like that gets someone’s attention; it certainly got mine. It’s provocative, if a tad antagonistic toward men. Kind of like a guy tweeting — Thanks for the sex, but you’re just a piece of ass to me, so I’ll take it from here.

Feel good?

As it turns out, the mom who wrote that isn’t a choice mom; she’s divorced, like I am. But, that’s an odd attitude to promote in a discussion about
supporting choice mothers, isn’t it?

When I read this I honestly laughed so hard I almost pissed myself.  All I could hear was the theme song from “Dexter” except it’s starring me and my slides of sperm I keep from each of my sexual endeauvours just in case I want a baby at some point later on.

CLEARLY, that was my objective all along. At the age of seventeen I knew it was my destiny to become the “She-Dexter of DNA”.

Damnit. Did it again. Almost pissed myself laughing so hard but come on…..can’t you just see the pilot episode now?! I’m totally casting the donors in my mind right now….

I honestly do not see the relation between what I said and “thanks for the poontang” but whatever…opinions are like assholes….some assholes are more….well, narrow, than others.

So here’s the deal @Kat, you’re right. I am not a choice mom as it’s defined as “being a single woman who proactively decides to build a family on her own.”

I did not proactively decide to build a family on my own.

I was given the gift of motherhood from a greater power than my own decision making and I made the proactive choice to pursue a healthy, safe and loving home for my gift, now known as the PIT, even after the man that I once loved and trusted for several years, chose to crumble to his knees sucking the Devils dick aka smoking meth

(ever met a meth addict Kat? Ever watched them twitch with paranoia wondering who or what is around them….ever looked into a meth addicts eyes to see nothing, no soul… You say I’m divorced just like you so tell me…did your husband try to kill you or steal the baby from you? Did you fear for your life? How exactly am I at all like you? PS-Having terminated parental rights puts me way past this full custody thing you speak of.  Please don’t insult my lawyer. She fought her ass off for me and the PIT.)

There is a difference.  Recently I stumbled upon Mikki Morrissette and ChoiceMoms.

I assure you…there IS a difference between ‘them’ and ‘moms like me’. I think Ms. Morrissette says it best here

“To me, obviously anyone who is a single parent is a single parent and we share a lot of the same stresses because of it. So there is a circle that we are all in. But women who proactively become a single parent from the very start do not need to talk about child support, and tension with the ex, and tremendous loss and trauma for her and child, and custody battles. We tend to need to talk — a lot — about HOW to conceive or adopt, and then how to handle newborn baby boot camp, and then how to talk about the lack of a father, or being donor conceived. Those are very different party conversations so I see no problem in having our own “club” in which to talk about it. It’s not a matter of Choice Moms “counting” more. It’s about what we need to talk about and finding women in the same situation to talk to — at my Choice Mom networking events, this website, the discussion board, the podcast, the books.”

If things had been different in my life…if I were at a point in my life where I was financially able to and if at that point in my life I wanted a child, yet had no manfriend,  I would have no problem dialing up @cryobank and getting some sperm

(calm down. I know it’s not that easy, I’m actually in awe at what some women go through trying to get pregnant. I’m very well aware of how blessed I am…I also made the proactive choice to not abuse this God given fertility.  My tubes are tied and fried, I’m on the pill and I’m a tease…eye candy at best…touch me and I’ll shoot you. I have ISSUES)

So what’s my point here? I don’t give a shit how one got to parenthood, what matters is how you handle your gift of guidance aka parenting.  I like the variety of moms and dads I’ve met over the years. Married, single, bitter, romantic, gay, solo, not so solo….whatever….I enjoy hearing the stories behind the parents, perhaps that is why I’m so friggin fabulous….we all have a story, I like to hear em and I like to be the obnoxious foul mouthed cheerleader for single moms, single dads and whom ever else I feel is worthy of my effort. Am I a big deal? Only in my mind but so what.

When I left that comment at Singlemommyhood, the one that was taken out of context and twisted into what would be a badass show, I was there simply showing support for mothers…ALL mothers, something I do often and won’t be easing up on anytime soon.

My mistake Kat, you’re right, I’m not a Choice Mom. I applaud those who are and to them I say “WooHooo! Welcome to motherhood!!”

I’m a mom with a choice and a voice. I use both and I use them well.

As for your question of “are fathers irrelevant”…..

Don’t be silly. Of course they are not irrelevant. DNA doesn’t make a father, it makes a baby.

I stand by my previous statement. There’s more to being a dad than DNA. Act the part or get the fuck out.

My favorite quote from Mikki is this:  Can we do things alone? Yes. Is that the goal? No.

Perfectly said, thank you Ms. Morrisette.

Did I want to do this alone at the time? Nope.

Like I said I’m not a choice mom, I’m a mom with a choice and I didn’t sign up for this shit….I was GIVEN it and it’s been the greatest gift I never knew I wanted.

Let me set this straight for you @KatWilder

Yes. There is a difference in Choice Moms vs Moms with a Choice.

Is that difference relevant? Nope. At the end of the day we’re all still parents who love our children and do our best to raise them well.

I bet if you take a look around at some of the Choice Moms who have older children now…..I bet they are fabulous and captivating creatures that are nowhere near doomed simply because they were raised my one parent.

Before you pass out anymore judgement miss thang, do your research first.

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2010/04/05/chapter-9final-in-the-book-of-meth/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/sometimes-being-a-single-mom-blows/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2010/04/29/do-as-i-say-not-as-i-do/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2010/04/25/i-didnt-sign-up-for-shit-i-was-given-this/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2010/04/07/the-dad-issue/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2010/04/06/she-misses-her-what/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2009/04/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2009/06/18/just-so-you-know/

http://notyouraveragesinglemomma.com/2009/06/18/fine-not-all-men-are-assclowns/

That should keep you busy for a bit

PS—Choice Moms out there……#assslap  Sending you all my warm fertile vibes…..best wishes!! I’m not gonna lie.

Being a mom ROCKS

(even when being a single mom blows)

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Rockstar mommas, world domination and even a few good MEN (I know, I was shocked too)

Posted on April 23, 2010 | 6 Comments
**For those of you who have been putting up with me over the last year as I blogged and unblogged….some of these posts are going to look firmiliar.  You’re not bonkers–they are firmiliar.  I’m going back to what I already knew—but I’m bringing new knowledge, feelings and experiences with me, adding them into the mix, shaking shit up and rocking the fuck on.  Mhmm…I slipped. Shit happens–I apparently AM human.  One fabulously bitchtastic human. Now, back to the original plan with a twist—** 

What makes a rockstar momma?

Tattoos, piercings, in your face hair do’s, a foul mouth and a criminal record?

 Is there an “official” definition for it? Beats me.

Not interested.

I’m making my own definition

 Making my own rules, marching to the beat of my own funky lil drum, rockin the shit outta this ozzy red/gwen stefani blonde hair, getting tattoos and one day……world domination.

I’m bringing some hott rockstar mommas with me too.

This picture defines what a rockstar momma is......beauty

Like this gorgeous creature… 

Each rockstar momma in this posse is unique and a rockstar in her own way. But we all share the common bond of “I’m a mother, not a damsel in distress” and that my friends, is a serious force to be reckoned with.

My rockstar momma posse is going to change the world by being honest, opinionated, respectful, caring, compassionate and not afraid to say “I fucked up. And?  I also survived.” 

We don’t judge each other or anyone else for that matter, we don’t bullshit, and we raise our children to be baby rockstars.

Not all the mommas in my rockstar posse are as “in your face” and brutally honest as I am.  Not all use fuck four times in one sentance like me.  Some of us are single mommas, some of us are married mommas…..  We all want the best for our children.  We will work together to be the change that we wish to see in the world and one day we will actually see the world change……when our rockstar babies take the stage the world will be a better place because they had kickass rockstar mommas and even in some cases….a superhero dad. 

 

Brace yourself and get ready to meet some of the most amazing rockstar mommas and dudes that are NOT dinks or douchers….EVER~

**Check out my first round draft picks in “Links to Dudes that are NOT DINKS”**

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Im gonna rock the shit outta this motherhood bit…

Posted on April 13, 2010 | 1 Comment

Pushing a person outta the devil chute can really change your perspective on things.

 Parents and parenting techniques vary as much as a child and a childs behavior.

Before I birthed a child from these loins I knew everything there was about kids…the were noisy and rather “in your face all the time” which I found rather annoying.  I have a very low tolerance for pretty much anything really so I just figured I pass on the parenting bit….until of course I met the PIT. I remember before I was “momma”…I would see that kid in the grocery store throwing that awful hissy fit or the obnoxious kid at a resturant and thinking…”hmpfh if that were my kid by golly…” funny how we know everything about parenting until we actually are parents. 

conv

Now as a parent I find myself feeling clueless…stumbling thru this crazy tangled mess of a life as a mom and a single/stubborn one at that!  I find myself almost daily using a quote or two that Ive picked up and carried with me thru life and passing that onto the PIT as I try my best to teach her….do I know what Im doing, is my way the right way for all, do I think I have all the answers?

Nope. Nope and nope…..hell I dont even know the fucking questions yet let alone the answers! 

Am I gonna rock the shit outta this motherhood bit

legs-1

and raise on hell of a respectful, independant, open minded, smart, caring, compassionate and quite frankly….a mighty force to be reckoned with?

 

I’m changing the world one lil baby rockstar at a time…..my own way~

  

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She misses her what?

Posted on April 6, 2010 | 6 Comments

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~

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Who’s to blame for my blogging?

Posted on February 13, 2010 | 9 Comments

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.

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Flood of memories

Posted on February 3, 2010 | 11 Comments

Tonight a commercial for the super bowl came on and for some reason that triggered a flood of memories that felt so fresh, so real…..I felt a chill down my spine as the chill of the feelings of that day…the way I felt that day.

Eight years ago to the day. 2-2-02.

Memories both good and bad of joy and sorrow all poured over me like a cold rain.

I felt it.

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

2-2-02:

It was the day before the super bowl.

I remember that so well because it was the super bowl where the Patriots played someone and the Patriots were sure to lose so my meth addicted husband placed a bet against the Patriots.

This one…..

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The American Football Conference (AFC) champion New England Patriots (14–5) win their first Super Bowl by defeating the National Football Conference (NFC) champion St. Louis Rams (16–3), 20–17, as kicker Adam Vinatieri made a game-winning 48-yard field goal as time expired. The Rams had been 14-point favorites to win the game, making the Patriots’ victory one of the biggest upsets in Super Bowl history.

Mhmmmm….and he had bet a shit-ton of money on that game. Which is probably the logic thing to do when you’re out of work and tweeked outta your fucking mind….

The day before that Super Bowl game I had my regularly scheduled weekly fetus check.  Still on bedrest….still not working…bored out of my mind and rather depressed I was SO hoping to find out if the fetus was a boy or a girl.  I had worked at the hospital during my pregnancy….I had access to nurses and ultra sound machines….and I totally abused that access:)  I started trying to find out what sex the fetus was going to be at 13 weeks gestation.  Early, yes, Im impatient damnit!  2-2-02 at 33 weeks along the little shit FINALLY cooperated with me and revealed her lil vajj!  So many emotions surged through my already hormonal and unstable mind….in all honesty…I had ‘planned’ on the fetus being a boy.  Seriously, what the hell do I know about being a girl besides most of the time it pretty much sucks ass?! I suck at being a girl.  To this day, I still do not own a dress. Why? What the hell am I going to wear it with? My sneakers? Oh yeah-one pair of shoes. I hate shoes.  I was freaking the fuck out.  I dont know what to do with a girl?! Holy fuck…now Im really in over my head!

  (right, because having recently found out your husbands a meth addict & your in preterm labor isnt quite in over my head)

I left the appointment still a little bit in shock.  I honestly didnt think I was going to have a girl.  I was totally rooting for a boy. 

(Looking back, I blame the hormones.)

 I went home and just sat on the couch…the house was quite well except for the pups playing…other than that I was alone. 

As I had been for most of the pregnancy. 

 In some ridiculous attempt to try and provoke my husband into “daddy” mode I called him to tell him that he was having a daughter and I dont know what I expected I guess…..not facing the reality of what your husband has become can seriously cloud ones thinking. 

No you know what. Fuck that. I do know what I was expecting.  I was expecting a “YAY!!!” or “Lets go buy something PINK” or some sort of joy…some sort of reassurance that this was going to be ok…some sort of connection–I expected him to feel something. 

Instead, when I told him the fetus was a girl he simply replied “Oh. Ok. Is there anything else? Im in the middle of a card game.” 

Really?!

 ”Alright well since you asked motherfucker yes there is something else. GO FUCK YOURSELF.” and I hung up the phone so pissed I was shaking…so pissed I threw the phone and scared the bejesus outta the pups who I honestly did not see there.  So pissed all I could do was cry. So I did.  I cried for hours as the reality set in….that son of a bitch is too far gone.  There’s no feeling left…i dont know that man…I dont want him anywhere near me or MY daughter.  I cried myself to sleep that night…..

The next day I went out and bought my first pink baby blanket.  I felt a little bit better as I put the pink blanket into my “time to birth this baby” bag. 

I was having a girl!!

I had no idea what to do with a girl but I also was clueless about raising boys.  Im glad the Lord gave me a girl….that girl….MY girl. 

The girl who is now snorring on the couch behind me in a pink Vikings jersey (she was the only one upset by their loss btw…) and the kitten Jake Maxwell snuggled up under her arm.

  I think he’s comfortable….I hope shes not choking him! It does sorta look like shes got him in a headlock….I better check on that…

Back to that day in 2002….I still hadnt heard from mr meth and with that he fueled the fire which eventually burned any ties between us.  He actually called on Super Bowl Sunday to tell me cry to me about the thousands of dollars he had lost on that game to a certain druglord thug that is the kind of thug you’re going to pay back.  No “how ya feelin?”, “hows the fetus?” nothing….just Im in trouble….that was just the start of a long line of “Im in trouble” moments and disappointment that I could have done a lifetime without……

PS–Jake Maxwell IS breathing.  It wasnt a chokehold afterall

 

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Posted in and then theres this kinda shit, I like to bitch.ALOT, I rarely ever to never have anything nice to say...like right now, Journey to find....me, Just because Im a mom does NOT mean I wont throat punch you, My ex's MAY have made me kinda bitter, NEWSFLASH: Im a bitch, remember that one time, The Book of Meth

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Being pregnant can be scary enough

Posted on January 23, 2010 | 1 Comment
  

Being pregnant can be scary enough.  

  Preterm labor and the risk of losing your baby is a whole new kind of scary.  

 

This….is my story….   

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….   

It was like any other night.    

I finished my shift at the hospital and was home around midnight.   

 Mr. Meth was still working at this time, we had been married for 21 days, I was 26 weeks pregnant and mr meth had recently started acting odd.   

I was home around midnight, tired and feeling like ass from a nasty cold but Mr. Meth was MIA. He should have been home from work before me.   

This was still rather new behavior; it was the first time I thought “holy hell. I’m on my own.”   

You see, that night in January when I had a nasty cold, a coughing fit sent me into preterm labor.   

   I knew that these pains I were no normal pains that a pregnant woman should have, at least not yet.    

 I called Mr. Meth over & over but he never answered…ass.    

I headed to the hospital alone.   

   

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26 weeks into my pregnancy and I was hooked up to monitors, IVs and scared shitless.   

Barely past the half way point is not far enough!   

“What the hell was happening here and where the fuck is my husband?!?” I thought to myself.    

My doctor came in and explained to me that I was dilated to 2 and 90% effaced.    

Interesting, now what the fuck does that mean doc?!    

Well, apparently that means that your cervix is preparing for delivery even though the baby’s not done cookin and that is a problem.    

 A big problem.    

You’re not supposed to start effacing until much later in the pregnancy and the doctor told me that “when you go into labor, you’re going to go quick”    

Ok…so what are we talking here? She’s like gonna slip out?! What the hell do I do now?!   

A baby’s chances of survival at 26 weeks is not that great ok…I was freaking out, absolutely terrified and incredibly pissed off.    

Mr. Meth showed up at the hospital around 2am…by then I had already been seen by the doctors and the labor had been stopped…I was told to rest…no stress—obviously they had no idea my husband was a stress inducing asshole.    

 In order to attempt the no stress I simply ignored him when he came in my room.    

 “Are you ok?” he asked    

“Yup” I said and that was that.    

 I told him that I was being kept overnight for observation…which was a blatant lie.    

Shortly after he left my doctor came back in and went over my discharge instructions and told me that I was hereby on strict bed rest—I wouldn’t be working anymore.    

That sucked because I actually liked working at this time!    

I went home….alone…Mr. Meth was not there when I arrived…who knows where he was.   

 I didn’t care.    

I was worn out and all the fighting and stressing with him was clearly having a bad impact on me and the baby.    

I was exhausted from the fear of “oh shit-what was that pain?! Omg was that another one?!”    

 I was scared, worried, tired, depressed, disappointed and alone.    

 I spent the remainder of my pregnancy like that.    

Scared, worried, tired, depressed and alone.    

 I went in to my doctor every week for the rest of the pregnancy as well…that gets kinda fucking annoying ya know?    

 Being pregnant is scary enough, I mean I remember barely being pregnant and thinking “there is not a day that I’m not going to think about this baby inside me”  granted, I’m an all star worrier but add preterm labor into the mix and I’m beyond terrified.    

 Thankfully, I worked (well up until that night) at the hospital so the nurses knew me and my crazy ways and they were very tolerant of my every frazzled frantic phone call asking if “this” is normal (like it’s easy to assess a pregnant woman over the phone)   

They were patient and kind every time I coughed my way back into the preterm room.    

Without them I would have been utterly alone and I’m grateful that I wasn’t.   

  They helped get my through the rest of the pregnancy and they were there when I delivered at 39 ½ weeks.   

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Today the PIT is pushing 8 years old and is healthy, active and never ever shuts up!    

 Each year we participate in the March Of Dimes WalkAmerica which is a charity close to my heart for obvious reasons.   

Last year we walked in honor of Kolton who was born far too early at just 27 weeks and spend months in the hospital.    

  

 The latest report from his dad?
  Kolton is doing great! Healthy and active giving his brother a run for his money! 

   

The PIT and I are excited to see Kolton and his family at this years walk!    

We’re praying for sunshine this year..seriously..we’ve walked this in the snow! We want sun!!   

    

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*If you or someone close to you has a preterm labor story that you would like to share please email me at   

notyouraveragesinglemomma@gmail.com   

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Posted in and then theres this kinda shit, My ex's MAY have made me kinda bitter, remember that one time, The Book of Meth

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Sometimes being a single mom blows

Posted on October 18, 2009 | 14 Comments

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.

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Posted in I like to bitch.ALOT, I rarely ever to never have anything nice to say...like right now, Just because Im a mom does NOT mean I wont throat punch you

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Ignorance….

Posted on October 13, 2009 | 8 Comments

 

 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

 

 

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Posted in I like to bitch.ALOT, I rarely ever to never have anything nice to say...like right now, Just because Im a mom does NOT mean I wont throat punch you

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