Monday, October 1, 2012


  It's official, I am a hot mess. I think I may get used to it, but I'm not liking it right now. At all! I am the oldest of three children. I was the one that moved out, & did (have done) my very best to never move back in. There was a very brief stay with my father that did not go, nor end well. And two different tries with my mom, she's great most of the time, but we CANNOT live in the same house. So, I have always tried to be self-sufficient pay my own bills, buy my own vehicles, blah, blah, blah... Totally not working here lately ):
  My life has never had a "plan". I never said I would be married by age _, have _ kids by age _... You get the idea. In fact, I was the daughter that makes mom's everywhere cringe. I wasn't going to have a husband. I did not ever play with dolls and say this one has the same name that my devil child will have one day, there were no children. 
I dare someone to ever tell me life does not have a sense of humor. I do in fact have a husband, that I am doing a very poor job (according to my MIL) of being a wife to. And kids, yep those too. The only part of this that has been 100% intentional is the husband. I really married my very best friend, & we are on a swift path to self destruction, but I'm not fluid enough in my thoughts on that t write about it yet. So I will tell you secrets that not many people who have met me face to face know, about kids..
  I have given birth three times. And have one Chewie to show for my efforts. Before you feel badly, let me tell it all so you can decide to shoot me, or empathize/symphathize with me.. It may be a hard call, & I'm ok with that, I hope. I can say this, at least I didn't have girls.
  So here's the roll call, & a brief story of each boy. And a explanation (?) of why I worry over whether or not I'm doing a good job. Number 1 is going to be 16 next summer. His dad, & I were all bad from the beginning, if it weren't for number one we wouldn't have been together as long as we were. When we told his parents, his mother didn't take one second to allow it to sink in before she was getting her address book out to call their preacher. I will never forget the look on her face when I said, "We said I am pregnant, not we are engaged". That moment is when she decided to make my life hell for as long as she was in it. The second time I got her to make the same face was when I threatened her in front of 7 police officers, I believe I said, "I will bounce your fat ass all the way through this house, out the fecking back door, beat you over your red head with a shovel, & bury you in your own yard if you do not bring me my son now!". Yep, that's what I said. And all the police said was be careful how you talk to her in front of us, she went to high school with the Chief". The warning was heard, loud, & clear, next time I said something nasty (there were lots of next times) I made sure no law enforcement was within ear shot. To skip most of the stupid shit, that relationship obviously went worse fast. We split, custody sharing went well. Initially. Then after I had put out her child, we still would run into one another at clubs on occasion (I was only 22, that's what 22 year old people used to do, go to clubs), & once I felt badly for him, & let him sleep on my couch. Apparently, my bed strongly resembled my couch, & no sounded a fuck of a lot like yes. During our very nasty two and a half year custody battle I was secretly pregnant. So secretly, only myself (Chewie's bio-dad), & my mother knew about it, my Godmother was told later so she could help me as well. Then came number 2.
  Number two is gorgeous, also.. I make great looking boys, too bad they try to kill me, literally. Number one caused a small abrupt ion, the doc's said "No big deal, first baby, this can happen". I also need to add here that I begged for a tubal, like I had since the age of 16 after the birth of Number 1. The whole word said (except my mom), "You can't be sure that's what you want", despite the fact that I bawled like hell when they wouldn't give me one. Back to Number 2. My beautiful, healthy, content boy also tried to kill me. The excuse this time was that I was so small (pregnant lady-wise) that things like that should be expected. Number 2 was adopted by a wonderful family whose entire family is filled with adopted children (nieces, nephews, everyone). And they (at the time) raised Rotties. They gave him everything he would not have had with me, & Number 1 asshole. They are my heroes, & I am forever grateful to them. He is going to be 14 next year.
  And now there are three. Number 3, is my number one. Chewie.. This child is disrespectful, rude, does not listen to a fecking thing that comes out of my mouth, but he is mine. His dad may leave me, his bio-dad left everyone. But until the day some female welcomes him into her home, he is mine. I may fuck him up real bad before I give him away, but isn't that what parents do?

1 comment:

  1. Love the honesty here. You're doing the best job you know how to do, I'm sure that Chewie will be fine dear. Don't stress yourself out about it too badly :)