Day 3 of Summer Visitation

Here it is, 9pm, and ChaosMonkey is just now getting to talk to him even though the agreed upon time between TheEx and I is 7:30pm.

They’re still working on remodelling their bathroom.

I got to talk to ChaosMonkey a grand total of about 15 minutes, a conversation that started with his dad’s phone beign at 6% battery life, and then his dad came in and asked him to get off the phone and go help him outside.

Motherfucking asshole.

I swear, my husband and I chose such winners our first go-arounds.

And, evidently, his dad has an iPhone 7… no money for child support but could afford a huge wedding, movies, eating out, a house of his own (in his aunt’s name), trips or of the country and to Disneyland, remodeling his bathroom, and the most up to date electronics.

Priorities. That’s all I’m gonna say on that.

Brain Babble

It’s been a rough week. I can’t lie about that but I certainly want to.

Multiple issues Sunday and Monday, a couple this morning. Perhaps one of the most disheartening realizations was the fact that, even though I knew I shouldn’t go on rollercoasters, I will never be on another one as long as I’m alive and  “healthy”. I tried swinging next to my daughter. Swinging, you know, on a swing set? My favorite part as a kid was always that arc right before you got too high and the sing started jumping. I didn’t even make it to that part before “something” happened and I almost fell out of the swing. No swings for me. No rollercoasters. That family trip to Six Flags my husband and I have been planning for when the kids got older just got thrown out the window.

But, hey, even just typing about it I started to get upset and get a little dizzy, but that could just be my medication kicking in.

My husband met his daughter, finally, after being denied for so long by her mother! From what my husband relayed to me and from what I saw myself on her social media stuff… my husband was right in that he made quite a positive impression on both his daughter and her soon-to-be-stepdad. He made enough of an impression on the latter that it has caused his ex some second thoughts in regards to whether or not she wants to indeed marry her third child’s baby-daddy. Interesting creatures, people.

I need to go in to my neurologist, the twitches in my hand keep getting worse. I don’t know if it’s related or not but I am forgetting and mixing up words I shouldn’t be. I can’t help but feel like I started going downhill super fast in one way once the medication was started for something else. What if the seizures are an allergic reaction to the medication? What if I’m not as sick as she thinks or it’s not what she thinks? I’m being hopeful, I’m trying not to be naive, I’m trying to ask questions so I don’t end up like a vegetable for the rest of my kids’ childhoods.

There’s so much in my head, but I am so tired. My sleep has not been restful at all the last few weeks. or maybe just two weeks, I’ve lost count. It’s my body, adapting to the medication.

Even now, I can feel the fire in my hands under my skin has returned. It makes me want to take an ice bath, and I hate the cold, normally the cold hurts. Ah, well,  life goes on.

Hopefully, I’ll be sitting down with my son’s principal tomorrow to discuss why the hell she let a child get away with punching my son in the eye. Accident, my ass. An accident wouldn’t have landed a fist in his eye, instinctually your hands are open when you fall. Just freaking common sense.

I have found myself missing my fellow writers as of late, the ones I used to meet with, and the community of bloggers I was with before I was here. Things keep changing, eh?

Can I Give You Family For Christmas?

My husband is back by where his ex and his first daughter are. Originally we had thought he wouldn’t be able to come home for my birthday or Christmas. Turns out, we had been wrong and he had been allotted two weeks of time off for the holidays. He started taking measures to come home, spoke of surprising the kids, spun some fanciful tales of bringing his daughter home with him for Christmas so we could ALL finally meet her, not just him. They were just daydreams we spun out, laughed over, and secretly wished were realistic.

When he emailed his ex… he got the typical “Of course you can see her, oh, wait, no you can’t” song and dance he’s had every time he’s tried to meet her.

We talked. We sat in silence on the phone, each of us heartbroken in our own ways in the silence, weighing it down with all the tears we’ve shaded in the past and should know better than to shed now.

“Stay.”

It’s what broke the silence. It was the word that broke my heart and would break the hearts of my kids if or when I tell them the untold story of Christmas 2015.

“If there’s any chance you can finally meet her, you should stay.” This was a bit stronger, and felt with a sincere passion and stubbornness.

If I could have seen him, I know the way he would have looked at me; his eyes a bit more open, his shoulders tensed in surprise and apprehension as he waits to see if I’m going to break down crying.

“You should stay.” I said again.

“Okay. I’ll cancel my leave.”

One sentence… with years of heartbreak, trepidation, disappointment, hope, fear.

I couldn’t say “You both deserve this chance.” It felt too much like telling him to put one side of his family above the other. He’s made my son such a priority, how could I tell him to do any differently in regards to his own daughter?

I just hope that one day, they can both see this and realize I said what I said out of love for them both and in hopes that it would finally bring all facets of our family together into the beautiful jewel it is meant to be.

Today is One of Those Some Days

Singing Through The Rain Picture Courtesy of WWW.SingingThroughTheRain.Net

 

Some days are hard. Then some are harder.

Today is a hard day; a cry yourself to sleep smelling his pillow, feed the kids fruit and goldfish for dinner, and eat chocolates in front of the television day. Not that I’d let myself do… all… of those things… at once…

I married a military man. To put it simply, I am the contracted mistress and breed mare to a man first and foremost married to his country. I do not mean to minimize the importance of this role. It is, in fact, my honor to hold such a title as Military Spouse.

When he is gone, one of the best parts of our family is missing. There’s something about the way our family works that holds with the idea of a family tree. The underlying strength he supplies us all with, the nourishment and shielding I add to that strength, our children who blossom and grow into fruits that will sooner or later fall away from us to either thrive or whither on their own.

There is something about the good memories that bring my heart, trembling, to it’s shattering point only to pour molten tears down onto it, welding it back together stronger than it was before. I may not feel that strength, and it takes time to heal, but with proper care and loving intentions, I’ll come to see it for what it was and is.

My family is broken, but it is those broken pieces that are spread over land, air, and sea protecting this nation.

Please, keep that in mind. Please, do not dishonor the sacrifice my family, my children, are making for you to be free. Please, strive to behave in a way that says “thank you” instead of “fuck you” this holiday season, or any other season.

Those Letters You Never Send…

I’ve written my level headed response to TheEx’s email, something which took me walking away from it several times and probably a good 24 hours.  With that “reasonable response” written, there are a few things left unsaid that I really need to get off my chest.


 

The problem is actually on the return on Sunday… And again it’s not about stressing my schedule… Really? Because “stressing my [your] schedule was a phrase I quoted directly from your previous email regarding this weekend’s normal visitation. It’s about having quality time with Alexander rather than just being in the car or at work or leaving him with a sitter. While it’s nice to see you FINALLY taking an interest in the quality of the time instead of the quantity of the time, the fact that you are contacting me on a Wednesday about your visitation beginning Friday doesn’t show much consideration at all.

I’m suggesting any 5-7 day period during the thanksgiving week that 
a) makes up September, October and November visitation While I appreciate you being willing to move the September visitation on my request, the fact that you are only just now concerned about it’s rescheduling speaks volumes.
b) includes thanksgiving day (it’s my year for that), I am well aware it’s your year for Thanksgiving. Based on the schedule we currently have which was specific to this duty station, mind you, my/ChaosMonkey’s calendar is already scheduled out till his 18th birthday.
c) minimally impacts his school schedule and It shouldn’t impact his school schedule at all, you self-centered ass.
d) doesn’t negatively affect any existing plans you have for time with your family. I would like to make this irrevocably clear: ANY time ChaosMonkey is away from my side of the family negatively impacts said family. I miss him, his siblings miss him, I dare say his stepfather misses him. We all take turns as often as possible when we talk to him on the phone while he’s away. His brother and sister cry and want to know when he’s coming back despite wanting him home right then. We are all HEARTBROKEN when he is away.

Options I see, but am open to other suggestions…

Friday to Friday (20-27) Jump off a cliff. That doesn’t allow us any of his Thanksgiving break to celebrate with him.
Sunday to Sunday (22-29), See Option 1’s response.
Wednesday to Sunday (25-29) and make up November during Christmas… Go fuck your narcissistic self, it’s our year for Christmas/my birthday which I had the option of having him for every year as it is my birthday. I was NICE when I agreed to alternate years with you and you’ve been a lying, manipulative, underhanded, un-child-supportive DICKHEAD.
If the whole thing falls through due to the move, we could also discuss making it all up during Christmas somehow… Though I really dislike the idea of pushing off 3-4 months… See Option 3’s response.

Respectfully, As if you have any idea what that word means.

TheEx


And on the other side of the family…


Dear Husband’s Ex,

Telling us you can’t give us the information to order school pictures for you and TheHubby’s daughter when, in fact, the school sent it home a couple weeks ago and you yourself would not be able to have ordered photos without said info, is outrageous. I shouldn’t be surprised given your colorful history but at the same time I can’t help but expect more from the human side of you, if there’s any left in the bitch that you are.
Sincerely,
Me

An Extension of Conversation

One of the most thoughtful things my husband has ever said to me was that sex was an extension of conversation. It was such an intrinsic view on it and I loved that, despite the many things my husband is not, he proved thoughtful on this subject. I’ve referenced this quote from him more than once. It was a moment I go back to quite often when we’re having marital issues.

After about a week of not really speaking to each other, we finally had an argument. A throw it all out in the open argument. Frankly, he wasn’t getting laid and didn’t like it whereas I was not being spoken to and didn’t like it. If sex was an extension of conversation, like he had said it was, why would he expect to get laid when there was no conversation taking place?

It was a true argument to form, which we haven’t done for a while. Usually, we discuss and not argue, but usually it doesn’t feel like things get resolved as well as they were after this.

When we were done arguing I loaded the kids up and left him to himself for a few hours.

When we came home I focused on the kids and gave him as much space as you can give someone you live with.

He came the next day after work.

“Remember how you said you’d said sex was an extension of conversation?”

“No,” I responded with one of those if looks cold kill glares, “you said that, to me, shortly after I moved in.”

He had thrown it out there like he was testing me, like he was trying to make sure he had indeed been the one to say it. He didn’t remember telling me something I held so dear.

The conversation progressed. I told him how lonely I’d been feeling, how he kept withdrawing farther and farther into a grumpy, mean, insulting version of himself. We talked about how yes, the house has been a mess because I have been unable to keep  up with it. That lead us to the stresses in regards to finances and health we’ve been dealing with. The conversation came to a close on a good note, not an exact plan for resolution but at least an idea of one.

“We still need more time to be together.” He said, hugging me.

“I know.” I nodded.

And things have been better. He makes an effort to say “I love you’s” again, to kiss me when he comes home, to let me know he enjoys being with me and not just… being… with… me.

We’ve lost ourselves amidst all the stresses and we’re just trying to find ourselves and each other again. Our kids have been such an anchor amidst it all. There have been so many days where being a parent was the only thing we seemed to know how to be anymore, and as parents we are a team, and that has been a solidifying factor during all the fractures we’ve been suffering.

It was good to come together and be on the same page again. For us both to realize that we still both wanted to be with the other despite all the seismic emotional activity.

When the Ride Ends…

Writing Prompt

After reading the prompt, I couldn’t help myself…

A little personal history with a twist of fiction…


When the Ride Ends…

We met after a band event at an amusement park when I was sixteen. My best friend and I ran into him and his best friend. We were inseparable; hitting the rides together, eating lunch, even just walking around. We parted ways when the day was over with a “See you next year” thrown over my shoulder and my

friend and I didn’t give it much more thought.

“Miss Smith, Miss Johnson, can I see you both in my office for a second.” Our music director had been one of my older brother’s best friends in college so he was always teasing me. I’d had a crush on him when we first met–older, cooler, cuter than guys my age. Now, he was my teacher and was much more of an annoying reminder that I had a family reputation to uphold.

“I received a letter at the school here.” He began. “Inside was a request to hand these off to you ladies,” he continued handing us each an envelope from out of a larger one. “I had meant to give this to you a while back”.

We looked at the envelopes, my friend’s addressed with her name and mine addressed with “For the Friend whom you know to give it to”. Whoever had tracked us down didn’t even know my name…

“I realize this is a bit presumptuous, but given the letter I received with them, I think it’s safe to assume they’re meant for you two.” He smiled that annoying big brother knows a secret kind of smile and dismissed us.

We looked at each other, grinned, and went to find an empty practice room. We closed the door behind us and tore into the envelopes. They were from the guys at the amusement park. We laughed till we cried.

…… Ten Years Later……

Time has a way of changing things, what you consider to be an adventure among them.

I wasn’t galavanting around, living off of my skills as a musician or writer anymore. I was a single mom working three jobs. My adventures these days consisted greatly of watching my child’s eyes go wide with awe as he learned about animals, bugs, science, everything. The antagonist of this journey was his neglectful father.

I still spoke with the young man I met at the amusement park on occasion, but the discussions were few and far between. I didn’t have much time for friends these days. On one of my rare, true days off we reconnected and he offered to take us out to dinner.

We ate and chatted and he told my son what a smart, wonderful kid he was. The evening was wonderful. So, when we got back to the house and I got my little one in bed, he was a bit baffled when I started crying.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had an evening out I wasn’t working or worried or just trying to make it through. It was nice to feel like a person again. The rest spilled out with the tears, how difficult things had been,how terrible things were with my son’s father even when we had been together.

He held me close, silent, gentle, and strong while I feel apart into the thousands of pieces I was always trying to hold together.

“I’ll take care of this” He whispered into my hair.

I din’t know what he’d meant, what he said didn’t even register until I got the call the next morning.

Seemed my son’s father had been found dead. The police said a lot of things and asked a lot of questions. It seemed like they couldn’t decide if it was gang related or not. There didn’t seem much evidence of violence among the gang members themselves…

The police asked a lot of questions… and when they left… I cried.