Huh?

At previously mentioned birthday party, the subject of godparents came up.  Yet again, the worst uncle in the world is one of the godparents.  And in spite of me not really agreeing with the ritual of infant baptism, I respect a parents beliefs and would assume a godparent should do the same.  Or at least give a shit.  At least show up.

After the stellar job of not seeing his godson since the hospital recovery room not to mention his own child, I don’t exactly see him as a candidate for a mentor, spiritual guide or all around support system.

What a disservice to Baby MK.   But hey, why not keep the delusion going for both kids.

Little H turned three and had quite a birthday bash tonight.  He is such a sweet boy.  Such a great hug giver, I will enjoy that I while I can.  It has to tide me over between back-breaking B bear hugs that are purposely bad.  Boys!

I’ve been walking around in a haze.

Not just keeping people at the normal across the street distance but rather across town.

Looking back at my journal from a few months back, I should’ve seen it coming. It was only a matter of time before things got worse.

Now I have no idea what to do with my life, what I want to be. Feeling like the bratty child who ‘just doesn’t wanna’ anymore. A lot of good it’s done me in the last decade. I’m tired of being a grown up, doing what’s expected of me. Why should I have to be the sad single mom stereotype to provide for my child.

I’m damn tired of hearing it for working too much – stopped that but then I don’t make enough, so by gosh I should be fighting over child support.

I don’t want to.

Don’t think I could find any more dishes to wash, mopping and laundry will have to fill the void of theraputic cleaning.

Hot mess, party of one. [July 27 part 2]

I truly understand the saying “awash with emotions” as I felt about everyone one at once. I’d not let her say much about the situation and even though the bitchy realist inside instantly wanted to shout ‘of course he married his meal ticket, it was only a matter of time’. He was always good about the romantic gestures to get back in your good graces, your home, and your heart. I kept my cool and made it into the house.

It hurt. I cried. I wallowed in bed.

I felt embarrassed I’d even given this much time and effort to someone who didn’t deserve one nose blow. But I couldn’t help it, I’d loved him madly, struggled rough times with and someone who’d been in my life in some for for eleven years in either a better or worse fashion was spending forever with someone else. In the end, I was the one alone.

A big fat reminder, it was always me that was hesitant, afraid of being hurt or letting others too close. Knowing full well loving him whole-heartedly always ended badly. And it did, but I was also smacked in the face that it was me that did then ending.

I’d just tried to ignore his life for the last two years since we last spoke. ‘As long as he doesn’t breed, I don’t care what he does’ had been my thought.

I’d been so angry and hurt when he’d moved for several reasons but finally encouraged him to stay when he had second thoughts. I certainly didn’t think we wouldn’t see him again. The pain of the previous spring was easing up and it seemed right for a fresh start.

But ultimately, I hadn’t gotten over things then or now. Hearing the finality in those words just ripped open the scab on the end of things, the things that were said, our child that I had lost and the emptiness I’d been patching over since thinking out of sight out of mind. Being honest, I never wanted him to do well or succeed like I may have said when trying to put the past behind. Selfishly, I wanted to do well, ugh, look what it had gotten me.

It hurt. I cried. I wallowed in bed. Braiden made me get up from my nap at ten p.m., just way to early for me to go to bed in his opinion.

My savior. Somedays he frustrates me beyond belief and I ask God why he couldn’t have given me a quiet girl like myself. At moments like those I know why he didn’t. He gave me just what I needed in my life.

I gathered up my crushed soul and headed for a shower. Determined to get through my last day before vacation I headed to work. I didn’t make it but managed to hold it together through a dead car, tow, and outlandish bill. It was later, the stresses of a terrible work environment that the tears came streaming down my face.

Hi old friend

After a week away – a week of excitement, adventures, exhaustion – I nearly didn’t recognize the living room rug as we finally arrived home Saturday night. The cat’s hairball on it brought it all back.

I slept like a corpse – not wanting to fulling join the world. Alas, I knew I’d need to scrounge up something for Braiden to eat. Padding to the fridge felt funny, I was officially home, surveying the damage and the wake we’d left as we headed to the airport.

Old milk, applesauce, and carrots stared back at me. I’d need to do some shopping. That would feel funny, I hadn’t spent more than five dollars all week. The trip had been all expense paid – no expense spared. Ugh. I didn’t want to think about how long I’d feel endebted over this.

Throwing off yesterday’s clothes that I’d fallen asleep in and grabbing something dirty by technicality only from my suitcase, my day was in full swing. By luck there was a package of cinnamon rolls in the fridge – a sign of good things to come, right?

Proudly, I’d spent less that ten dollars at the store for the essentials and headed home. I should’ve kept on driving to my garage but checked the mail. Living cluelessly positive iwth a plan for the next morning and my hopes of securing a new job intact.

I was trying to be hopeful. The last week had flowed from the worse in the last three years to one of the best. Surely the next would prove more predictable.

What had been so awful that it stood out? I guess it was a series of things instead of a catastrophe – for that I should be grateful. Ranging from the mild household appliance malfunction to hyperventilating at work stress. Looking at it in hindsight it feels foolish. For someone who thrives in chaos, why can’t I keep it together? But looking back at writing I’d done in my journal in the last few months, I should’ve seen it coming.

To appease my father – though I’d had and discarded the same thought numerous times lately – I decided to at least pass on the information to the court for child support collecting purposes. Frankly just so my dad will stop saying his name would be repayment enough.

Though it seems strange to both parents, I just want to ignore the whole idea. I firmly disagree that receiving a measly check will help my child emotionally. And it certainly won’t change his feelings for the man who didn’t turn around once in the last three years. That guy he stopped calling dad.

I’d always hoped my child would eventually respect my decision when he was older and could understand I wanted to do things for myself. On most days I am okay knowing my life is going less than stellar but in the long run is worth it for our self respect.

Unfortunately, my self esteem can only take so much badgering. Apparently good mothers don’t work two jobs and shuffle their kids around (as I’ve tried not to do lately) and they shouldn’t be worn out and angry all the time – my sparkling personality wins again.

I figured I would give an effort – ask his mom for his address again and say I’d tried.

Along with it I received a dose of information I neither asked for nor wanted. My ex, the ex was getting married.

To be continued.