Dear Netflix,
I owe you a sincere apology. When you were going through some shipping and billing issues, I did not give you a chance to straighten them out, and I allowed our wonderful, fulfilling relationship of two years to fall by the wayside without giving you a second chance. You can't know how terrible I feel about this, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
I also have a confession to make: during the last month of our separation, I cheated on you. I bought into the hype and the supposed benefits (and the additional 1000 points I got from MyPoints was also a huge influence, I am sad to say) and actually **gasp**signed up for Blockbuster. In my defense, and I will admit it is a shabby defense at best, I really and truly believed that Blockbuster had my best interests at heart. The services offered were almost exactly the same as yours, and the price was actually better. In front of God and everybody, I will admit now that I am a whore; I was in the relationship for the money. I mean, a $5 savings is a $5 savings, right?
Wrong. I was so, so wrong, and am paying dearly for my fickle taste and my unwillingness to shell out money. You see, from the very beginning, Blockbuster treated me poorly. Within minutes of signing up for my "free" trial, they had put a hold on my debit card for $19.99. This was okay, really, I understand that they wanted to make sure I had the money prior to putting out for me. I get that. You did the same thing when I first signed up for your free trial two years ago, using the very same debit card. Then, it took them very nearly a week to get my movies shipped out to me. Again, I gave them the benefit of the doubt by thinking that perhaps once everything got processed, it would all go much more smoothly. Not so, Netflix, not so. During this "free" trial, I was only able to get two movie shipments; this, despite the fact that the nearest shipping facility is is Salt Lake, which gets mail from here overnight. You, on the other hand, are the exact same distance from me going west as they are going east, and you have a three-day-turnaround.
The last straw occurred yesterday, when I received an email from Blockbuster informing me that my payment had been declined. Even though they had already put on hold the amount at the beginning of the free trial. I emailed Customer Service and explained that they already had a hold on the money, and they should just, you know, use it. The person who replied to me carried the very dubious title of Customer Service Representative, and I say dubious because I really believe the only thing this person I will call P. is capable of servicing would be the neighbor's dog. Just saying. To make a very long story short, I got a lecture about how my debit card works (because, you know, I haven't been using it very long, just two years. I might not really know how it works), and how even though my account summary says they have the amount on hold, they really don't. Apparently, dear Netflix, I have also somehow forgotten how to read a financial statement. Ultimately, P. told me that he can't help me, and he will just cancel my account on my behalf. Since, you know, I wasn't willing to pay AGAIN. And I'll be damned, I am not getting my money back! Since according to THEIR records, they never put a hold on my account for the $19.99. I did offer to fax old P. a copy of MY billing statement, which shows the amount of the hold, the date it was put into place, and even the terminal number from which the transaction was generated. P. said no thanks, they would just go by their records.
So once again, my desire to save a buck and perhaps get better services has backfired, and not only am I out the $19.99 (believe me, though, I am not done with Blockbuster yet; they have no idea just how squeaky this wheel can get!), but I no longer have a movie service. I am asking you , begging you now, if you can please forgive me and just let me come back. I promise to remain faithful to you this time, and not allow some petty little shipping issue come between us. I promise to spread word of your rapid turnaround, your excellent Customer Service, the vast array of choices available, and the variety of payment plans if you will just please allow me to be one of your customers again. The only problem is that I have to wait until Blockbuster coughs up my dough OR I get paid again so I can load more money onto my card. If you can be patient with me just one more week, I will gladly leap back into your arms and never leave you again.
Sincerely, adoringly, and penitently yours,
Kori
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Save Money, Live Better My Ass!
I did something last night that I vowed not to do, something that I have studiously avoided doing for months and months and months. Something I actually haven't done in better than a year, if not longer. And even though I was in a position of having no other options, even though I was forced into doing this thing due to circumstances beyond my control, it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Yep, I went to Wal-Mart. Believe me, I really tried not to. We had to do some more school shopping, so we went to a discount store called Value's first, where we were able to get the rest of their notebooks (they have a particular notebook made of recycled paper that both Eli and I are fond of, which is why we went there in the first place), a binder, pens and pencils, as well as laundry soap and shampoo and a couple of other things we needed. Just slightly over $40-not bad, not bad at all. I was specifically looking for training pants for Owen, but despite the wide variety of baby items, they did not carry those. Still, we were ahead of the game. We then went to JC Penney to look at socks and undies. There were no good sales going on so we opted not to get them there, and they didn't have training pants there, either. We had to go get shoes anyway, so I thought we could just pick up socks at Payless as well. We did good there, too, getting all four kids a pair of shoes for $73; however, socks were really expensive there as well-I cannot justify spending $10 for three pairs of socks. Please. We went to one other store looking for socks and training pants and underwear, a new one that just opened, but it was a higher-end store carrying Polo and Calvin Klein stuff-no thanks. That left Wal-Mart.
I won't quibble about the prices for the socks and underwear for the big kids; they were about an average price, I suppose, and at least they were Hanes. I love me some Hanes 100% cotton socks, for ALL the kids. None of these cheap nylon spandex cotton blend crap, because they tend to exacerbate stinky feet and toe rot. Just saying. Plus, we hadn't had any luck finding any less expensive ones anywhere else, so whatever. But the training pants? Holy God, those fuckers were pricey. $7.00 for three pairs. Which is not enough for a day, so I had to buy two packages and resign myself to washing more times a day. Also, those vinyl pants to cover them up? $8.00, though at least they came in a package of six. I had ONE option to choose from, and they weren't even the ones I was hoping to find. Still, he needs them, and it isn't as if there are a ton of other options in this area.
So the whole training pants thing set me off, and I spent the rest of the time in Wal-Mart muttering things like, "Save money, live better my ASS, this is a total racket!" And it IS. I swear, each store must have a minion or two going to all the other stores in the area and finding the things that they DON'T carry; then they trudge over to Management,who says "Okay, none of the stores in our area sell training pants, so let's find the cheapest retail price on ONE brand and jack them up; people will pay for them because they have no choice!" And the bitch of it is that it is true. My poor kids; though they well know how I feel and are beginning to succumb to my constant brainwashing (yay for me!), I don't imagine it is very much fun to walk around with me muttering like a mad woman; I think at one point I referred to it as a modern day sweatshop.
And let me ask, WHY are there no other options here? Because of Wal-Mart; we used to have a K-Mart here, and even though they are questionable and went through the whole bankruptcy and closing down scads of stores thing, they were still better than Wal-Mart; it gave us options. However, when Wal-Mart decided to go Super-Center instead of Regular, K-Mart got forced out. In addition to K-Mart closing, we have also had two grocery stores close (and even Albertson's is failing; rumor has it that they might make it another year), our small mall has only two stores left...and up until Wal-Mart expanded, these were thriving small businesses. I am all for free enterprise and all that good shit; it's all about the money, and I am not stupid-I know that's how the world works. However, there is a huge difference between making a healthy profit and raping the customers, and Wal-Mart seems to have the ass-fucking down to a science.
You take a small area like this and promise some 200 jobs; of course we are going to show up at the planning and zoning meetings and say "Hell yeah, that sounds great! We need jobs!" We DO need jobs; however, where is the ability to think it through and see that 200 part-time, minimum-wage, no benefits jobs isn't really going to make a dent in our already lagging economy? Still, the vote got passed by a healthy margin, and the Super-Center arrived. We had the jobs, for a little while people were happy-I mean, really, a one-stop-shopping center? That basically caters to the working individual without a lot of money to spare? Great quality, cheap prices, how could there be a problem?
But then the other stores started closing, and call me a conspiracy theorist if you want, but this is exactly what Wal-Mart intended. Lower the prices until they have effectively shut down any competitor, wait until people get used to shopping for everything there, and then jack the prices up-we have nowhere else to go. Lower the quality at the same time so that things fall apart more quickly, thus ensuring that we have to go back. I also think they have been sitting back in the wings rubbing their hands with glee as the gas prices have risen; that is just one more way to force us to shop there.
I am not EVEN going to start on their poor business practices, and how they do a lot of things that are legal but are totally unethical. That would take me days to fully articulate, and even then I wouldn't be able to truly convey how much I hate this corporation and everything they stand for. Instead, I will say this: that if I, the single mother of four kids, can afford to shop elsewhere in order to avoid Wal-Mart, anyone can. I have learned that while I might pay more at, say, Penney's (which is actually my new favorite store, with Target running a close second), the quality far exceeds the price, and I end up spending less in the long run. Clothes from Penney's and Target get too small-they don't wear out or rip at the seams, therefore I don't have to replace them nearly as often. Sears has the guarantee on kids clothes that if they wear out-including the knees!-before the kid outgrows them, they will replace them at no cost to you, the consumer. This is well worth it when you have growing boys who are rough on clothes just by putting them on. Old Navy, while not as of good a quality as they used to be, is still a reasonable place to shop. While I DO have the problem of living in a rural area with only one of the above stores nearby, I try to wait until we need several items and drive 40 miles to go to a different store-the money I save in the long run by far pays for my gas. I shop at the grocery store in town here, and even though some of the prices may be slightly higher, I get the added benefit of receiving points for every dollar I spend-redeemable for coupons or gift cards or merchandise. This paid for my kids' clothes from Old Navy for the vacation, and last year paid for better than half of their Christmas presents-so again in the long run, I am saving money.
I just wish more people had a social conscience; yes, money is tight for everyone, but I am a firm believer in you get what you pay for; if you buy in a place that sells shit, I am pretty sure you are just going to go home with a bag full of shit. I might have had to go there the once, but you can guarantee that I am SO going online to find the goddamned training pants elsewhere. I wish that more people would stop and think about the negative effects that Wal-Mart has not just on little town, but in many, many others. I wish that people would take a stand and say "Hey, asshole, we are NOT going to shop or work here because we don't support what you stand for!" The people I met from Canada over the summer, Mark and Iris, were telling me that Wal-Mart overrode all public outcry and somehow managed to get a permit to build in their town (can anyone say "bribe?" I bet the chairman of the Planning and Zoning Commission, or whatever the Canadian equivalent is, has a nice little nest egg now!), and the store got built all right-but now they can't find anyone to WORK their. They said, "No thanks, we don't want to work for you because you suck." Last I heard, they still hadn't opened-and I say yay! Too bad more people don't have the same mindset-I think we would see a lot of changes.
Now that I am done ranting about this for a minute, I think I need to go brush my teeth; the bitter taste is back in my mouth, and I am disgusted with myself all over again.
Yep, I went to Wal-Mart. Believe me, I really tried not to. We had to do some more school shopping, so we went to a discount store called Value's first, where we were able to get the rest of their notebooks (they have a particular notebook made of recycled paper that both Eli and I are fond of, which is why we went there in the first place), a binder, pens and pencils, as well as laundry soap and shampoo and a couple of other things we needed. Just slightly over $40-not bad, not bad at all. I was specifically looking for training pants for Owen, but despite the wide variety of baby items, they did not carry those. Still, we were ahead of the game. We then went to JC Penney to look at socks and undies. There were no good sales going on so we opted not to get them there, and they didn't have training pants there, either. We had to go get shoes anyway, so I thought we could just pick up socks at Payless as well. We did good there, too, getting all four kids a pair of shoes for $73; however, socks were really expensive there as well-I cannot justify spending $10 for three pairs of socks. Please. We went to one other store looking for socks and training pants and underwear, a new one that just opened, but it was a higher-end store carrying Polo and Calvin Klein stuff-no thanks. That left Wal-Mart.
I won't quibble about the prices for the socks and underwear for the big kids; they were about an average price, I suppose, and at least they were Hanes. I love me some Hanes 100% cotton socks, for ALL the kids. None of these cheap nylon spandex cotton blend crap, because they tend to exacerbate stinky feet and toe rot. Just saying. Plus, we hadn't had any luck finding any less expensive ones anywhere else, so whatever. But the training pants? Holy God, those fuckers were pricey. $7.00 for three pairs. Which is not enough for a day, so I had to buy two packages and resign myself to washing more times a day. Also, those vinyl pants to cover them up? $8.00, though at least they came in a package of six. I had ONE option to choose from, and they weren't even the ones I was hoping to find. Still, he needs them, and it isn't as if there are a ton of other options in this area.
So the whole training pants thing set me off, and I spent the rest of the time in Wal-Mart muttering things like, "Save money, live better my ASS, this is a total racket!" And it IS. I swear, each store must have a minion or two going to all the other stores in the area and finding the things that they DON'T carry; then they trudge over to Management,who says "Okay, none of the stores in our area sell training pants, so let's find the cheapest retail price on ONE brand and jack them up; people will pay for them because they have no choice!" And the bitch of it is that it is true. My poor kids; though they well know how I feel and are beginning to succumb to my constant brainwashing (yay for me!), I don't imagine it is very much fun to walk around with me muttering like a mad woman; I think at one point I referred to it as a modern day sweatshop.
And let me ask, WHY are there no other options here? Because of Wal-Mart; we used to have a K-Mart here, and even though they are questionable and went through the whole bankruptcy and closing down scads of stores thing, they were still better than Wal-Mart; it gave us options. However, when Wal-Mart decided to go Super-Center instead of Regular, K-Mart got forced out. In addition to K-Mart closing, we have also had two grocery stores close (and even Albertson's is failing; rumor has it that they might make it another year), our small mall has only two stores left...and up until Wal-Mart expanded, these were thriving small businesses. I am all for free enterprise and all that good shit; it's all about the money, and I am not stupid-I know that's how the world works. However, there is a huge difference between making a healthy profit and raping the customers, and Wal-Mart seems to have the ass-fucking down to a science.
You take a small area like this and promise some 200 jobs; of course we are going to show up at the planning and zoning meetings and say "Hell yeah, that sounds great! We need jobs!" We DO need jobs; however, where is the ability to think it through and see that 200 part-time, minimum-wage, no benefits jobs isn't really going to make a dent in our already lagging economy? Still, the vote got passed by a healthy margin, and the Super-Center arrived. We had the jobs, for a little while people were happy-I mean, really, a one-stop-shopping center? That basically caters to the working individual without a lot of money to spare? Great quality, cheap prices, how could there be a problem?
But then the other stores started closing, and call me a conspiracy theorist if you want, but this is exactly what Wal-Mart intended. Lower the prices until they have effectively shut down any competitor, wait until people get used to shopping for everything there, and then jack the prices up-we have nowhere else to go. Lower the quality at the same time so that things fall apart more quickly, thus ensuring that we have to go back. I also think they have been sitting back in the wings rubbing their hands with glee as the gas prices have risen; that is just one more way to force us to shop there.
I am not EVEN going to start on their poor business practices, and how they do a lot of things that are legal but are totally unethical. That would take me days to fully articulate, and even then I wouldn't be able to truly convey how much I hate this corporation and everything they stand for. Instead, I will say this: that if I, the single mother of four kids, can afford to shop elsewhere in order to avoid Wal-Mart, anyone can. I have learned that while I might pay more at, say, Penney's (which is actually my new favorite store, with Target running a close second), the quality far exceeds the price, and I end up spending less in the long run. Clothes from Penney's and Target get too small-they don't wear out or rip at the seams, therefore I don't have to replace them nearly as often. Sears has the guarantee on kids clothes that if they wear out-including the knees!-before the kid outgrows them, they will replace them at no cost to you, the consumer. This is well worth it when you have growing boys who are rough on clothes just by putting them on. Old Navy, while not as of good a quality as they used to be, is still a reasonable place to shop. While I DO have the problem of living in a rural area with only one of the above stores nearby, I try to wait until we need several items and drive 40 miles to go to a different store-the money I save in the long run by far pays for my gas. I shop at the grocery store in town here, and even though some of the prices may be slightly higher, I get the added benefit of receiving points for every dollar I spend-redeemable for coupons or gift cards or merchandise. This paid for my kids' clothes from Old Navy for the vacation, and last year paid for better than half of their Christmas presents-so again in the long run, I am saving money.
I just wish more people had a social conscience; yes, money is tight for everyone, but I am a firm believer in you get what you pay for; if you buy in a place that sells shit, I am pretty sure you are just going to go home with a bag full of shit. I might have had to go there the once, but you can guarantee that I am SO going online to find the goddamned training pants elsewhere. I wish that more people would stop and think about the negative effects that Wal-Mart has not just on little town, but in many, many others. I wish that people would take a stand and say "Hey, asshole, we are NOT going to shop or work here because we don't support what you stand for!" The people I met from Canada over the summer, Mark and Iris, were telling me that Wal-Mart overrode all public outcry and somehow managed to get a permit to build in their town (can anyone say "bribe?" I bet the chairman of the Planning and Zoning Commission, or whatever the Canadian equivalent is, has a nice little nest egg now!), and the store got built all right-but now they can't find anyone to WORK their. They said, "No thanks, we don't want to work for you because you suck." Last I heard, they still hadn't opened-and I say yay! Too bad more people don't have the same mindset-I think we would see a lot of changes.
Now that I am done ranting about this for a minute, I think I need to go brush my teeth; the bitter taste is back in my mouth, and I am disgusted with myself all over again.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
My Own Personal New Year
Almost literally overnight, fall has arrived here. It was chilly last night, and this morning I woke up to frost on the ground. A light frost, but a frost nonetheless. I really love autumn and all that goes with it-school starting, cooler nights and warm days, soup in the crock pot, pumpkins. The month of September has to be one of my favorites, and also my own personal New Year. Ever since I was a child, the beginning of school was such a huge event in my life, and ever since then, September is when I take stock of my life, look at where I have been in the last year and also where I want to be. It is a time of really recognizing not only my own growth, but my mistakes and things I want to change, and the rest of the year will be spent working on those things which have caught my attention.
I had a couple of insights over the long weekend regarding Steve. He very unexpectedly invited us to go camping-I had thought he was just wanting to take Owen, which would have been fine too, but no, we were all invited (the other three kids didn't want to go, so it ended up being just Steve, Owen and I). I told him that I really couldn't afford to go-usually I at least provide some of the food, especially if all of us are going-but he said for me not to worry about it. So I didn't. He paid for everything, including dinner on the way. "As well he should!' you might all be thinking, and I would agree. But my insight was this: his invitation, as well as his willingness to pay for the trip, was his way of apologizing. He cannot or will not apologize for the fight we got into, he will not ever come right out and say, "I was wrong, I screwed up my money and I took it out on you instead of being mad at myself." He just won't; and while I have always known this about him, it only just occurred to me that this is his pattern; when he has messed up, he tries to make up for it in other ways, even if that isn't what I need from him. I am not excusing his behavior, not at all. He treated me very poorly, of that I am in no doubt. However, the fact that he doesn't come right out and SAY, "I am sorry, I fucked up" does not mean that he doesn't try to show it in other ways. I was able to be much more generous with him than in the past (because believe me, I am really, really good at holding onto a resentment or punishing someone for not doing/being who and what I want them to be. This is a constant battle for me). So one of the things I am going to try to do differently is being aware that while he might not SAY he is sorry, he very often MEANS he is, and even though I feel like I NEED to hear the words, maybe I don't. This very well may bleed over into other areas in my life, too, because I am judgemental, a bitch, and oh-so-rigid. I tend to get slighted once and totally cut people off with my coldness. I don't want to be that way so much this year, so I am going to try to look more at what people do and take into account the fact that just because I say I am sorry and try not to make the same mistake doesn't mean that everyone is the same way. Ha, what a novel concept, right? Something that most people would see as a no-brainer, but something I haven't fully grasped until now.
Another insight I had while on one of our 40 mile ATV rides: I posted about my resentment toward Steve for having parents who will help him pay his bills or help him out in other ways financially, and that really has been a bone of contention with us all along. And in my own defense, they are terrible enablers, and have really tried to protect Steve from the consequences of his choices, despite the fact that he is almost 40. Which has, of course, led him to believe that he CAN escape the consequences-he has thus far, for the most part. What I realized was that I am jealous; insanely, terribly, disgustingly jealous-because I do not have parents who help me out AT ALL. My mom is-well. She likes to be the hero and come in to save us kids when something goes wrong-but if she has to help in any financial way, there is a price. My mom is the last person in the world I would ask for help, because the cost is too high. And my dad-my dad's presence in my life is virtually non-existent (which is partly my fault, too, because I am not what one would consider a model child). So yes, I am horribly jealous, which is just making ME sick-it isn't changing any of their behaviors. So I see that the thing I need to work on AGAIN is accepting that my family is the way they are, and I can either make peace with it or die angry and bitter-which only hurts me. It isn't Steve or his family I am really angry toward, it is my own-and damn it, I thought I was pretty well past this, thought that I had for the most part come to terms with things and accepted them-but apparently there is still more work to be done.
So this year's work begins. Always relationship issues, always family issues, and it seems sometimes that the work is never done. I don't know that I will ever fully heal from my earlier life, and while I don't use it as an excuse for poor behavior, there is no doubt that it affects my life daily. Same with relationship issues; I have to work on resolving the baggage with Steve, take responsibility of my own shit and work on making positive changes for myself. This involves a lot of self-love and forgiveness, which is in short supply a lot of the time. What I do know is that I am too old to go through the same shit I have already been through-and if I don't want to do that, I have to change my belief systems and work on resolving some of this crap. Whether I ultimately end up with Steve or someone else entirely, I have to find a way to get over my belief that I am not deserving or worthy of love, and that men are not ALL entirely assholes.
Looks like I have a long road ahead, but not nearly so long a road as the one behind me. It will be a good year, of that I am confident.
I had a couple of insights over the long weekend regarding Steve. He very unexpectedly invited us to go camping-I had thought he was just wanting to take Owen, which would have been fine too, but no, we were all invited (the other three kids didn't want to go, so it ended up being just Steve, Owen and I). I told him that I really couldn't afford to go-usually I at least provide some of the food, especially if all of us are going-but he said for me not to worry about it. So I didn't. He paid for everything, including dinner on the way. "As well he should!' you might all be thinking, and I would agree. But my insight was this: his invitation, as well as his willingness to pay for the trip, was his way of apologizing. He cannot or will not apologize for the fight we got into, he will not ever come right out and say, "I was wrong, I screwed up my money and I took it out on you instead of being mad at myself." He just won't; and while I have always known this about him, it only just occurred to me that this is his pattern; when he has messed up, he tries to make up for it in other ways, even if that isn't what I need from him. I am not excusing his behavior, not at all. He treated me very poorly, of that I am in no doubt. However, the fact that he doesn't come right out and SAY, "I am sorry, I fucked up" does not mean that he doesn't try to show it in other ways. I was able to be much more generous with him than in the past (because believe me, I am really, really good at holding onto a resentment or punishing someone for not doing/being who and what I want them to be. This is a constant battle for me). So one of the things I am going to try to do differently is being aware that while he might not SAY he is sorry, he very often MEANS he is, and even though I feel like I NEED to hear the words, maybe I don't. This very well may bleed over into other areas in my life, too, because I am judgemental, a bitch, and oh-so-rigid. I tend to get slighted once and totally cut people off with my coldness. I don't want to be that way so much this year, so I am going to try to look more at what people do and take into account the fact that just because I say I am sorry and try not to make the same mistake doesn't mean that everyone is the same way. Ha, what a novel concept, right? Something that most people would see as a no-brainer, but something I haven't fully grasped until now.
Another insight I had while on one of our 40 mile ATV rides: I posted about my resentment toward Steve for having parents who will help him pay his bills or help him out in other ways financially, and that really has been a bone of contention with us all along. And in my own defense, they are terrible enablers, and have really tried to protect Steve from the consequences of his choices, despite the fact that he is almost 40. Which has, of course, led him to believe that he CAN escape the consequences-he has thus far, for the most part. What I realized was that I am jealous; insanely, terribly, disgustingly jealous-because I do not have parents who help me out AT ALL. My mom is-well. She likes to be the hero and come in to save us kids when something goes wrong-but if she has to help in any financial way, there is a price. My mom is the last person in the world I would ask for help, because the cost is too high. And my dad-my dad's presence in my life is virtually non-existent (which is partly my fault, too, because I am not what one would consider a model child). So yes, I am horribly jealous, which is just making ME sick-it isn't changing any of their behaviors. So I see that the thing I need to work on AGAIN is accepting that my family is the way they are, and I can either make peace with it or die angry and bitter-which only hurts me. It isn't Steve or his family I am really angry toward, it is my own-and damn it, I thought I was pretty well past this, thought that I had for the most part come to terms with things and accepted them-but apparently there is still more work to be done.
So this year's work begins. Always relationship issues, always family issues, and it seems sometimes that the work is never done. I don't know that I will ever fully heal from my earlier life, and while I don't use it as an excuse for poor behavior, there is no doubt that it affects my life daily. Same with relationship issues; I have to work on resolving the baggage with Steve, take responsibility of my own shit and work on making positive changes for myself. This involves a lot of self-love and forgiveness, which is in short supply a lot of the time. What I do know is that I am too old to go through the same shit I have already been through-and if I don't want to do that, I have to change my belief systems and work on resolving some of this crap. Whether I ultimately end up with Steve or someone else entirely, I have to find a way to get over my belief that I am not deserving or worthy of love, and that men are not ALL entirely assholes.
Looks like I have a long road ahead, but not nearly so long a road as the one behind me. It will be a good year, of that I am confident.
Friday, August 29, 2008
I am NOT blogging about....
Out of deference to a couple of people whom I have been emailing about those little girls, I am NOT going tell you that I found out that this piece of shit mother has another child as well. A little boy, just a year old (meaning that he and A are not quite a year apart), who is also going to be placed with this same foster mom. He has been with a family member up to this point, but suddenly they decided it was too much work and and have said they don't want him. This also goes back to my raving yesterday: how in God's name did they decide they wanted him but not the other two? Oh, yeah. Different family, different dad.
And also out of deference to those same people, I am not going to tell you that B actually let me touch her hair this morning, and tapped me on the leg when I left. I of course had to bestow kisses to A and my sweet little Owen, and both of them needed prolific hugs, but somehow that oh-so-casual tap on the leg was just as sweet to me. I am not going to tell you that Jacquie and I picked out a pair of shoes last night for A, and the sweetest little outfit for B, when we were shopping last night, nor am I going to tell you that I have already gone through some of Owen's old clothes and rooted out just a few things for Little Boy, C, who will be starting at the daycare on Monday.
I will tell you, however, that Foster Mom, T, is considering adopting the three of them. From what I understand, it is likely at this point that they will be separated; there are few families who want to adopt three kids, two of which are not yet potty trained. But T. wants them, all of them-and if there is ANY justice on the world, she will get them. She has tried to adopt several different fosters over the years, but has always been denied for one reason or another-at the last minute, a willing (if not particularly able!) family member has popped up, or the state has decided to give mom one more chance...but let hope that in this instance, things go right and T gets them.
And that's really all I am not going to blog about today. I had a meeting in another town for work this morning to go over some changes to their policies, and it was actually quite fun. The Marketing Director is about 60 years old, and did this really funny skit involving an eagle costume, a stainless steel egg timer, and a flashlight, and then we all went out for lunch. Consequently, I am in the midst of a carbohydrate induced coma, and my creative juices are all being used to digest my lunch. Keep good thoughts in your head for T and those three babies; C is supposed to be dropped off tonight, so they will have the long weekend to start adjusting, and I will get to meet him on Tuesday. I will be sure to not blog about him, too.
P.S. I love you, XBOX!
And also out of deference to those same people, I am not going to tell you that B actually let me touch her hair this morning, and tapped me on the leg when I left. I of course had to bestow kisses to A and my sweet little Owen, and both of them needed prolific hugs, but somehow that oh-so-casual tap on the leg was just as sweet to me. I am not going to tell you that Jacquie and I picked out a pair of shoes last night for A, and the sweetest little outfit for B, when we were shopping last night, nor am I going to tell you that I have already gone through some of Owen's old clothes and rooted out just a few things for Little Boy, C, who will be starting at the daycare on Monday.
I will tell you, however, that Foster Mom, T, is considering adopting the three of them. From what I understand, it is likely at this point that they will be separated; there are few families who want to adopt three kids, two of which are not yet potty trained. But T. wants them, all of them-and if there is ANY justice on the world, she will get them. She has tried to adopt several different fosters over the years, but has always been denied for one reason or another-at the last minute, a willing (if not particularly able!) family member has popped up, or the state has decided to give mom one more chance...but let hope that in this instance, things go right and T gets them.
And that's really all I am not going to blog about today. I had a meeting in another town for work this morning to go over some changes to their policies, and it was actually quite fun. The Marketing Director is about 60 years old, and did this really funny skit involving an eagle costume, a stainless steel egg timer, and a flashlight, and then we all went out for lunch. Consequently, I am in the midst of a carbohydrate induced coma, and my creative juices are all being used to digest my lunch. Keep good thoughts in your head for T and those three babies; C is supposed to be dropped off tonight, so they will have the long weekend to start adjusting, and I will get to meet him on Tuesday. I will be sure to not blog about him, too.
P.S. I love you, XBOX!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
There Will Be Time...
Talk about a knife to the heart; that little girl? The one about which I wrote on Monday? We'll call her A. Now when I drop Owen off at daycare, she comes running up to me to be picked up. Also, this morning when I was kissing Owen goodbye, she cried out, "Me, too! Hug!' and I had to go back in and give her a kiss and a hug. Her sister, whom I will call B, has the most beautiful brown, nappy hair I have ever seen in my life, and gorgeous brown eyes, and the sweetest, most delicate pierced earlobes you can imagine, finally smiled at me today, and told me that she snapped her pants up all by herself.
Yesterday, Jacquie was making some toast and I was wiping Owen's disgusting nose and B, who is, I think, 4, was kind of wistfully looking at us and said, "My mom never feeds me." And I did not stop to think that she was talking about her mom, not her foster mom, so I was kind of teasing her saying, "Oh, she never feeds you? Never, ever? I don't believe that for a minute!" She looked hurt, and only later did it occur to me that maybe her mom really DIDN'T feed her. She certainly doesn't look undernourished now, but they have been with their foster mom for about 6 months, so the most obvious affects would have been alleviated with good care.
I have found out a little bit more, too, not about the circumstances of them being taken away but what has happened in the ensuing months. Parental rights are in the process of being terminated, which has to be done before the children can be adopted. Mom is fighting the termination-but for only one child. She only wants B; she has said, "I won't fight the termination for A if you will let me keep B," as if A is some sort of bargaining tool. T, the foster mom, said that the fact that she actually suggested such a thing is simply more proof that she is unfit, and helps the termination proceedings greatly.
I keep thinking about this, in fact am obsessing about it a little bit. I cannot imagine how a parent can choose one child over another. I cannot imagine looking at my four children and saying, "Okay, I want you and you, but you other two have to go." The damage that would do to ALL of the children would be lifelong and devastating. In trying in vain to understand this, I thought back to my very, very worst moments of hating my ex-husband SO much that if I saw him on the street I probably would have run him over without a second thought. I thought of my sweet Sam, who looks EXACTLY like his dad save hair and eye color, and cannot imagine taking out my hatred of his father on him. It just-I don't get it. How can anyone, no matter what water is under the bridge, no matter what heinous things have occurred at the hands of the father, hate the child (I am not talking about the products of rape or incest, as that is a different situation and one in which I think abortion makes complete sense)? God, I am not naive; I know that things like this happen all too regularly. Mom makes poor decisions and sometimes doesn't even know who the father is, then chooses to continue the pregnancy for whatever reasons, and then? Abandonment and heartbreak for the kids follow. I don't get it, I really don't.
And I don't WANT to get it. I want exactly what I have: four kids from three different fathers (which isn't as careless as it sounds, believe me!), four kids whom I adore and cherish in their own right. Regardless of who donated the sperm, they all share a common thread and that is ME. How can I love one more? I abhor Sam's dad and I love Owen's-but I could no more pick one of them than I could cut off one of my arms.
Either Dingo or JT commented on my earlier post (sorry, too lazy to go back and check the comments to see which one, plus hey, who couldn't use a little shout-out?) about how maybe it is time for a career change, and mentioned something about Social Work and advocacy, and yes, I have thought about it. I went back to college at age 30 and Social Work was my ultimate goal. However, I found that going to school full-time (which I HAD to do in order to qualify for financial aid) and working full-time and being the single mom of three was too much for me, and I made the choice to stop going after three semesters. I know, I know, lots of other single moms go on to get their degree, my dear April being one of them, but at that time in my life, it just wasn't something that I felt like I could do. And now, with a toddler at home again, I know that until he starts school I can't even think about it. Not if I want to be the kind of a mom I AM.
However, it isn't just about the whole getting a degree thing-it's about knowing that right now, my focus has GOT to be on my own kids. I can feel for and want to help and get angry on behalf of the millions of neglected and unwanted kids in the world. I can (and often do, until I have to force myself to go on a media hiatus or plug my ears and sing Jesus Loves Me if someone starts talking about it) cry over the terrible things that happen on a daily basis, I can rant and rave about how we are a nation who does not give a fuck about our kids but would much rather fund a war to help a country who doesn't want help anyway. I can expend a ton of emotional and physical energy on trying to fix this problem, but at this point in time, I can't do anything tangible to help. I cannot sacrifice my children to attain some lofty goal of curing society's ills. Because if all of my focus is on saving the world, who will save my children?
I leave you with this poem. A poem that in the dead of night has given me the strength to go on when I have questioned and wondered what happened to all of my dreams and ambitions. When I have been crying and heartbroken because this is not what I imagined my life to be, this poem has reminded me that having children is only temporary, and there is time. Time to enjoy and love and cherish and raise kids who will have an impact on the world, and time, later to make my own.
Peggy O'Mara
Yesterday, Jacquie was making some toast and I was wiping Owen's disgusting nose and B, who is, I think, 4, was kind of wistfully looking at us and said, "My mom never feeds me." And I did not stop to think that she was talking about her mom, not her foster mom, so I was kind of teasing her saying, "Oh, she never feeds you? Never, ever? I don't believe that for a minute!" She looked hurt, and only later did it occur to me that maybe her mom really DIDN'T feed her. She certainly doesn't look undernourished now, but they have been with their foster mom for about 6 months, so the most obvious affects would have been alleviated with good care.
I have found out a little bit more, too, not about the circumstances of them being taken away but what has happened in the ensuing months. Parental rights are in the process of being terminated, which has to be done before the children can be adopted. Mom is fighting the termination-but for only one child. She only wants B; she has said, "I won't fight the termination for A if you will let me keep B," as if A is some sort of bargaining tool. T, the foster mom, said that the fact that she actually suggested such a thing is simply more proof that she is unfit, and helps the termination proceedings greatly.
I keep thinking about this, in fact am obsessing about it a little bit. I cannot imagine how a parent can choose one child over another. I cannot imagine looking at my four children and saying, "Okay, I want you and you, but you other two have to go." The damage that would do to ALL of the children would be lifelong and devastating. In trying in vain to understand this, I thought back to my very, very worst moments of hating my ex-husband SO much that if I saw him on the street I probably would have run him over without a second thought. I thought of my sweet Sam, who looks EXACTLY like his dad save hair and eye color, and cannot imagine taking out my hatred of his father on him. It just-I don't get it. How can anyone, no matter what water is under the bridge, no matter what heinous things have occurred at the hands of the father, hate the child (I am not talking about the products of rape or incest, as that is a different situation and one in which I think abortion makes complete sense)? God, I am not naive; I know that things like this happen all too regularly. Mom makes poor decisions and sometimes doesn't even know who the father is, then chooses to continue the pregnancy for whatever reasons, and then? Abandonment and heartbreak for the kids follow. I don't get it, I really don't.
And I don't WANT to get it. I want exactly what I have: four kids from three different fathers (which isn't as careless as it sounds, believe me!), four kids whom I adore and cherish in their own right. Regardless of who donated the sperm, they all share a common thread and that is ME. How can I love one more? I abhor Sam's dad and I love Owen's-but I could no more pick one of them than I could cut off one of my arms.
Either Dingo or JT commented on my earlier post (sorry, too lazy to go back and check the comments to see which one, plus hey, who couldn't use a little shout-out?) about how maybe it is time for a career change, and mentioned something about Social Work and advocacy, and yes, I have thought about it. I went back to college at age 30 and Social Work was my ultimate goal. However, I found that going to school full-time (which I HAD to do in order to qualify for financial aid) and working full-time and being the single mom of three was too much for me, and I made the choice to stop going after three semesters. I know, I know, lots of other single moms go on to get their degree, my dear April being one of them, but at that time in my life, it just wasn't something that I felt like I could do. And now, with a toddler at home again, I know that until he starts school I can't even think about it. Not if I want to be the kind of a mom I AM.
However, it isn't just about the whole getting a degree thing-it's about knowing that right now, my focus has GOT to be on my own kids. I can feel for and want to help and get angry on behalf of the millions of neglected and unwanted kids in the world. I can (and often do, until I have to force myself to go on a media hiatus or plug my ears and sing Jesus Loves Me if someone starts talking about it) cry over the terrible things that happen on a daily basis, I can rant and rave about how we are a nation who does not give a fuck about our kids but would much rather fund a war to help a country who doesn't want help anyway. I can expend a ton of emotional and physical energy on trying to fix this problem, but at this point in time, I can't do anything tangible to help. I cannot sacrifice my children to attain some lofty goal of curing society's ills. Because if all of my focus is on saving the world, who will save my children?
I leave you with this poem. A poem that in the dead of night has given me the strength to go on when I have questioned and wondered what happened to all of my dreams and ambitions. When I have been crying and heartbroken because this is not what I imagined my life to be, this poem has reminded me that having children is only temporary, and there is time. Time to enjoy and love and cherish and raise kids who will have an impact on the world, and time, later to make my own.
There Will Be Time
There is time still
for sitting in cafes in Paris
sipping wine.
Time still
for going to meet
the guru.
There is time still.
Now I am caring for eternity.
Carrying bodies soft with sleep
to beds of flowered
quilts and pillows.
Answering cries deep out of
nighttime fears.
Buckling shoes.
Opening doors.
Pretending.
My soul now is dwelling in
the house of tomorrow.
Tomorrow there will be time
for long leisurely conversations,
for poems to write,
and dances to perform.
Time still.
So I surrender now
to them and this,
knowing it is they
who will teach me
how to do it all.
Peggy O'Mara
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
In Which I Step Away From The Edge
April tagged me for a 10 Things meme awhile back, and I obviously haven't gotten to it yet; I joked, because I just finished my 100 Things post a little while back and surely there aren't 10 MORE things about me? Still-since I find myself endlessly fascinating and believe in my heart-of-hearts that you do, too, I will do this one as well.
1. If I won the lottery, I will be the first person to admit that you bet your ass it would change me. I believe I would become much more generous and kind, for one thing; I know SO many people whom I would like to help, but can't due to my own lack of resources. And as much as I love my job, you can also bet that I would not be working full-time any longer. I have hear some people say that they would help out their family, but nah, I wouldn't. I WOULD put some money is a trust fund for my sister's kids, but I wouldn't be paying off mortgages or giving anyone a lump sum. Too much water under the bridge. I would, perhaps, pay for a family vacation, so long as I wasn't expected to go.
2. The word "anywho" or any derivative thereof? Makes me want to barf. Come on, people, not only is that not even a real word, but it makes you sound illiterate and ignorant. And it isn't cute, either, or funny. Much like my use of profanity, I am sure. :)
3. I see kids sucking on their mittens in the winter and it makes me get chills and hurts my teeth. Even right now as I am typing this, I have the mental image of a kid sucking on a mitten and it hurts. I have no legitimate reason for this, it just makes me cringe.
4. Women who say things like, " I don't know, I will have to talk to my husband first" when confronted with making a decisions drive.me.insane. I can understand if you are making a huge purchase or deciding to take gramps off of life support, but otherwise? Grow a sac already and stop being such a pussy. You women give other women a bad rep.
5. Even though I love God and try to do what He tells me to do (often kicking and screaming all the way), church bores me out of my mind. I find it very nearly impossible to feel close to the Big Guy when I am nodding off and wondering if the couple in front of me did the wild thing last night or why-oh-why doesn't that parent stop the booger-eating-kid from crawling under all of the pews? I used to love the Assemblies of God church because even though it was kind of strange and sometimes freaky, it was NEVER boring.
6. Consequently, even though we talk about God and pray every night and live a pretty "good" life, I have a hard time telling my kids they HAVE to go to church. Because if I tell them they have to go, then I also have to go, and-well.
7. Mr. Lady invited me to a potluck awhile back, and I am still in fucking awe at how she described me. The woman is a freaking genius. I like to hear how other people think of me (unless it is negative, because then I will write them off and pretend I never knew who they were. Because I am that good. And does sarcasm and self-denigration come across in the written word?), because very often they have an insight I don't, and it is pretty cool to see.
8. I got a new button there on the right side of the page. I am hoping that it will help fund my trip to BlogHer next year, but I have only made something like, oh, 4 cents. Still, I am hoping to be able to go and meet April. I already told her my two criteria: we have to share a room and I will not clean up puke if she gets all liquored up and sick.
9. I finally pulled my bed out for the first time since the CSG incident; despite the irrationality of my fears, they were still there. But then the big old Harley jumped up on the bed next to, and armed with the dog and the pepper spray and the two bats and the phone and my cigarettes in case I needed to have a quick puff or ten to calm my nerves, I was able to sleep.
10. Despite my intelligence, I am sometimes really, really slow on the uptake. This morning, looking across the street at the cops washing their cars (because they don't have anything better to do, like walk over here and give me the fucking paperwork for the Last Call Trace, but that is a story for another post entirely), I noticed that there were two big black signs on the garbage Dumpster that said, "POLICE." I puzzled over that one because why would they need to mark the dumpster? Is it really likely that someone is going to sneak off with the dumpster in the middle of the night, which would require the police to do a yard-to-yard search in the daylight and they would recognize the dumpster because it is marked? But then I realized that they were the magnetic signs that were taken off of the police car while they were washing it.
There you have it; another 10 things that surely you could not have lived without knowing about me. I had three or four other posts in mind, and they are sort of percolating in the old brain today and may or may not show up another day. For today, for this moment, I am still looking over the edge, and these silly little things somehow keep me from jumping (metaphorically speaking, guys, don't call the loony bin just yet). The small things, indeed.
1. If I won the lottery, I will be the first person to admit that you bet your ass it would change me. I believe I would become much more generous and kind, for one thing; I know SO many people whom I would like to help, but can't due to my own lack of resources. And as much as I love my job, you can also bet that I would not be working full-time any longer. I have hear some people say that they would help out their family, but nah, I wouldn't. I WOULD put some money is a trust fund for my sister's kids, but I wouldn't be paying off mortgages or giving anyone a lump sum. Too much water under the bridge. I would, perhaps, pay for a family vacation, so long as I wasn't expected to go.
2. The word "anywho" or any derivative thereof? Makes me want to barf. Come on, people, not only is that not even a real word, but it makes you sound illiterate and ignorant. And it isn't cute, either, or funny. Much like my use of profanity, I am sure. :)
3. I see kids sucking on their mittens in the winter and it makes me get chills and hurts my teeth. Even right now as I am typing this, I have the mental image of a kid sucking on a mitten and it hurts. I have no legitimate reason for this, it just makes me cringe.
4. Women who say things like, " I don't know, I will have to talk to my husband first" when confronted with making a decisions drive.me.insane. I can understand if you are making a huge purchase or deciding to take gramps off of life support, but otherwise? Grow a sac already and stop being such a pussy. You women give other women a bad rep.
5. Even though I love God and try to do what He tells me to do (often kicking and screaming all the way), church bores me out of my mind. I find it very nearly impossible to feel close to the Big Guy when I am nodding off and wondering if the couple in front of me did the wild thing last night or why-oh-why doesn't that parent stop the booger-eating-kid from crawling under all of the pews? I used to love the Assemblies of God church because even though it was kind of strange and sometimes freaky, it was NEVER boring.
6. Consequently, even though we talk about God and pray every night and live a pretty "good" life, I have a hard time telling my kids they HAVE to go to church. Because if I tell them they have to go, then I also have to go, and-well.
7. Mr. Lady invited me to a potluck awhile back, and I am still in fucking awe at how she described me. The woman is a freaking genius. I like to hear how other people think of me (unless it is negative, because then I will write them off and pretend I never knew who they were. Because I am that good. And does sarcasm and self-denigration come across in the written word?), because very often they have an insight I don't, and it is pretty cool to see.
8. I got a new button there on the right side of the page. I am hoping that it will help fund my trip to BlogHer next year, but I have only made something like, oh, 4 cents. Still, I am hoping to be able to go and meet April. I already told her my two criteria: we have to share a room and I will not clean up puke if she gets all liquored up and sick.
9. I finally pulled my bed out for the first time since the CSG incident; despite the irrationality of my fears, they were still there. But then the big old Harley jumped up on the bed next to, and armed with the dog and the pepper spray and the two bats and the phone and my cigarettes in case I needed to have a quick puff or ten to calm my nerves, I was able to sleep.
10. Despite my intelligence, I am sometimes really, really slow on the uptake. This morning, looking across the street at the cops washing their cars (because they don't have anything better to do, like walk over here and give me the fucking paperwork for the Last Call Trace, but that is a story for another post entirely), I noticed that there were two big black signs on the garbage Dumpster that said, "POLICE." I puzzled over that one because why would they need to mark the dumpster? Is it really likely that someone is going to sneak off with the dumpster in the middle of the night, which would require the police to do a yard-to-yard search in the daylight and they would recognize the dumpster because it is marked? But then I realized that they were the magnetic signs that were taken off of the police car while they were washing it.
There you have it; another 10 things that surely you could not have lived without knowing about me. I had three or four other posts in mind, and they are sort of percolating in the old brain today and may or may not show up another day. For today, for this moment, I am still looking over the edge, and these silly little things somehow keep me from jumping (metaphorically speaking, guys, don't call the loony bin just yet). The small things, indeed.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Black Abyss Beckons
Another self-pity kind of day here, and I am trying really, really hard to pull myself out of it. Taken as a whole, I have a pretty good life, and I know that. All of the kids are healthy and happy, school started without incident yesterday (nobody missed the bus or forgot their backpacks or anything of that ilk), we got the dog we wanted and Eli also got another pup, we have great friends, I love my job...the list goes on. So I hate it when even though I can acknowledge how many really great things I DO have in my life, I still sometimes feel like I am just too tired and beaten down to keep moving forward. Today is one of those days.
Steve and I got into a huge fight last night. Huge. One of the biggest ones we have had. See, he was complaining about how 15% of his check is now being garnished because of some student loans that he has never paid. And I laughed; inadvertently, without meaning to cause a fight, I laughed. Because I make half of what he does, there are five of us and I don't get any financial help from anyone but him, and 25% of each of my checks is currently being garnished because of a bill of my ex-husband's. In addition, I do not have a mother who packs my lunch every day, buys groceries for me, helps me out when I am short because I spend too much money on crap, etc...So yeah, I laughed, because he was trying to play this sympathy card that just doesn't work for me. He also complained about the fact that he has to pay the car payment-which we agreed to in lieu of child support, as it benefited us both more to do it that way than to have him ordered to pay child support. I made a comment to the effect of him really getting off easy, at which point he blew. Totally and completely blew.
And while my rational mind kind of understands why he might feel like he is being shafted, I guess I really don't. Using the Child Support Calculator for my state, his actual ordered support would be $415, plus he would also be ordered to provide his medical insurance, approximately 85% of medical costs not covered by insurance, as well ad 85% of the daycare for Owen. Adding it all up, it comes to $705 a month. So yeah, just looking at the the numbers on paper, I would have to say that he is getting off easy, financially. Add to this the fact that he has purchased a case of diapers three times in over two years, bought clothes one time (and actually, his sister bought the clothes, he just picked them out), and paid part of one doctor bill when Owen had to go get allergy tested at 8 months old. The bill which was still almost $500 AFTER insurance, the bill I am still making payments on because he paid less than $100. So, yeah, I would say that financially, he IS getting the better end of the deal.
He also brought up the fact that he has to ask permission every time he want to take Owen, that I won't let him have Owen overnight unless he is staying somewhere with a family member, he "never" gets to see Owen, and maybe he should take me to court to get custody. And that just broke my heart and made me angry both. He hasn't stopped to think that the REASON I put the no-overnight-limits on his visits is because last time he had the kids-my other three included-overnight while my dad was in the ICU in another town, he got totally fucking drunk and some really, really awful things happened. I don't let him take him overnight because I don't trust him to not drink, or have his PO stop by the house and do a search and maybe arrest him, or pass out and leave Owen running around with no supervision or care. In addition, Steve can see Owen pretty much whenever he wants to on his days off; 90% of the time he chooses to ignore the opportunity to spend time with Owen and instead goes and visits his family or goes four wheeling or whatever it is that he does. And God knows I understand the need/desire to have time to do what you want to do, but don't then tell me that I am not letting you see your son. Just-don't.
I don't have the energy for this kind of hassle. I just don't. And I am so angry and hurt that he is only thinking in terms of money, as if he should be considered some fucking hero for shelling out $465 a month. In the meantime, in addition to the things I provide for Owen on a financial level like, oh, diapers and food and daycare and clothes and such, I provide everything for that baby. Everything. I am the one who gets up with him, who takes him TO the doctor, who nurses him when he is ill, who is in the process of disciplining him and potty training him. What I get are comments like this: "Why doesn't he know his colors yet?" instead of, "How nice that you have taught him to say thank you every time you give him something, or say please every time he asks for something." I get the, "He is two, shouldn't he be potty trained by now?" instead of "Wow, he is sleeping in a big boy bed and drinking out of a real cup!" And yet he isn't there to help, or to be part of the process, through choices of his own.
I think one of the things that made Steve the angriest last night was that after a point, I said, "I am not going to fight with you about Owen anymore. I am just NOT, because it only hurts Owen in the the long run. If you don't agree with the way things are, then you can take me to court and I can explain to the judge why you can't be trusted. And I can have child Support Services order child Support from you and I can make the car payment myself. But I am not going to let you try to make me feel guilty or responsible for your poor choices." For him, part of the fun is getting a reaction out of me, and when that stopped happening (to my credit, I think I only called him a a fucking dick once before I calmed down!), what was the use?
I still went to bed in tears last night, though, and today don't really feel much better. It shouldn't have to always be a battle. I shouldn't have to explain to a nearly 40 year old man that these are natural consequences to his choices, nor should I have to explain that his child support-be it in the form of making the car payment or a cash payment-is not about him giving something to me, but about him helping to support this child. I should not have to question my decisions or my parenting or the choices I have made, because he clearly doesn't have what it takes. And on a far deeper level, I should NOT have to be doing this alone, but due to the fact that he woke up one day-quite literally-and decided he no longer wanted to be in a relationship with me, I AM. I told you all I am whiny today, but it isn't fair, and it fucking sucks. I just feel myself being sucked back into a depression again, and I am trying desperately to pull myself out of it-because I hate self-pity, and I know that there is nothing I can do or say to make Steve have a different attitude. Nothing.
So. Always something, right?
Steve and I got into a huge fight last night. Huge. One of the biggest ones we have had. See, he was complaining about how 15% of his check is now being garnished because of some student loans that he has never paid. And I laughed; inadvertently, without meaning to cause a fight, I laughed. Because I make half of what he does, there are five of us and I don't get any financial help from anyone but him, and 25% of each of my checks is currently being garnished because of a bill of my ex-husband's. In addition, I do not have a mother who packs my lunch every day, buys groceries for me, helps me out when I am short because I spend too much money on crap, etc...So yeah, I laughed, because he was trying to play this sympathy card that just doesn't work for me. He also complained about the fact that he has to pay the car payment-which we agreed to in lieu of child support, as it benefited us both more to do it that way than to have him ordered to pay child support. I made a comment to the effect of him really getting off easy, at which point he blew. Totally and completely blew.
And while my rational mind kind of understands why he might feel like he is being shafted, I guess I really don't. Using the Child Support Calculator for my state, his actual ordered support would be $415, plus he would also be ordered to provide his medical insurance, approximately 85% of medical costs not covered by insurance, as well ad 85% of the daycare for Owen. Adding it all up, it comes to $705 a month. So yeah, just looking at the the numbers on paper, I would have to say that he is getting off easy, financially. Add to this the fact that he has purchased a case of diapers three times in over two years, bought clothes one time (and actually, his sister bought the clothes, he just picked them out), and paid part of one doctor bill when Owen had to go get allergy tested at 8 months old. The bill which was still almost $500 AFTER insurance, the bill I am still making payments on because he paid less than $100. So, yeah, I would say that financially, he IS getting the better end of the deal.
He also brought up the fact that he has to ask permission every time he want to take Owen, that I won't let him have Owen overnight unless he is staying somewhere with a family member, he "never" gets to see Owen, and maybe he should take me to court to get custody. And that just broke my heart and made me angry both. He hasn't stopped to think that the REASON I put the no-overnight-limits on his visits is because last time he had the kids-my other three included-overnight while my dad was in the ICU in another town, he got totally fucking drunk and some really, really awful things happened. I don't let him take him overnight because I don't trust him to not drink, or have his PO stop by the house and do a search and maybe arrest him, or pass out and leave Owen running around with no supervision or care. In addition, Steve can see Owen pretty much whenever he wants to on his days off; 90% of the time he chooses to ignore the opportunity to spend time with Owen and instead goes and visits his family or goes four wheeling or whatever it is that he does. And God knows I understand the need/desire to have time to do what you want to do, but don't then tell me that I am not letting you see your son. Just-don't.
I don't have the energy for this kind of hassle. I just don't. And I am so angry and hurt that he is only thinking in terms of money, as if he should be considered some fucking hero for shelling out $465 a month. In the meantime, in addition to the things I provide for Owen on a financial level like, oh, diapers and food and daycare and clothes and such, I provide everything for that baby. Everything. I am the one who gets up with him, who takes him TO the doctor, who nurses him when he is ill, who is in the process of disciplining him and potty training him. What I get are comments like this: "Why doesn't he know his colors yet?" instead of, "How nice that you have taught him to say thank you every time you give him something, or say please every time he asks for something." I get the, "He is two, shouldn't he be potty trained by now?" instead of "Wow, he is sleeping in a big boy bed and drinking out of a real cup!" And yet he isn't there to help, or to be part of the process, through choices of his own.
I think one of the things that made Steve the angriest last night was that after a point, I said, "I am not going to fight with you about Owen anymore. I am just NOT, because it only hurts Owen in the the long run. If you don't agree with the way things are, then you can take me to court and I can explain to the judge why you can't be trusted. And I can have child Support Services order child Support from you and I can make the car payment myself. But I am not going to let you try to make me feel guilty or responsible for your poor choices." For him, part of the fun is getting a reaction out of me, and when that stopped happening (to my credit, I think I only called him a a fucking dick once before I calmed down!), what was the use?
I still went to bed in tears last night, though, and today don't really feel much better. It shouldn't have to always be a battle. I shouldn't have to explain to a nearly 40 year old man that these are natural consequences to his choices, nor should I have to explain that his child support-be it in the form of making the car payment or a cash payment-is not about him giving something to me, but about him helping to support this child. I should not have to question my decisions or my parenting or the choices I have made, because he clearly doesn't have what it takes. And on a far deeper level, I should NOT have to be doing this alone, but due to the fact that he woke up one day-quite literally-and decided he no longer wanted to be in a relationship with me, I AM. I told you all I am whiny today, but it isn't fair, and it fucking sucks. I just feel myself being sucked back into a depression again, and I am trying desperately to pull myself out of it-because I hate self-pity, and I know that there is nothing I can do or say to make Steve have a different attitude. Nothing.
So. Always something, right?
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