My secret identity has been compromised.
I leaked sensitive information about my family two posts ago.
Sure, Worker Mommy pointed it out and I got it fixed up. But I have no way of knowing who saw the information before that.
I had to make a choice. I could track the IP addresses of anyone who visited my blog from the first publishing time to the second and blackmail them to keep quiet (or, you know, just kill them). OR! I could just not do anything. Or I could come clean.
I have decided...The jig is up.
To tell you the truth, I was getting a little sick of the Blog Names, anyway. I had reasons for each one of them - the main being to protect my family from any weirdos that might want to come steal my babies in the middle of the night. But the more I think about it, the more I convince myself - they're never going to find them solely because they know our names. Because, really, we all have extremely common names. Not like my mom or sister - whose names will never be mentioned on here.
Without further ado, I give you the Butrfly Family Breakdown:
The Man = Mike
Sunshine = Alyssa
Ninja Boy = Nicholas
Butrfly = Amy (Me) (Oh, wait, you knew that one.)*
From here on out, we give up our Uber-Secret Identities and will stick with not letting our last names out.
So. There you go. Merry Late Christmas. I got you Information! Hope it fits.
*(Or did you? How would you feel if I told you that was NOT my real name??)
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Watching Church
One lazy Sunday afternoon, The Man yelled down to Sunshine, “What are you doing?”
“Just watching church, daddy!” She yelled back.
How great is that? Taking her own precious childhood time to watch church and learn about God on her little Dora TV!
But when he actually went downstairs a short time later, he found her watching Cristina’s Court. “What’s this?” he asked, “I thought you were watching church.”
“I am.” She said.
Lord, I am sorry.
I will take her to a REAL church soon…I will!
**Blog post inspired by Cherann’s Princess-isms**
“Just watching church, daddy!” She yelled back.
How great is that? Taking her own precious childhood time to watch church and learn about God on her little Dora TV!
But when he actually went downstairs a short time later, he found her watching Cristina’s Court. “What’s this?” he asked, “I thought you were watching church.”
“I am.” She said.
Lord, I am sorry.
I will take her to a REAL church soon…I will!
**Blog post inspired by Cherann’s Princess-isms**
Thursday, May 31, 2007
ADD Thursday
A few things to take care of today:
Worker Mommy has harassed – I mean TAGGED – me to do this meme:
INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.
1) BlondeMomBlog
2) Bun in the Oven3
3) You da Mom
4) Worker Mommy
5) Butrfly Garden
Next, select five people to tag:
Anyone on my blogroll (See: “Cool People”) that hasn’t done it yet.
What were you doing 10 years ago?
Let’s see… I was fifteen, so I was in tenth grade. At this exact moment, I was probably in my Child Development class making paper weapons. (Yeah, I was high.)
What were you doing 1 year ago?
Crying at Sunshine’s Preschool Graduation (Funny that Life As I Know It posted about it today!)
Five snacks you enjoy:
1) Baked! Chips…especially Doritos and Scoops
2) Act II 94% Fat Free Butter 100 Calorie Mini-bags
3) Breakfast bars (esp. South Beach Choco Protein and Special K)
4) Applesauce Oatmeal Muffins (They are so yummy and healthy!!)
5) Chocolate. Lots and Lots of Sweet (or dark!) Chocolate.
Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:
That’s like saying “Five things you’ve seen in your life,” How do I choose five?
1) Most Incubus songs
2) Almost all Fleetwood Mac/Stevie Nicks songs
3) Same with Madonna
4) And Korn
5) Two ICP songs (hahahah! Really!! NOOOO, I’m not a “juggalette”!)
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1) Start a nonprofit – probably a safehouse for abused families
2) Drive a WAY better car
3) Go to a party with Paris Hilton, Linsay Lohan and Nicole Richie so I could personally kick all of their asses and tell them off.
4) Go to the spa every day
5) Fly my family and friends to a remote tropical location for my dream wedding
Damn, that one was easy!
Five bad habits:
1) Swearing (glad I’m not alone in this!)
2) Clicking the Blue “E” (aka my Internet Addiction)
3) Not calling people – or answering the phone (I HATE the phone)
4) Engaging someone in a conversation that was already in progress in my head (does that make sense?)
5) Crying – is that a habit? I do it a lot.
Five things you like doing:
1) Yoga
2) Meditation
3) Traveling
4) Hiking
5) Getting better at golf
Funny how I do NONE of them, eh?
Five things you would never wear again:
1) stretch pants
2) the t-shirt I bought at Ozzfest a few years back
3) All the backless tank tops I own (I miss you Body!!)
4) My prom dress that’s STILL hanging in the closet
5) My incredibly sexy black strappy heels (both pair) – only because after pregnancy, my feet no longer fit. I should offer them up (Small size 8!). Or just keep them to look at. Yeah. Cuz they’re so pretty.
Five favorite toys:
1) my iPod (It’s my BEST FRIEND, it makes EVERY list!)
2) My digicam
3) My computer
4) MediaPlayer on days like today when I forget #1
5) NetFlix (does that count!?)
In *other* news:
As far as Scari’s visitation last night, I left work EARLY to make sure I was there when she picked them up. I got home and The Man said she called and said she had to work (WORK!? What about your Crazy Benefits!?) and could she take them tomorrow (No, because Wednesday is the only day NB doesn’t have homework). So she actually said “Let me call my work and see if I can start tomorrow.” START? That job sounds like it’s going to last!! Anyway, she got every Wednesday off showed up about six. Word on the street (or from the kids, whatever) is that her new job is COLD CALLING to sell MAGAZINES. WTH were we thinking when we said she wasn’t stable enough to raise kids?
It makes me think about Orlando Jones on Office Space and it makes me LAUGH!
“Good evening Sir, my name is Steve. I come from a rough area. I used to be addicted to crack but now I am off it and trying to stay clean. That is why I am selling magazine subscriptions.”
AND…she’s still telling them that they’re coming to stay with her for the summer, which, NO. Just, No. No problems, though, we didn’t even talk to her.
Also, this is my 100th post. I meant for this to be my “100 Things About Me” post, but that just ain’t gonna happen. So, yay for me for making it this long!
Worker Mommy has harassed – I mean TAGGED – me to do this meme:
INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.
1) BlondeMomBlog
2) Bun in the Oven3
3) You da Mom
4) Worker Mommy
5) Butrfly Garden
Next, select five people to tag:
Anyone on my blogroll (See: “Cool People”) that hasn’t done it yet.
What were you doing 10 years ago?
Let’s see… I was fifteen, so I was in tenth grade. At this exact moment, I was probably in my Child Development class making paper weapons. (Yeah, I was high.)
What were you doing 1 year ago?
Crying at Sunshine’s Preschool Graduation (Funny that Life As I Know It posted about it today!)
Five snacks you enjoy:
1) Baked! Chips…especially Doritos and Scoops
2) Act II 94% Fat Free Butter 100 Calorie Mini-bags
3) Breakfast bars (esp. South Beach Choco Protein and Special K)
4) Applesauce Oatmeal Muffins (They are so yummy and healthy!!)
5) Chocolate. Lots and Lots of Sweet (or dark!) Chocolate.
Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:
That’s like saying “Five things you’ve seen in your life,” How do I choose five?
1) Most Incubus songs
2) Almost all Fleetwood Mac/Stevie Nicks songs
3) Same with Madonna
4) And Korn
5) Two ICP songs (hahahah! Really!! NOOOO, I’m not a “juggalette”!)
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1) Start a nonprofit – probably a safehouse for abused families
2) Drive a WAY better car
3) Go to a party with Paris Hilton, Linsay Lohan and Nicole Richie so I could personally kick all of their asses and tell them off.
4) Go to the spa every day
5) Fly my family and friends to a remote tropical location for my dream wedding
Damn, that one was easy!
Five bad habits:
1) Swearing (glad I’m not alone in this!)
2) Clicking the Blue “E” (aka my Internet Addiction)
3) Not calling people – or answering the phone (I HATE the phone)
4) Engaging someone in a conversation that was already in progress in my head (does that make sense?)
5) Crying – is that a habit? I do it a lot.
Five things you like doing:
1) Yoga
2) Meditation
3) Traveling
4) Hiking
5) Getting better at golf
Funny how I do NONE of them, eh?
Five things you would never wear again:
1) stretch pants
2) the t-shirt I bought at Ozzfest a few years back
3) All the backless tank tops I own (I miss you Body!!)
4) My prom dress that’s STILL hanging in the closet
5) My incredibly sexy black strappy heels (both pair) – only because after pregnancy, my feet no longer fit. I should offer them up (Small size 8!). Or just keep them to look at. Yeah. Cuz they’re so pretty.
Five favorite toys:
1) my iPod (It’s my BEST FRIEND, it makes EVERY list!)
2) My digicam
3) My computer
4) MediaPlayer on days like today when I forget #1
5) NetFlix (does that count!?)
In *other* news:
As far as Scari’s visitation last night, I left work EARLY to make sure I was there when she picked them up. I got home and The Man said she called and said she had to work (WORK!? What about your Crazy Benefits!?) and could she take them tomorrow (No, because Wednesday is the only day NB doesn’t have homework). So she actually said “Let me call my work and see if I can start tomorrow.” START? That job sounds like it’s going to last!! Anyway, she got every Wednesday off showed up about six. Word on the street (or from the kids, whatever) is that her new job is COLD CALLING to sell MAGAZINES. WTH were we thinking when we said she wasn’t stable enough to raise kids?
It makes me think about Orlando Jones on Office Space and it makes me LAUGH!
“Good evening Sir, my name is Steve. I come from a rough area. I used to be addicted to crack but now I am off it and trying to stay clean. That is why I am selling magazine subscriptions.”
AND…she’s still telling them that they’re coming to stay with her for the summer, which, NO. Just, No. No problems, though, we didn’t even talk to her.
Also, this is my 100th post. I meant for this to be my “100 Things About Me” post, but that just ain’t gonna happen. So, yay for me for making it this long!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
In Which The Boy Turns on Me
DISCLAIMER: I never meant for this blog to be a ‘mommyblog’ or a ‘step-mommyblog’ or a “Join us on our fight for custody” blog – but I gotta get this out somehow or it will eat away at my brain and my heart and will eventually kill me (I am NOT overdramatic – or emo). So, if you have the patience, read on. I’m not rereading it and I’m not even the slightest bit concerned about my grammar. Or language. Bear with me or don’t – I just can’t afford therapy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Friday morning I was hit with a bomb. On our way out the door, I said, “I sure hope you get your toys off the living room floor before you go to your mom’s this weekend – I’d hate to see them ‘disappear.’” In response I got, “I’m going to go live with my mom,” from the Ninja Boy.
“No you aren’t.” I calmly replied.
“Yes I am. She said I could. When I’m twelve I get to pick who I’m going to live with and she can take care of me now.”
I was still a little shocked that he responded. I tried to put it simply, “No, she CAN’T take care of you,” type stuff, but he kept pushing it. “She has a GOOD job [as a cashier at Menards]! She CAN take care of me and I WANT to live with her!”
“Well guess what!?” Please, readers, don’t hate me for this – I hate myself enough, “Your mom doesn’t even have a job anymore! She quit it so she could get money from the government!! She can’t take care of you with THAT!”
While it was true, it wasn’t a nice thing to say. The Man got a call from the Social Security office on Thursday telling him that Scari had filed a claim. They wanted his and the kids’ information to see if they were eligible for benefits.
“Is she disabled?” you might ask. Nope. No physical limitations whatsoever. She’s fucking crazy. She must have finally proved that she’s schizophrenic (she started trying two years ago as a means to get out of paying child support).
RANT ALERT: (feel free to skip this part) You know how much this pisses me off? I’m here working my ass off and WILL be until I’m old enough to retire. Every month, I pay out two hundred dollars toward Social Security – and it won’t even be around when I’m old enough to use it. My brother, who suffers from a degenerative retinal disease, lost his benefits because he “wasn’t blind enough.” But apparently, you can be fucking CRAZY enough!! Apparently, if you want to go fry out your brain on METH, you can just go right the fuck ahead because once it’s gone, the government will pay you to live in a Section 8 ghetto and buy your smokes. But, a BIG sorry goes out to the homeless children in the city – there just isn’t money to help you! Let’s not be selfish now, these people may have done it to themselves, BUT THEY ARE PEOPLE TOO! Who cares if they fucked themselves up? It’s up to US as a COMMUNITY to support them and love them and pay ALL THEIR FUCKING MEDICAL EXPENSES.
And my number one concern over all this: If she’s too loopy to hold a job, how is she capable of caring for children?
< / rant >
Okay, so after I spouted a little more evil out of my mouth, I dropped the kids off at daycare and called The Man bawling.
That night, she called and confirmed what Ninja Boy had told us. “When he’s twelve, he gets to PICK where he wants to be!” Yes, Moron, every child at the age of twelve gets to decide for themselves what kind of live they will have. Me? I moved into Disneyworld and ate Sno-Cones and funnel cakes all day!! Oh, wait, right – not in REALITY! Because in REALITY, a judge would NEVER say “So, you are TWELVE now, boy? Sure, your schizophrenic mom’s apartment in the ghetto is the PERFECT place for you to be! Wish GRANTED!”
I asked Sunshine that night if her mom ever said anything to her about living with her. “Yeah and I told her ‘No, I don’t want to.’” My sweet little baby – who always tries to make everyone feel loved. What pressure she must have felt being asked that. But I am SO proud of her for saying how she felt.
I know I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it. I know that it’s not a viable outcome. My problem is that we were finally GETTING ALONG. We were finally to a place where we were happy with our situation and then she had to push it. The pickup went fine that evening, except we forgot to send NB’s ADHD meds. So Saturday morning on our way out of town, we stopped to drop them off. NB came to the car and I said, “Where’s your mom?”
“She doesn’t want to come down.” He said. Whatever, I gave him the baggie with the two pills and said, “Take these right up to her.” And he went back to the playground. We sat in the car for a minute wondering what was going on before we pulled up alongside the playground. Scari was standing on her second floor balcony screaming “NOOOOOWWW!!!! BRING THEM TO ME NNNNOOOOOOOWWWW!!!” Trying to get NB to bring the pills up to her. We heard him yell, “I’ll be back later!” The Man got out of the car and went after him. Never in his life would that boy EVER blow off something I told him with such disrespect. And yet, his own mom who he wants to live with SOOO bad – doesn’t get a shred of respect from him.
Though we felt uneasy about it, we left for Wisconsin.
Sunday at five, I checked my phone and had a message from Scari saying the kids wanted to spend another night. I called her back and said, “No, we are already on our way there.”
When we got there, only NB, Scari and her boyfriend were outside. Scari brought his bag to the car and started bitching at The Man about how we are such assholes for not letting them spend the night and we should do what the kids want and it’s still the weekend and we’re fucking idiots. I very dryly said, “It’s Sunday at six, the weekend is over.” She got in my face and told me to “Shut the fuck up” because it was none of my business. It was between her and her ex-husband about HER kids.
I am an extremely reasonable and calm person until someone pushes my buttons. And that bitch had.
“So where have you been the past five years while I was working to raise them, bitch? Out getting fucking HIGH and screwing the neighborhood!”
To which her super-smart boyfriend replied, “Can’t someone make mistakes?”
No, you stupid fucker. You don’t get to desert your kids for FUCKING YEARS and call it a ‘mistake.’ There are no do-overs when it comes to raising kids.
So, anyway, NB refused to get it in the car. They refused to let him. She held him back screaming, “He doesn’t want to go, he fucking hates the bitch!” and telling him he could stay if he wanted. I finally called the police when they wouldn’t get Sunshine.
After I called, they were suddenly willing to cooperate and Sunshine came running to me. She was visibly upset – as anyone would imagine. I tried to comfort her and tell her that everyone was just very upset and saying mean things and it wasn’t their fault at all. But it should have never happened in the first place. They put NB in the car, trying to reassure him that they were taking us to court so that he could live with them.
We waited for the police and The Man talked to the officer telling him what happened and that we just needed a report made. NB was screaming in the backseat that he didn’t want to go home that he hated us and we hated him and we should just let him go.
I stopped him and said “I don’t care what you believe about anything else, but you’d better believe that we love you – we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t!”
Halfway home, he’d gone back to my regular Ninja Boy. Not the screaming, hate-spewing monster he’d been just a half-hour earlier.
That night, he asked me why his parents weren’t together anymore and I told him he’d better ask his dad. Up until now, the answer had always been, “they just didn’t get along.” But that wasn’t going to cut it anymore. We have no idea what she tells them when they are there. And for the first time, we felt our silence would end up hurting us rather than making us look like “the better person.” So TM explained, “Your mom found someone else she wanted to be with and left. When she finally came back, I let her take care of you. But then she started using drugs and wasn’t taking care of you guys. You had no electricity, you had no food and you had nobody to watch you. So you came to live with me and your mom went on with her life.” “Don’t you remember when your mom wasn’t around?” he asked them, “I almost lost my job because she wouldn’t help me watch you and I almost lost you when she finally did.”
And, even though I’d debated over it since we got back in the car, I asked NB, “Why do you hate me?”
“I NEVER said that!”
“Well, that really hurt my feelings when your mom said that. I love you and I do everything I can to give you a good life. It really hurt to hear someone say that you hate me.”
He snuggled up in my lap and pulled my arms tightly around him. And that was the end of it – until tomorrow, when she uses her “weekly visitation” night. I’m scared. I am. I’m not even afraid that she will get custody. I’m just scared about what this is going to do to our happy family. I’m scared what it’s going to do to the kids. I’m scared what it’s going to do to me. It’s going to be a long road – I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.
For anyone who made it through that – you deserve a medal! And for anyone who just scanned to the bottom, I totally understand and my regularly scheduled posts will resume tomorrow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Friday morning I was hit with a bomb. On our way out the door, I said, “I sure hope you get your toys off the living room floor before you go to your mom’s this weekend – I’d hate to see them ‘disappear.’” In response I got, “I’m going to go live with my mom,” from the Ninja Boy.
“No you aren’t.” I calmly replied.
“Yes I am. She said I could. When I’m twelve I get to pick who I’m going to live with and she can take care of me now.”
I was still a little shocked that he responded. I tried to put it simply, “No, she CAN’T take care of you,” type stuff, but he kept pushing it. “She has a GOOD job [as a cashier at Menards]! She CAN take care of me and I WANT to live with her!”
“Well guess what!?” Please, readers, don’t hate me for this – I hate myself enough, “Your mom doesn’t even have a job anymore! She quit it so she could get money from the government!! She can’t take care of you with THAT!”
While it was true, it wasn’t a nice thing to say. The Man got a call from the Social Security office on Thursday telling him that Scari had filed a claim. They wanted his and the kids’ information to see if they were eligible for benefits.
“Is she disabled?” you might ask. Nope. No physical limitations whatsoever. She’s fucking crazy. She must have finally proved that she’s schizophrenic (she started trying two years ago as a means to get out of paying child support).
RANT ALERT: (feel free to skip this part) You know how much this pisses me off? I’m here working my ass off and WILL be until I’m old enough to retire. Every month, I pay out two hundred dollars toward Social Security – and it won’t even be around when I’m old enough to use it. My brother, who suffers from a degenerative retinal disease, lost his benefits because he “wasn’t blind enough.” But apparently, you can be fucking CRAZY enough!! Apparently, if you want to go fry out your brain on METH, you can just go right the fuck ahead because once it’s gone, the government will pay you to live in a Section 8 ghetto and buy your smokes. But, a BIG sorry goes out to the homeless children in the city – there just isn’t money to help you! Let’s not be selfish now, these people may have done it to themselves, BUT THEY ARE PEOPLE TOO! Who cares if they fucked themselves up? It’s up to US as a COMMUNITY to support them and love them and pay ALL THEIR FUCKING MEDICAL EXPENSES.
And my number one concern over all this: If she’s too loopy to hold a job, how is she capable of caring for children?
< / rant >
Okay, so after I spouted a little more evil out of my mouth, I dropped the kids off at daycare and called The Man bawling.
That night, she called and confirmed what Ninja Boy had told us. “When he’s twelve, he gets to PICK where he wants to be!” Yes, Moron, every child at the age of twelve gets to decide for themselves what kind of live they will have. Me? I moved into Disneyworld and ate Sno-Cones and funnel cakes all day!! Oh, wait, right – not in REALITY! Because in REALITY, a judge would NEVER say “So, you are TWELVE now, boy? Sure, your schizophrenic mom’s apartment in the ghetto is the PERFECT place for you to be! Wish GRANTED!”
I asked Sunshine that night if her mom ever said anything to her about living with her. “Yeah and I told her ‘No, I don’t want to.’” My sweet little baby – who always tries to make everyone feel loved. What pressure she must have felt being asked that. But I am SO proud of her for saying how she felt.
I know I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it. I know that it’s not a viable outcome. My problem is that we were finally GETTING ALONG. We were finally to a place where we were happy with our situation and then she had to push it. The pickup went fine that evening, except we forgot to send NB’s ADHD meds. So Saturday morning on our way out of town, we stopped to drop them off. NB came to the car and I said, “Where’s your mom?”
“She doesn’t want to come down.” He said. Whatever, I gave him the baggie with the two pills and said, “Take these right up to her.” And he went back to the playground. We sat in the car for a minute wondering what was going on before we pulled up alongside the playground. Scari was standing on her second floor balcony screaming “NOOOOOWWW!!!! BRING THEM TO ME NNNNOOOOOOOWWWW!!!” Trying to get NB to bring the pills up to her. We heard him yell, “I’ll be back later!” The Man got out of the car and went after him. Never in his life would that boy EVER blow off something I told him with such disrespect. And yet, his own mom who he wants to live with SOOO bad – doesn’t get a shred of respect from him.
Though we felt uneasy about it, we left for Wisconsin.
Sunday at five, I checked my phone and had a message from Scari saying the kids wanted to spend another night. I called her back and said, “No, we are already on our way there.”
When we got there, only NB, Scari and her boyfriend were outside. Scari brought his bag to the car and started bitching at The Man about how we are such assholes for not letting them spend the night and we should do what the kids want and it’s still the weekend and we’re fucking idiots. I very dryly said, “It’s Sunday at six, the weekend is over.” She got in my face and told me to “Shut the fuck up” because it was none of my business. It was between her and her ex-husband about HER kids.
I am an extremely reasonable and calm person until someone pushes my buttons. And that bitch had.
“So where have you been the past five years while I was working to raise them, bitch? Out getting fucking HIGH and screwing the neighborhood!”
To which her super-smart boyfriend replied, “Can’t someone make mistakes?”
No, you stupid fucker. You don’t get to desert your kids for FUCKING YEARS and call it a ‘mistake.’ There are no do-overs when it comes to raising kids.
So, anyway, NB refused to get it in the car. They refused to let him. She held him back screaming, “He doesn’t want to go, he fucking hates the bitch!” and telling him he could stay if he wanted. I finally called the police when they wouldn’t get Sunshine.
After I called, they were suddenly willing to cooperate and Sunshine came running to me. She was visibly upset – as anyone would imagine. I tried to comfort her and tell her that everyone was just very upset and saying mean things and it wasn’t their fault at all. But it should have never happened in the first place. They put NB in the car, trying to reassure him that they were taking us to court so that he could live with them.
We waited for the police and The Man talked to the officer telling him what happened and that we just needed a report made. NB was screaming in the backseat that he didn’t want to go home that he hated us and we hated him and we should just let him go.
I stopped him and said “I don’t care what you believe about anything else, but you’d better believe that we love you – we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t!”
Halfway home, he’d gone back to my regular Ninja Boy. Not the screaming, hate-spewing monster he’d been just a half-hour earlier.
That night, he asked me why his parents weren’t together anymore and I told him he’d better ask his dad. Up until now, the answer had always been, “they just didn’t get along.” But that wasn’t going to cut it anymore. We have no idea what she tells them when they are there. And for the first time, we felt our silence would end up hurting us rather than making us look like “the better person.” So TM explained, “Your mom found someone else she wanted to be with and left. When she finally came back, I let her take care of you. But then she started using drugs and wasn’t taking care of you guys. You had no electricity, you had no food and you had nobody to watch you. So you came to live with me and your mom went on with her life.” “Don’t you remember when your mom wasn’t around?” he asked them, “I almost lost my job because she wouldn’t help me watch you and I almost lost you when she finally did.”
And, even though I’d debated over it since we got back in the car, I asked NB, “Why do you hate me?”
“I NEVER said that!”
“Well, that really hurt my feelings when your mom said that. I love you and I do everything I can to give you a good life. It really hurt to hear someone say that you hate me.”
He snuggled up in my lap and pulled my arms tightly around him. And that was the end of it – until tomorrow, when she uses her “weekly visitation” night. I’m scared. I am. I’m not even afraid that she will get custody. I’m just scared about what this is going to do to our happy family. I’m scared what it’s going to do to the kids. I’m scared what it’s going to do to me. It’s going to be a long road – I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.
For anyone who made it through that – you deserve a medal! And for anyone who just scanned to the bottom, I totally understand and my regularly scheduled posts will resume tomorrow.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Skewl Sux
I don’t remember my mom ever meeting any of my teachers in high school. I don’t think she ever went to a conference, ever asked if I had homework, I don’t think she even knew what classes I was in.
In her defense, she had two small children at home. I was a smart girl, I received mostly A’s in middle school and the beginning of ninth grade – why should she have been worried?
She should have worried because I was way too young to be my own cheerleader. I was way to naïve to understand that I should have cared about my education. My grandpa was the only person who ever pushed the importance of education on me – but by then it seemed to me that he had me mistaken for someone else. Someone with “potential.” In all actuality, there was no money for me to go to school. Everyone knew it, so nobody pushed the issue.
In the tenth grade, I came out of my shell a bit and started meeting new people. People who didn’t get A’s. People who didn’t even go to school much. In fact, my boyfriend had dropped out a couple years before. He would pick up my brother and me and we’d go get high before he dropped us off at school. Then I would head to first hour – Psychology – a class that I was really excited for when I’d signed up for it in 9th grade. And there, I would sleep off my high. It was no surprise when I failed that class. It wasn’t a surprise when I failed health, either. After all, it was during third hour – that was lunch hour. Who wants to learn about STD’s when you can hang out with your friends for 85 minutes?
My high school years got progressively worse. I was constantly in In-School-Suspension for skipping and for getting caught coming in from cigarette breaks. I was flunking out of classes that should have been easy for me.
And nobody ever said anything to me. Nobody said, “Amy, how did you go from all A’s to just ONE?? Why aren’t you passing these classes?” Had someone stepped in when it started getting bad, maybe I would have changed my ways. Maybe I would have quit using drugs. Maybe my life would have taken a different direction. Maybe.
Halfway through my senior year, I decided I’d had enough. I was living with my friend PM – working almost full time for $5.75/hr trying to pay my rent and car insurance. My dean was really great to me through it all. She let me call myself in sick – she expected me to make good decisions. After all, she was one of my 9th grade teachers – she knew I was smart and capable. When she told me that I would be a credit short of graduating, I decided to just quit.
PM convinced me that if we went to an alternative school, we’d only have to go three hours a day and we’d be able to work ahead to graduate on time. It seemed like a smart idea at the time.
When we told our dean, she never said a word to PM, she was pregnant and the deans tried to usher the pregnant girls out the door as soon as they could. She looked at ME and said, “Don’t do this, Amy. You don’t have to do this! There’s only half a year left – you can walk with your class and take a summer class, you can take night classes, and everything will be okay.”
But I did it anyway. Like fucking fools, we walked from class to class with our yellow discharge slips collecting our things. I’m so embarrassed when I look back at that now. How could I think I was ‘so cool’ because I was dropping out????
When we started at the alternative school a week later, I realized I had made a mistake. These kids were fuck-ups. And a lot of them were just plain stupid. Our homework was to read articles – any kind! – then write a paragraph about them. All of the work was this lame and un-educational. We got a point for each and once you had enough points, you were done with school.
One would think that with it being so easy, I just breezed through it. But I didn’t. I felt like I was insulting my intelligence every time I walked through the door. It wasn’t long before I was ditching out early to get to Burger King before they stopped serving breakfast. Not much longer after that, they asked me to stop coming so they could use the space for someone who wanted to be there.
PM ended up graduating with the class. It seems the hours she spent in front of the TV blurbing articles from the paper really paid off for her.
I ended up trying online school and another alternative school (twice!) before I earned my diploma two years late.
Everyone asks themselves at one point or another, “If I could change _____, would I?” There aren’t a lot of things I’d say “yes” to. My experiences have made me who I am. They led me to have the family I have today. I could never willingly give that up. But staying in school is the one thing I would change. Dropping out is the number one regret I have in life. Because I will never know where life would have taken me had I given myself those opportunities.
This all comes to mind because of the troubles we are having with Ninja Boy. He is at an age where he really controls what he’d like to. If he doesn’t want to bring his homework home, he doesn’t have to. And we’re none-the-wiser.
I have pleaded, fought and screamed. I talk to his teachers via phone and email whenever I can. We’ve developed several plans to avoid the excuses – but no matter what we do, he finds a way out of it. “Forgetting” papers, a mysteriously destroyed assignment books, anything he can to get out of doing his homework.
As we are struggling through this, the only thing in my head is “Don’t give up on him.” As frustrated as I get with the whole situation, I know that if we just give up, his education won’t mean anything to him. I know from my own personal experience how important it is to have someone CARE about what you are doing. And how easy it is to give it all up when you realize that no one does.
What was your education experience like? Were you an ignored slacker or did your parents try to prep you for Ivy League? If you have kids, how do you keep them interested in school/learning?
**The title makes me laugh so hard – some girl left that comment on my little brother’s Bebo page one day. And these children are who will be running our country in twenty years – sorry – our “cntry.”
In her defense, she had two small children at home. I was a smart girl, I received mostly A’s in middle school and the beginning of ninth grade – why should she have been worried?
She should have worried because I was way too young to be my own cheerleader. I was way to naïve to understand that I should have cared about my education. My grandpa was the only person who ever pushed the importance of education on me – but by then it seemed to me that he had me mistaken for someone else. Someone with “potential.” In all actuality, there was no money for me to go to school. Everyone knew it, so nobody pushed the issue.
In the tenth grade, I came out of my shell a bit and started meeting new people. People who didn’t get A’s. People who didn’t even go to school much. In fact, my boyfriend had dropped out a couple years before. He would pick up my brother and me and we’d go get high before he dropped us off at school. Then I would head to first hour – Psychology – a class that I was really excited for when I’d signed up for it in 9th grade. And there, I would sleep off my high. It was no surprise when I failed that class. It wasn’t a surprise when I failed health, either. After all, it was during third hour – that was lunch hour. Who wants to learn about STD’s when you can hang out with your friends for 85 minutes?
My high school years got progressively worse. I was constantly in In-School-Suspension for skipping and for getting caught coming in from cigarette breaks. I was flunking out of classes that should have been easy for me.
And nobody ever said anything to me. Nobody said, “Amy, how did you go from all A’s to just ONE?? Why aren’t you passing these classes?” Had someone stepped in when it started getting bad, maybe I would have changed my ways. Maybe I would have quit using drugs. Maybe my life would have taken a different direction. Maybe.
Halfway through my senior year, I decided I’d had enough. I was living with my friend PM – working almost full time for $5.75/hr trying to pay my rent and car insurance. My dean was really great to me through it all. She let me call myself in sick – she expected me to make good decisions. After all, she was one of my 9th grade teachers – she knew I was smart and capable. When she told me that I would be a credit short of graduating, I decided to just quit.
PM convinced me that if we went to an alternative school, we’d only have to go three hours a day and we’d be able to work ahead to graduate on time. It seemed like a smart idea at the time.
When we told our dean, she never said a word to PM, she was pregnant and the deans tried to usher the pregnant girls out the door as soon as they could. She looked at ME and said, “Don’t do this, Amy. You don’t have to do this! There’s only half a year left – you can walk with your class and take a summer class, you can take night classes, and everything will be okay.”
But I did it anyway. Like fucking fools, we walked from class to class with our yellow discharge slips collecting our things. I’m so embarrassed when I look back at that now. How could I think I was ‘so cool’ because I was dropping out????
When we started at the alternative school a week later, I realized I had made a mistake. These kids were fuck-ups. And a lot of them were just plain stupid. Our homework was to read articles – any kind! – then write a paragraph about them. All of the work was this lame and un-educational. We got a point for each and once you had enough points, you were done with school.
One would think that with it being so easy, I just breezed through it. But I didn’t. I felt like I was insulting my intelligence every time I walked through the door. It wasn’t long before I was ditching out early to get to Burger King before they stopped serving breakfast. Not much longer after that, they asked me to stop coming so they could use the space for someone who wanted to be there.
PM ended up graduating with the class. It seems the hours she spent in front of the TV blurbing articles from the paper really paid off for her.
I ended up trying online school and another alternative school (twice!) before I earned my diploma two years late.
Everyone asks themselves at one point or another, “If I could change _____, would I?” There aren’t a lot of things I’d say “yes” to. My experiences have made me who I am. They led me to have the family I have today. I could never willingly give that up. But staying in school is the one thing I would change. Dropping out is the number one regret I have in life. Because I will never know where life would have taken me had I given myself those opportunities.
This all comes to mind because of the troubles we are having with Ninja Boy. He is at an age where he really controls what he’d like to. If he doesn’t want to bring his homework home, he doesn’t have to. And we’re none-the-wiser.
I have pleaded, fought and screamed. I talk to his teachers via phone and email whenever I can. We’ve developed several plans to avoid the excuses – but no matter what we do, he finds a way out of it. “Forgetting” papers, a mysteriously destroyed assignment books, anything he can to get out of doing his homework.
As we are struggling through this, the only thing in my head is “Don’t give up on him.” As frustrated as I get with the whole situation, I know that if we just give up, his education won’t mean anything to him. I know from my own personal experience how important it is to have someone CARE about what you are doing. And how easy it is to give it all up when you realize that no one does.
What was your education experience like? Were you an ignored slacker or did your parents try to prep you for Ivy League? If you have kids, how do you keep them interested in school/learning?
**The title makes me laugh so hard – some girl left that comment on my little brother’s Bebo page one day. And these children are who will be running our country in twenty years – sorry – our “cntry.”
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Small Change April/Green Challenge #2
I’d completely forgotten about this month’s Small Change! Aside from donating a few bucks to my co-walkers’ WalkAmerica accounts, I haven’t done much of anything. But I have a lot of stuff in the works, so I’ll have more to ‘report’ later.
It's Spring Cleaning time! Check out Beth’s Small Change Challenge for April. It’s a great (easy) one, because I was doing it anyway! It’s that time of year, you know!
You can also check out the banner on my sidebar for Susie Flynn. She’s 10 years old and running for President in 2008 to bring awareness to kids without health coverage. Check out her website, sign the petition if you’d like. It’s great to see kids getting so involved!
It's Spring Cleaning time! Check out Beth’s Small Change Challenge for April. It’s a great (easy) one, because I was doing it anyway! It’s that time of year, you know!
You can also check out the banner on my sidebar for Susie Flynn. She’s 10 years old and running for President in 2008 to bring awareness to kids without health coverage. Check out her website, sign the petition if you’d like. It’s great to see kids getting so involved!
This week’s Green Challenge is to enter your zip code into the Earth 911 box at the bottom of the page. This will show you all the registered recycling centers in your area. You will be surprised to learn how many of things you use every day that are recyclable.
I need to recycle a LOT of used motor oil and a few old filters and this search found me several places near my house.
I need to recycle a LOT of used motor oil and a few old filters and this search found me several places near my house.
The Coolest Thing In The World (to me) (right now): It found me a place that recycles those nasty #5 and #7 plastics! I’m going to talk to my step-dad (who saves EVERYTHING) and tell him about it. It’s about a half hour north of us, so I figure we can save up and make trips every once in a while. It sounds ridiculous, but this relieves me of a large burden on my soul. I buy a lot of things that come in containers made from these plastics. I don’t LIKE using Cool-Whip and butter containers as food storage, I don’t like saving them, but I really don’t like throwing them away.
So, there you go…enter your zip, take a look, see if you can’t learn something. There are no pop-ups or cookies attached, promise!
So, there you go…enter your zip, take a look, see if you can’t learn something. There are no pop-ups or cookies attached, promise!
Also, I have to share this:
Last night I was making dinner (*Gasp, choke, WHA??* - I know!) and Sunshine came home from riding her bike with friends. She was talking about ‘So-and-so was doing this’ and the like. Then she says, “Well, you know Taylor is the bitchiest one!”
My jaw DROPPED. “What is Taylor?”
“The bitchiest one.”
“Ummm, that’s not a word you should be using. Who taught you that?”
“Oh, right, I forgot. Taylor did.”
“Well, that’s not appropriate language. I think if Taylor is a mean girl and talks like that, she probably isn’t going to make a good friend for you.”
“Yeah, cuz she’s the … meanest one.”
It’s begun…
My jaw DROPPED. “What is Taylor?”
“The bitchiest one.”
“Ummm, that’s not a word you should be using. Who taught you that?”
“Oh, right, I forgot. Taylor did.”
“Well, that’s not appropriate language. I think if Taylor is a mean girl and talks like that, she probably isn’t going to make a good friend for you.”
“Yeah, cuz she’s the … meanest one.”
It’s begun…
Oh, and also...WTF???
Monday, January 15, 2007
Goodbye, Blackie
Friday night I woke to the kids standing in my doorway, crying for us to wake up. It was pitch black still – 2:45 a.m. As my eyes adjusted I saw that Ninja Boy was holding something in his gloved hands (glow-in-the-dark, no less!). He was crying, saying “Something’s wrong with Blackie!”
All I could get into my brain was that it was 2:45 a.m. and the children were awake – in my room. By the time I realized that a rodent fit into that equation, The Man was already up and on his way downstairs.
He came back with the news that something horrible had happened to two and a half of our gerbil’s legs and he died. He didn’t offer any more information and I quit asking.
The next morning the kids woke and remembered what had gone on the night before. I was still hung up on the fact that they were awake at that time.
Ninja Boy said he woke up and could only hear the clock ticking, so he was worried about the gerbils. I still find that hard to believe, but I’d rather believe that than some of the other things I came up with. That wheel is a pretty incessant sound in our house – or was.
I tried my best to grief counsel the kids. The problem is that they SAW him...gnawed legs and all (I want to throw up just thinking about it!). I, thankfully, didn’t see it.
They were pretty mad at the other gerbil, Princess, thinking she attacked him. I don’t think she’s guilty. I did a lot of internet searching this weekend and found it is common for stuff like this to happen to baby gerbils – when the mother feels inferior to or incapable of caring for them. Blackie and Princess came from the same Petco aquarium. They had lived in the same cage together for just over a year. From everything that I’ve read, this kind of thing doesn’t just happen.
Blackie was the ‘tortured soul’ of the pair. Princess was always friendly while Blackie was skittish. We also nursed Blackie back to health not too long ago from some kind of illness we couldn’t diagnose – but one of his legs was affected by it.
My theory: He mutilated himself.
Gross, sure. How else do you explain this??
Princess has been standing in the bare part of her cage - just standing, shaking. It won’t be long before she freezes to death herself. They are supposed to burrow into the bedding to keep warm when they sleep, but she won’t move. She misses her sister. (Yes, Blackie was actually a girl – I didn’t need any babies and it’s super easy to lie about their sex.)
I would love to give her another companion so she isn’t scared and lonely. The thing is that I didn’t care for the gerbils. We went to Petco that day to get the kids FISH. How we ended up with rodents is something I don’t remember well. $150 dollars and three months later and the only time the kids wanted to show them any attention was when they had friends over. Then, they would put them in cardboard boxes and stow them in their rooms (yes, cardboard!). Or make them play in the Barbie house. Cleaning the cage was a nightmare. We tried to have the kids do most of it, but it resulted in the gerbil mess reaching even further than the family room. We ended up ‘reclaiming’ the gerbils as OUR pets – meaning it was solely up to The Man to clean the cage and the kids weren’t allowed to touch them (or squeeze them to near death trying to make them lie down in Barbie’s bed).
I’ve been inactively trying to find them a new home since. We are only home for about three hours a day and it was a plain mistake to think the kids could fit such a time-consuming pet into their schedules. Fish, on the other hand…
So, now I’m left with trying to find a new home for ONE gerbil. I don’t think she’ll make it long enough to put an ad in the paper. Craigslist doesn’t accept animals. I’m at a loss. My mom suggested that I call the school and see if any teachers would like a classroom pet. Do they still do that?? I really need help!
In the meantime, let’s have a moment of silence for the dearly departed…
All I could get into my brain was that it was 2:45 a.m. and the children were awake – in my room. By the time I realized that a rodent fit into that equation, The Man was already up and on his way downstairs.
He came back with the news that something horrible had happened to two and a half of our gerbil’s legs and he died. He didn’t offer any more information and I quit asking.
The next morning the kids woke and remembered what had gone on the night before. I was still hung up on the fact that they were awake at that time.
Ninja Boy said he woke up and could only hear the clock ticking, so he was worried about the gerbils. I still find that hard to believe, but I’d rather believe that than some of the other things I came up with. That wheel is a pretty incessant sound in our house – or was.
I tried my best to grief counsel the kids. The problem is that they SAW him...gnawed legs and all (I want to throw up just thinking about it!). I, thankfully, didn’t see it.
They were pretty mad at the other gerbil, Princess, thinking she attacked him. I don’t think she’s guilty. I did a lot of internet searching this weekend and found it is common for stuff like this to happen to baby gerbils – when the mother feels inferior to or incapable of caring for them. Blackie and Princess came from the same Petco aquarium. They had lived in the same cage together for just over a year. From everything that I’ve read, this kind of thing doesn’t just happen.
Blackie was the ‘tortured soul’ of the pair. Princess was always friendly while Blackie was skittish. We also nursed Blackie back to health not too long ago from some kind of illness we couldn’t diagnose – but one of his legs was affected by it.
My theory: He mutilated himself.
Gross, sure. How else do you explain this??
Princess has been standing in the bare part of her cage - just standing, shaking. It won’t be long before she freezes to death herself. They are supposed to burrow into the bedding to keep warm when they sleep, but she won’t move. She misses her sister. (Yes, Blackie was actually a girl – I didn’t need any babies and it’s super easy to lie about their sex.)
I would love to give her another companion so she isn’t scared and lonely. The thing is that I didn’t care for the gerbils. We went to Petco that day to get the kids FISH. How we ended up with rodents is something I don’t remember well. $150 dollars and three months later and the only time the kids wanted to show them any attention was when they had friends over. Then, they would put them in cardboard boxes and stow them in their rooms (yes, cardboard!). Or make them play in the Barbie house. Cleaning the cage was a nightmare. We tried to have the kids do most of it, but it resulted in the gerbil mess reaching even further than the family room. We ended up ‘reclaiming’ the gerbils as OUR pets – meaning it was solely up to The Man to clean the cage and the kids weren’t allowed to touch them (or squeeze them to near death trying to make them lie down in Barbie’s bed).
I’ve been inactively trying to find them a new home since. We are only home for about three hours a day and it was a plain mistake to think the kids could fit such a time-consuming pet into their schedules. Fish, on the other hand…
So, now I’m left with trying to find a new home for ONE gerbil. I don’t think she’ll make it long enough to put an ad in the paper. Craigslist doesn’t accept animals. I’m at a loss. My mom suggested that I call the school and see if any teachers would like a classroom pet. Do they still do that?? I really need help!
In the meantime, let’s have a moment of silence for the dearly departed…
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