So, You’ve Got Crazy Neighbors, Huh? Part One

It’s finally summer!!!  Woohoo!!!! 

Just had to get that out of my system.  School is out as of today, which means I’ll be unemployed (a bum) for the next 2 months or so.  Sounds good in theory (sleeping late, staying up late, catching up on recorded t.v. shows, etc.), but I know it’s going to be hard not seeing my work friends every day, not to mention the lack of fundage. 

I was thinking last night about what I could write about next.  I thought maybe I could write about my mother and her random crazy accusations.  Nah, not this time.  I thought maybe  I could write about the 4 crazy bitches at work who have it in for me.  Nah, not this time.  Then, Honeywine called me and something was said about her ex-neighbor, who we called HoBag, because, well, she was.  Eureeka!!!  I’ll tell you guys about all the crazy neighbors I’ve had over the years in military housing.  Trust me, ain’t no crazy neighbors like military housing neighbors.

Part One – Mr. Goodwrench is a bastard.               

I guess I’ll start at the beginning of my illustrious Army wife career.  I was 18 years old, had a baby, and my (now ex) husband was a 20-year-old private first class (on the ranking scale, that’s only 2nd from the lowest rank).  We were young, in love, and very, very, very naive. 

We had just arrived at Fort Benning, GA, and were given the keys to an ancient townhouse-style apartment with a huge kitchen, three bedrooms, and a narrow backyard.  We had our own place!  Nevermind that we didn’t have anything other than bedroom furniture and a TV.  We were really grown-ups now!  We would play hide and seek and tag with our son.  There was even one time when he was about 3 that we were all chasing each other through the kitchen and living room (it was kind of a big rectangle) and Big J ran into the cabinets without even slowing down.  He fell on his butt, looked up at us and laughed.  Man, those were good times.  I’m getting off track here.  Ahem.

Our apartment was smack dab in the middle of the row of apartments, so we had neighbors on both sides.  To the left, we had Little Miss Perfect Army Wife.  She had 3 small kids, stayed home, and her yard was spectacular.  I couldn’t care less that all I had was grass in my yard.  This story’s not about her, though.  It’s about Mr. Goodwrench.

Mr. Goodwrench seemed like a nice enough guy.  Sometimes he played music loud, but hey, who doesn’t sometimes?  For the most part, he kept to himself, which is how I like my neighbors.  He was always outside working on his old car.  We had just bought a new car (that we couldn’t really afford), so our old Jeep was parked on the street since we only had one assigned parking space.  One night I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when I heard a loud bang.  I thought it was odd, but we sometimes heard booms and stuff from the range, so I didn’t worry about it.  Then there was a knock at the door.  I looked through the peephole (hey, I don’t want to get raped!) and saw Mr. Goodwrench standing there.  I opened the door, and here is the exchange we had:

MG:  Good evening, ma’am.  Is your husband home?

Me:  Um, he’s gone to bed already.  What’s up?

MG:  I think you should get your husband to come down.

Me:  Why?

MG:  My daughter just hit your jeep.  (His daughter was about 3)

Me:  (Thinking he meant with a toy or something) I’m sure it’s fine.  I’ll come out and look at it.

MG:  Okay.

 

When I got out to the Jeep, I saw that the bumper had moved down about 6 inches on one side.  He had left his 3-year-old daughter outside in the car while he went in the apartment to grab a tool or something.  The car was running, and she was able to put it into gear and clip our car before he stopped it.  Oh yeah, that just happened.

So, I of course ran upstairs and made Douche come out and deal with it.  His way of dealing with it was telling the guy that if he’d fix it, we wouldn’t file a report or anything and no one’s insurance company would have to be called.  Needless to say, it never got fixed, and that bumper was still like that the day we traded it in.  You’d think we’d have learned.

Stay tuned for part two!

 

 

Yeah, I Got ALL Scrappy! AKA – The Fracas of ‘07

 

Okay, here it is, the entry you’ve all been waiting for.  Okay, at least Honeywine has.  The big one.  This is the account of what happened on July 10, 2007.  I was visiting home for the first time since my separation.  My kids had been visiting their grandparents for a month, and I hadn’t seen my husband for a month.  My soon-to-be-ex-in-laws were treating me like crap, and I was visiting my dad.  My sister and her soon-to-be husband (A.) were there visiting at the time, too.  Her fiance had never met our dad or step-mother, and boy did he get the full experience!  Here’s my journal entry from that night.

Today was very rough.  Yesterday, Dad, E., A., and I went downtown to look for cheap wedding stuff.  It was really nice to be able to spend the day alone with Dad without C.D. up his ass.  Today E. and A. are flying home, so I was headed back over to Honeywine’s house anyway.  I was sad because the boys had gone back with mom, and I knew I wouldn’t see them again for at least a week or two, and now E. was leaving, too. 

As we were putting all of our things in the cars, Dad and I were the only ones outside in the driveway.  Since I hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to him alone the whole time, I kind of unloaded on him.  I told him how hard this week has been and how hurt I was by Douche’s family, as well as how much C.D.’s comments and the way she treated the boys and me bothered me.  Dad hugged me and I put my head on his shoulder.  (I was sobbing at this point.)

C.D. came flying – yes, flying – out of the door and started yelling about how it was “inappropriate” for me to “hang all over” my father, how we have an “inappropriate relationship”, and other such bullshit.  This was all in the front yard.

Dad grabbed her by the arm and started yelling at her, asking why she was treating me this way and how she could say things like that.  She told him that I was snotty and rude to her.  She actually said, “I dont understand it because everyone else likes me.” (!!!)  I lost all rational thought when she said that.  I said, “None of us like you,” meaning my sisters and me, our husbands/boyfriends/anyone we know.  In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I don’t care.  I’m glad I finally told her what I thought about her.  She went on to flat out lie to my father about something that happened with Big J and then lied to me about telling my dad he could come visit me. 

I never thought I’d see him ever stand up to her.  He called her out on how she could drop everything at a moments notice to see her daughter and expect him to tag along, but they never had time/money to come see his family.  I was glad he stood up for us, it’s something he hasn’t done the whole time they’ve been married.  I hope he’ll stand his ground with her.  I’m pretty sure he won’t, though.

It seems lately like everyone is disappointing me.  I was so upset this morning, it took me forever to stop crying.  I honestly think that the hardest part was not having Douche there to talk to about it.  I miss him so much.  I miss having someone to lean on.  I miss my best friend.  Obviously, it was an illusion anyway.

So that was the big fight between my step-monster and me.  Imagine if I hadn’t been on antidepressants!  I might have had to cut a bitch!!!! 

I’ve seen my dad and C.D. once since this happened, at my younger sister’s wedding in January.  They flew in on Friday for the wedding on Saturday, then left Sunday morning.  The only thing I said to her the whole time was, “No, the kids are not getting a blessing during communion.  They aren’t Catholic.”  My mom told me I should have said that we were raising them in the Wicca religion.

At this point, I’m scheduled to head back down for a few days in July.  I’m really, really not looking forward to it.  I told my dad I would be there from July 2-5, but now I’m thinking I really don’t want to spend that much time in C.D.’s presence.  For some reason, she refuses to let him do things on his own.  Grrrr.  I may cut it down to one day and one night spent at their house.  The only problem with that is, my dad gets his feelings hurt and thinks I don’t want to spend time with him…or he’ll lay on a guilt trip about how he never gets to see his grandsons.  I’ll figure it out, I guess.

The best thing about this trip is that I get to see Honeywine in the ghetto trailer!!!!  I’m definitely looking forward to that.  I get to meet Pascal!  Jealous?

Dum dum dum….foreshadowing!

Okay, okay…so I was going to tell you about the big fight in this post…BUUUUUUT in reading my journal, I realized that this part couldn’t be left out.  Therefore, I’m doing two posts.  This is an entry from the day before the big blowup:

Today was a very long day, with C.D. being a complete bitch the whole time.  E.*, the boys, and I went to our childhood church and Dad came along.  C.D. went to mass instead.**  She made everyone breakfast and then complained about it.  We saw a lot of people we hadn’t seen in years.  It was good to go back.

Afterward, we came back to the house and waited for C.D. to get home.  I kept asking Dad if there was anything we should do to start lunch, or if we needed to go to the store to pick something up.  He said no, C.D. was bringing home stuff to cook and had it all planned out.***  She didn’t get here until 1:30.  We were all starving by this point.****  So, she goes to cooking and complaining about how she has to do everything.  (It was soup and grilled cheese sandwiches….gee, 3 adults and 2 kids couldn’t have handled that on their own). 

As soon as we were done eating, we jumped in the car to go to NASA.  We didn’t get there until about 3:30.  Today is a Sunday, so they were closing at 6.  Not much time.  I think Little J must’ve stayed up 1/2 the night last night because he complained about everything, which only made C.D. treat him/his brother/everyone that much worse. 

When we left at closing time, Dad said they were going to take us out to dinner.  That was a surprise, although as tired as the boys were I didn’t think it was a great idea.  It was a nice dinner, anyway…probably mostly because C.D. sat at the opposite side of the table.  She actually didn’t understand what was going on when the waiter scraped the crumbs from the table with the little scraper.  Hahahahahahahaha.  At least there was that little laugh.  I don’t think she said more than 2 words to me the whole time.  Oh, well. 

As soon as we got back to the house, she went straight to bed.  No “goodnight,” no “fuck you,” nothing.  Dad just looked at me and said, “Well, C.D.’s hard to live with.”  I told him that she made me feel very unwelcome in their home.  He said, “You’re always welcome here.”  I told him that I love seeing and spending time with him, but I can’t stand being around her.  I also told him that I miss him.  He knows how hard this separation/divorce is for me, maybe more that anyone else.  I’m glad I’ll be back at Honeywine’s house soon.

 

*My younger sister.

**Did I mention she’s a religious zealot, who thinks all non-catholics will go to hell?  She also fancies herself a martyr.

***There is always food in their house, but damned if you can ever find anything to eat.  Most of the things in the refrigerator have expired, and you’re left with lots of mixes and things.  My father couldn’t even find anything for us to eat in his own house!

Cruella Deville

Since I decided to write about the monster that is my step-mother after reading Honeywine’s post about hers, I figured I’d give y’all a little background first. 

My parents were together for 25 years, until I was 18 and had already moved out of the house.  Pretty much my mother just left one day after having been unhappy for a very long time.  To my father, of course, it came out of the blue and he was devastated.  Yelling and all around nastiness ensued, and unfortunately my younger sister, then 16, witnessed more than she should have.

I rushed home as fast as I could (I lived in Georgia at the time) to be there for my dad.  We stayed about a week, and I made sure to call him at least once a week after that to check on him.  This all happened in October.  By January, he told me how he had reconnected with an old girlfriend from high school.  He said she was a friend, and he enjoyed having someone to talk to.  I thought, “That’s great, I’m glad he has someone”.  Boy, was I wrong!!!  In February, I came back home to go to my cousin’s wedding.  My younger sister was there, too, and Dad told us that his friend, C.D., would be coming with us.  He told us (exact words) that, “she’s not beautiful like your mom…she has a face like a train wreck, but she’s got a good heart”.  Okay, you can stop laughing now, I know it’s funny.  This was the first time we’d met her, and she was just as nice as could be.  I was really glad that my dad had someone to distract him from what was going on with my mother.  I still called him every weekend and he would tell me how he’d gone with C.D. to her daughter’s soccer games (she was 13 or 14 at the time…he never came to any of our school functions) and how they’d gone and done this and that.  Again, still thankful he had someone.  The most important thing you should know about C.D. is that she is completely two-faced. 

My mother served divorce papers in February.  I was actually there with my dad the day they were delivered, and I’m pretty sure it was Valentine’s Day.  Ouch, huh?  Over the next few months, he was always doing something with C.D., at least on the weekends.  He told me that they planned on dating for a year, and if they were still together at the end of the year, they’d probably get married.  Weird, I thought, but no big deal.  Wrong again.  They ended up getting married in August.  I think it was something like two weeks after my parents’ divorce was finalized. 

This was a shock!  C.D. is Catholic, my father was not.  She and my father tried to get my mother to sign anullment papers so that they could be married in the Catholic church.  Rightly, I think, my mother refused.  She’s not Catholic, either, and if she signed them, basically it would make my sisters and me bastard children in the eyes of their church.  So, they got married in the Methodist church (where my father attended).  She also moved her daughter and foster children into my childhood home.  You see, C.D. took in foster kids for the money, not because of any want to help people.  It also made her look good for the people at church.  Now, when I left home, my parents were still together, and I left a lot of my childhood things in my room.  Journals, letters, clothes, shoes, toys, etc. etc.  My two sisters did, too.  Right before the wedding, C.D. and her daughter (who at this point was a spoiled snot-nosed brat who told my sister she wanted to sleep with my husband) went through all of OUR stuff and decided what should be thrown away and what was going outside on the porch.  We were then told that we had to go through these things and take what we wanted, and the rest was going to be thrown away because they had to make room for the other kids.  This was the first blow and when the distance between my father and me started.  How could he let a stranger go through our personal things?

Over the last 8 years, there have been so many times when I’ve bitten my tongue for my father’s sake.  Pretty soon after they were married, Douche, the kids, and I moved away to Hawaii for three years.  That helped.  They did come to visit once, though, and that in and of itself is a whole other nightmare.

I was clearing out an old email account recently and came across this email.  It pretty much shows C.D.’s true colors.  By this time, Douche and I were living in Louisiana, only a 2 1/2 hour drive from Dad’s house.  Our kids have always been involved in sports, but since we had always lived so far away from family, no one ever got to watch them play but us.  We invited Dad and C.D., as well as my in-laws to come visit any chance they got.  I think Dad came twice in 2 years, and always only stayed for the shortest time possible (thanks to C.D.)  She would never let him come alone, yet never wanted to be there.  The reason for this email was that my dad had offered to babysit the kids for mine and Douche’s anniversary.  I had suggested they pick the boys up on Saturday, stay for their ball games, and visit, then take them home.  I would pick them up on Sunday afternoon.  This is the response I got from C.D.:

What if C.D. leaves our house on Friday, March 3 at 4, meets Ginger with the boys in Jasper and takes the boys home, then on Sunday about 3 meet ya’ll in Jasper we have dinner together and all return home. That would give you guys Friday night, Saturday and Sunday morning together and we could have time with the boys and all visit over dinner on Sunday. Let Dad know how you feel about that. We are not coming that Saturday to Louisiana to visit with you. C.D. and Dad

Yes, “not” was italicized and underlined.  What a bitch, huh?  She also wrote me a letter not long after they got married telling me how I didn’t appreciate my dad and her daughter was so lucky to have him in her life…blah, blah, blah.  I thought that was strange, since her daughter always told me how much she disliked my dad.  Also, out of my Dad’s kids, I was the only one who ever took the time to call him or visit him.  Huh.

There have been many other instances…culminating in a huge fight last summer when I visited.  I’ll share the details of that with you soon. 

Get it?  It’s a cliff-hanger!

Our Story

Okay, so this weekend I was going to write about a blow-up I had last year with my step-mother, but I was going to use my journal and I LEFT IT AT WORK!!!  Yipes!  Luckily, it’s locked up in my desk.  So, I’m going to use another idea I had, which was to write about the story of how Honeywine and I became BFFs.  I figured that would be interesting to you, since most of you read her page, too, and are only here because she pointed the way! If it’s not, sorry I’m boring you.  We’ll get back to the soap-opera style stuff soon enough.

You may be surprised to know that Honeywine and I have only known each other since about 2005.  We met cute, kind of like a movie when the boy meets the girl.  We were both dragged to a barbecue by our husbands (hers soon-to-be) at another soldier’s home.  (Read: trailer)  She and M. had been there a while because I made Douche wait until a little later to go.  At the time our kids were 9 and 5, and they were going to be the only kids there amidst all the drunken soldiers/barracks rats.  (FYI:  barracks rat is the term soldiers/family members use for the skanky girls who sleep their way through the barracks on a military base.)  As we pulled up, I saw a lady I’d never met before.  She was standing behind a lawn chair, looking completely bored as two guys talked.  I didn’t know anyone at the party, so as Douche went off to talk with all his buddies and play football with the kids (i.e. show off for the barracks rats), I found a lawn chair and pulled up to some of the other ladies.  I sat there for a while as these two vapid 20-year-olds talked about sex clubs in Germany.  It’s kind of hard to jump into THAT conversation.  I noticed that Honeywine was standing all alone.  I figured, “Hey, she’s probably more interesting than these two beyotches.”  I was right!!! 

We talked for a little bit outside where I learned that she was a local girl, that she was going to be getting married soon, and that her fiance was also going to be deployed to Iraq shortly thereafter.  I also learned that the girl is brilliant!  Since it was August (I’m pretty sure it was August, anyway) in Louisiana, we figured we should go inside where there was air conditioning.  I mean, were we really the only people there who DIDN’T want to be covered in sweat?  This was the first time in my “Army” life that I’d met someone who wasn’t a brainless twit who believed everything the government said.  Not to say that I didn’t have other friends who were Army wives, just that some of our ideals were not the same.  We were definitely going to be pals.  By the time we broke out the Trivial Pursuit towards the end of the night, I think we were the only sober adults in the joint.  I also think we were the ones having the most fun.  It was a little weird when I asked her for her phone number.  (I mean, I had never liked anyone enough to do that before!)  After that, we got to be very close friends.  It was not too long before Hurricane Rita struck our part of the world, and her sister even came by to see if our family needed any food or water.  (Thanks, Lulu!)

When M. left for Iraq, I tried to come to her apartment as often as possible.  I usually had the kids, but we did our best to ignore them.  There were even girls’ nights!  Most of the time it was just the two of us, though, as the other girls we knew were flakes.  We always ended up watching some scary movie, ensuring that I would be really scared on the way home.  She shares my affinity for celebrity gossip and mystical things.  She tells me I look frumpy if I’m not all bling-ed out.  She is always there for me, no matter what.

Honeywine is the person I leaned on the most when my marriage fell apart.  I knew I could call her in the middle of the night if I had to, and there were times when I did, much to the chagrin of M., but I think he’s over it now.  One instance that comes to mind was a day or two after I found out about C*nt.  I knew Douche was working all night, so I went to his truck, opened it up, and went through all the stuff that was in it.  I found a paper declaring his love for C*nt, what they were going to name the baby they were going to have together, and a worksheet about divorce.  I was in a parking lot in my pajamas, sobbing uncontrollably and the only person I could call was Honeywine.  She also came to my rescue, literally, when she packed up M., Tina, and herself and drove from Louisiana to Georgia to help me pull it together.  That was last Memorial Day weekend.  When she walked through my door, I literally fell into her.  She and Tina helped me clean and organize things, and went to see my attorney with me.  She was also there to witness my panic attack when someone said that C*ntmight already be pregnant.  M. pretty much just watched T.V. and complained about Honey spending so much time with me.  Men just don’t get it.

She is also the only person in my life who told me that if I truly still wanted Douche, she’d help me get him back.  This meant the world to me.  Luckily, I eventually came to my senses and filed for divorce.

Last summer, I was lucky enough to spend a couple of weeks with H. and M. in the G.T.  It was the best time I had all summer.  I didn’t have to think about Douche or C*nt or divorce.  They tarted me up and took me to town and made sure I had fun, dammit!  They made my birthday special, too.  They (with the help of Mom, Tina, Dave, and Willie) made me a cake and dinner and had a few presents waiting to surprise me when we got home.  That day was so much fun.  We’d driven around a lot and were all tired and H. and I were VERY loopy.  So loopy, in fact, that everyone else thought we were drunk and/or high.  It was a blast!  People do the darndest things when they think you are out of it….

If you are lucky to have a friend like Honeywine, cling to him/her.  These are the lasting relationships in our lives, and we should cherish them.

From my birthday. 

This was the day she took me for a spa day.  I think she looks like a politician’s wife here.

 

 

Perspective

Last night, it was so very hard not to message HotD.  His birthday is today, and I had already sent a card off before Monday, so I couldn’t pull it back in.  I was practically sitting on my hands so I wouldn’t call or text him. 

I began to remember last year and how completely “dead” I was.  Back when all the crap started with Douche, I was urged to start writing a journal.  I did so just about every day for June and July.  I wrote down all of the things that I couldn’t say to him, because he either wouldn’t take my calls or wouldn’t listen.  It did help.  I hadn’t gone back and read any of the pages until last night.  I was able to read the words and remember what it felt like when I wrote them.  By the same token, I realized that I’m not that girl anymore.  Perhaps It’s Me Penelope’s post inspired this, who knows?

The following is an excerpt from my journal, dated 6/6/07:

Saw Douche today.  He actually showed up at Little J’s game tonight.  He wanted his ACU cap (he’s a soldier) and a list of all our expenses.  I was firm with him and tried not to let him manipulate me.  I do still feel sorry for him*.  He’s so lost right now.  Lost to me, lost to the boys, lost to his family, even himself. 

I miss him so much and it’s hard to be so close to him and not be able to touch him or really even talk to him about what matters.  He still doesn’t think he owes me an explanation for what he’s done.  I really do want that and he still can’t face up to it.**  That makes me so angry and so hurt that he can’t even do that for me.  I realize now that he never loved me the same way I loved him.  He took me for granted from day one without a thought as to what he was doing. 

I hate that my kids are going through this.  I hate it that no one in his family has called to check on us.  I don’t want to lose them.  I love them as my own. 

He never respected me, not from the beginning.  I need a man who will respect me and love me for who I am, not who he wishes I were.  An honest man who I won’t have to wonder if he’s actually telling me the truth when I ask him a question.  Someone who won’t drag my boys down if they make a mistake at school or in the ballgame.

I hope I can be friends with Michael one day because I love him.  I have since I was 14 years old.  I think it will take a long time, though.

*Man, I’m a sucker.

**He still has yet to admit anything, even while remarried and with a baby on the way, he is still denying they are married.  DOUCHEBAG!

 

I still can’t believe how blind I was all those years!  Reading this did give me some perspective, though.  I have been through worse.  This breakup with HotD has been somewhat easy, except at night when I would’ve been talking to him.  I guess it’s like any other addiction, the habit is hard to break.  I feel better today.

While typing this here, I realize again that I am so glad to be done with Douche, at least on a day to day basis.  Since he’s a soldier, he lives in Alabama while I live in Indiana with my family.  I’ve only had to see him at Christmas and on Spring Break, and I’ll have to see him in the summer.  I’m looking forward to setting eyes on the c*nt in all her pregnant, stretch-marked, water retaining, splendor.  I’ve never met the ho in person before.  You can be damn sure I’ll be looking my best when I meet her, though.  Small victories, eh?

 <——-Words of wisdom, those are!

You’re kidding me, right?

 

Do I have a sign on my back that says, “break my heart”?  Today, it feels that way.

A few weeks ago, I had a big blowup with my boyfriend, HotD.  We’ve been dating since the beginning of December, and hadn’t had so much as an argument before this happened. 

Up until I met HotD, I was pretty much lifeless.  I played the part of Mom.  I pretended to be okay.  Fake it to make it, right?  I was still mourning the loss of my marriage, my home, and my future.  A little melodramatic, but true nontheless. 

At the urging of Honeywine, I made up a MySpace complete with fake name, new email address, and saucy pictures.  This was just for fun.  Kind of an exercise to show myself I was still desireable.  Plus, despite going out to a really fun piano bar just about every weekend with my sister, I had yet to have one guy ask for my number, let alone talk and flirt with me.  I was desperate people!!!

I made tons of “internet friends”, and had a few guys that I talked to pretty regularly.  I began to look forward to coming home and chatting with people.  I went on two dates with S, who had lots of money and loved to show it off.  The first date was fun, but by the second date, I was soooo over his money-flaunting.  Then, along came HotD.  After him, everyone else just faded away.

We liked the same books and music, and I love the way he looked.  He wrote his own songs and sent me videos of himself singing them.  I sure did want to meet him.  We talked online for a few weeks, every night, and found we had a lot in common.  There was never a lull in conversation, never even any sex talk…at least not until we’d actually met in person a few times.

We decided to meet in person and from the first date, we were pretty much inseperable.  We saw each other about 3 times a week or more, and it never got boring, and more importantly…we never got annoyed by each other.  We would talk on the phone every night, usually for at least an hour.  Still, we never ran out of things to talk about. 

He said “I love you” first.  He was completely smitten.  I have pictures where you can see it in his eyes.  For Christmas, he sang me two songs he’d written for me.  He called me Doll.  He treated me so sweetly in a way that my ex-husband never did.  I fell in love.  I felt like a woman.  That may seem weird, as I’m 27, but for the first time I felt like I was in an adult relationship.  I wasn’t jealous, I was confident in myself, in him, and in us together.  My heart was finally not hurting anymore.  I could see the sunshine again. 

Since this whole incident between us, we have seen each other three times.  For two weeks, we didn’t see each other at all, although we talked through text messages and email and still maintained our declarations of love for one another.  He still wanted everything he did before this happened, future-wise.  So did I.

On Sunday, the 11, the called me and told me he was miserable not seeing me.  I felt the same way.  So, we got together for a short time on Tuesday, then he came over on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday.  Everything seemed back to normal.  I felt more determined than ever that we were going to be okay.  Who cares what everyone else thinks, right?  Screw ‘em.  We knew what we wanted, and we weren’t going to let anyone stand in our way. 

Apparently, I was wrong.  Even though I felt that way, he wasn’t so sure anymore.  That things weren’t the same.  Something was missing. 

What?!?!?!?!?!  I went from having a great day to everything being wrong in a matter of seconds.  When the incident happened, I was completely adult about it.  I didn’t yell, didn’t blame, and didn’t show my anger.  Not this time.  Now I am PISSED OFF, goddammit!!!

We did the whole back and forth thing yesterday, and some last night.  I still don’t know what the hell happened, and probably never will.  I’m mad that I am so hurt by this.  I’m mad that I am single again.  I’m mad that I loved him.  I’m mad that I let myself. 

I have definitely been through bad things before and came out the other side just a little more cynical.  Damn, I hate being cynical.  And mother f***er, I hate feeling like this.

A Bundle of Joy….or something like that

Wow.  Two posts in one night!  Alert the media!  As far as Baby Mama drama goes, I’ve got another one for ya.  This one involves the other Baby Mama, a.k.a C*nt.

As I said in my first post, my ex is remarried to the woman he cheated on me with.  One of many, apparently, but this one stuck.  I have no idea how long they have been together, only that they were married almost exactly a month after our divorce was finalized.  That’s not really what this post is about, though.

This one is about the fact that my kids are going to have a new little sister soon.  In fact, in about 4 months or so the little one will be popping out.  I’m hoping it will bring lots and lots of pain to it’s mother.  Is that so wrong of me?  Actually, I wish it would come out of it’s father’s you-know-what.  He’s the one I’m really ticked off at. 

What gets me is, Douche and C*nt didn’t find it necessary to tell my kids they were getting a new sibling until a month ago.  In fact, my kids didn’t even know that their father was living with C*nt until I told them the week before they went to visit. 

So now there will be a baby.  A new little person who I don’t know but is related to my children.  What a strange feeling.  Will she look like my kids?  Probably, considering C*nt looks like a low-rent version of me.  Not like we could be sisters or anything, but there are some similarities.  (Why do men do that???)

Douche called on Sunday (mother’s day) to tell the boys that it was a girl.  He should be happy, he always wanted a girl.  I asked them how they felt about it all, and the 8-year-old said, “At least it’s not another brother.  I don’t want another brother.”  The 12-year-old said, “It won’t make much difference because we aren’t going to be around them anyway.”  How sad is that? 

When the boys went to visit on spring break, I gave them 2 disposable cameras each to “take pictures” (a.k.a. show Mommy what’s really going on).  Through these pictures, I found out that there was, in fact, a wedding ring on Douche’s finger, even though he had denied it and wasn’t wearing it when we swapped the kids.  I also found out that things that were left behind due to lack of room in the moving truck were now in residence at Maison de Douche et C*nt (some of the items are circled in the picture below).  That’s a weird feeling. 

 

The capper on this wonderful news came on Monday night.  My oldest son shared the little detail that his dad and step-mother are thinking about naming the baby Taylor.  I really like that name.  In fact, that’s what we were going to call our youngest if he had been a girl.  How tacky is that???

Baby Mama Drama (I don’t want it!)

I’m a horrible blogger.  Thing is, I just don’t set aside time for it.  Thoughts pop into my head about things I should write about, but by the time I get home from the ball game or karate or work, I can’t remember what it is I didn’t want to forget.  So tonight, I’ll just write about my latest rant….baby mama drama.

When I got divorced, I knew I didn’t want it.  I told my BFF, Honeywine, that If I got married again it would be to a rich, childless man who had never been married before.  HA!  Six months after my divorce was finalized, I’m dating a guy with A: an ex-wife (they have been divorced for 6 years)  and B:  a child.  (READ: DANGER!)  All I can say in my defense is that I hadn’t had sex in what seemed like an eternity and this guy is s-m-o-k-i-n’ with a capital “S”.  I call him HotD.  He is also very sweet and tender in a way that my ex never was.  He is head over heels in love with me, and who am I to argue?  He treats me like a princess and thinks everything I do is adorble (again, not arguing).  We see each other every chance we get, and spent a week together when my kids visited their dad on spring break. 

Therein lies the problem.  I had been around his son a lot, albeit in small doses.  He is rowdy and needs a lot of attention.  A few weeks ago, he came and spent the weekend with his dad, me, and my boys.  Throughout the weekend, I had to bite my toungue many, many times.  I did not, however, bite it when this adorable little boy retorted, “eat me” when I told him to take his plate to the sink and rinse it off after dinner.  I told him that it was unacceptable and that was that.  (Or so I thought). 

Cut to three weeks later, and this child has apparently told his mother that I hate him, don’t want him around, or something to that effect.  She now has declared that her son is not allowed anywhere near me.  (YIKES I might teach him some manners or something…the absolute HORROR!) 

The problem I have with this, or at least the biggest one, is that I did nothing to warrant this reaction.  I have always been patient with this boy.  I have always tried to include him as much as I could.  I am, by all accounts of those who know me, a very kind and loving person.  The Baby Mama has never met me, so how can she decide that I am a danger to her child? 

For crying out loud!  My ex married the woman he left me for as soon as it was legally possible, and my boys have been around her.  I haven’t gone ape shit and said my kids can’t be around C**T.  I have actually done the whole “grown up” thing and tried to encourage a good relationship with her.  At least outwardly, because Lord knows I secretly want them to hate her.  No matter what my feelings are toward her or my ex, I have to put them aside so that my kids can have a relationship with their father.  I am completely frustrated by this admonition by the Baby Mama.  I just want to scream “YOU DON’T KNOW ME!”

I know it wouldn’t help, but, well, ya know.  GAH!  Don’t want no Baby Mama drama, that’s for sure.