Patience

As I sit here staring at the screen the song, "45" by Shinedown is resonating in my skull. I have made so many decisions and I'm dealing with the results of it all. I have chosen to live my life on a scale that is more than "settling." I'm dealing with judgements given based on information that was laced with lies. I have had to realize that life is never going to be what I dreamt it would be.

Send away for a priceless gift

One not subtle, one not on the list

Send away for a perfect world

One not simply, so absurd

In these times of doing what you're told

You keep these feelings, no one knows

What ever happened to the young man's heart

Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart

Growing up, I hungered for more than my parents provided. I wanted more from religion. I wanted to live a nicer life. I wanted to work at a younger age. I craved to have my own money. I wanted to go off to college. I wanted to experiment. I was afraid though and I fought my family...a lot. I learned a lot at college but I tried to hide what I was doing.

I was ashamed.

I was ashamed of my home.

My family.

My lack of means.

I worked 3 jobs babysitting, daycare, and at the campus.

I wanted to run away from home and I was old enough to vote.

Fear stopped me.

That is, until I embraced that a lover or partner could "save" me more than religion.

I ran off with the first person I had a major relationship with.

I went from one bad environment to another bad environment... It just wasn't "as bad."

And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

I got married way too soon.

I tried to solve the bad marriage with a child.

I was horrified once I realized I was bringing another human into my life...

One that would need me more than I needed myself.

I couldn't even find happiness in the fact that I had a decent job, an apartment, and was doing pretty well.

When I saw the little human bouncing around during the ultrasound, I fell in love. I had a baby growing inside of me.

I was going to be a mother and I was determined to be the best.

Send a message to the unborn child
Keep your eyes open for a while
In a box high up on the shelf, left for you, no one else
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight

I had my son and I realized that life was so much more than I was raised to believe.

Life is precious.

Life is frail.

Life is extremely short when we look at how long our planet has been in existence.

My son almost died after his birth.

I realized how powerless I am.

He survived because he is a fighter.

My son will change the world.

I'm going to help him succeed in this.

As he grew from infant to toddler, my marriage fell completely apart.

I moved on and for a while, life felt like it was going in a good direction. I met a fantastic man. My son was doing better without so much stress. It was hell but it was worth moving on!

Then my ex-husband fought me for custody with the financial backing of his mother.

What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart

After years, literally, of fighting for custody...

I lost.

Oh sure...

I have 49% custody...

That is logistically STUPID since he lives 85 miles away.

No one understands why a mother is the non-custodial parent.
Especially since I'm not a crackhead, not a felon, not a psycho, and I seem like a good person.

I know for a fact, due to drunken confessions, that most people think there is something that I haven't told them about my life that caused me to lose custody.

Simple fact, I lost because I didn't have money. My attorneys were pro-bono and had never stepped foot into a family law courtroom. We all had this glossy vision of how a court of law obeys rules, believes truth, and what the hell, it is a "mother friendly state."

Everyone's pointing their fingers
Always condemning me
And nobody knows what I believe
I believe

Life has gotten better, of sorts.

My son is learning how vastly different the homes are that he lives between.

He knows that we live independently of grandparents - unlike his father.

He realizes that we love and support him.

He knows that we want is best for him.

Yet I have to sit back and watch him live in a semi-squalor state.

I'm trying my best to make sure I am doing my part to be a good mom.

No matter how many years have passed...

My heart still breaks when I leave him at that household.

The drive to and from work even is filled with questions of why my life isn't what I had imagined.

A mother is supposed to have a child in her arms. I'm supposed to wipe his tears and kiss away the pain. He needs the hugs good night, the hair cuts, the clipped nails, the new shoes, the scrubbed neck, so many parts of life that are taken for granted... I'm supposed to be doing that.

Instead...

I'm the voice on the other end of the phone... Listening to his heart break, his laughs, his stories, and simply sharing thoughts or moments over the phone.

For now I have to be patient.

Changing takes time.

I have a lot of compassion for weekend parents though.

It is amazing what a bitter ex will do.

It is equally amazing what their family will do to help.

My family sat back and let Manbeast & I take the fall.

So I am waiting.

I feel the judgement and some day I'll move past it.

And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

Where do I start?

It has been a long few months since I last posted. Summer started, we went on our first family vacation - Florida, summer ended and the boy started 2nd grade, work is frustrating but I'm fortunate to have a job, and I'm learning to trust more.

I'm terrible at trusting. I love nearly all the trust I had when I lost custody... I'm a damned good mom and I know it...

Point being...

An old HS classmate of Manbeast's stopped by today. We spoke of a few things and quickly reestablished the rapport. This man has had a tough road to be on in life. Something was mentioned and Manbeast said that I get all bent out of shape about the subject. I tried explaining. In less than 10 minutes, I was in tears... Not of shame. Tears that I hide. Tears that I bottle in and tears that I feel ashamed of.


Growing up, tears were a sign of weakness. I got spanked for it. We cried at church and it was ok there. But I didn't like crying. Ever. And I tend to be a cryer! Imagine that.
I cried so little that if I ever cried more than a few tears...I would get blisters on and around my eyelashes. It was painful to cry.

I started crying today and when I wiped away, I was asked - "Why do you wipe them away...". I finally admitted to be ashamed of crying. I was told, each tear that falls is a path that is now cleansed.

I hate talking about my own fears. I apply my own fears, other people's fears, and just plain idiotic things to my life. I care so much about acceptance. I spend too much time worrying about losing that I lose... I lose sight of what really matters.
I lose sight of what happens everyday.

I had an unexpected therapy session and realize I have some more cleaning up to do.

I have some cleansing to get done.


P.S., watching the space shuttle launch was amazing! It hurts to know the program is over.

Superiffic Saturday

As a child, I always odd.

I really mean odd.

When mom sent us out to ride our bikes, I would walk down to an old neighbor's house to drink "coffee" with her. She mix loads of cream and sugar into the tiniest bit of coffee and we'd talk. She was alone. Nowadays I don't even remember what she spoke about, just the warm house with tiny flower wallpaper and wood panelling. She served me on real china! I felt so grown up.
I was 4.

When we moved to the country - I hid in literature of all sorts, dreamed of fantastical places with my barbies, shot at things with my bb gun, and hung out on the aged bridge over the creek. I had few friends in school, was not incredibly close to children at our church, and became closest of friends with my pets until I was about 13.

I excelled in school once I was able to break past my sister's impression (she was a tad wild). I was awkward, cried easily, and a perfectionist in regards to my schoolwork. I adored writing and art.

These days, I still love both of those subjects.

I would wind myself up so much about school as a child that I would be a nervous wreck.

Now, I help with presentations to gifted children.

We teach origami. This works great for about ages 9-12.

Last year we had 7 year olds in our class amongst 9-12 yr olds.

2 threw up and 4 cried...

It was intense.

This year...

We had the right ages...

No puking, no tears, and in fact - one young man asked Manbeast, "Are you positive that you will be able to teach me something new today?"
Manbeast replied, "Can you promise me that you will be my best student?"
Silence


BTW, Rango was AWESOME!!!
How's your weekend?

It's A Crime I Tell Ya!

So a quick update...

Got a cat for my Valentine's Day present...

Igmu Sapa...

We call him...

Iggy...

He is the great black panther of Katy...

His favorite companion is a 6 year old native named, "The Boy."

The friend he wants to connect with so badly...

Alex...17 and blind as...well, even bats aren't this blind.

Iggy's favorite place to be, loving someone.

Iggy's next favorite place...

Having a kitten has been a challenge and we love it. Our old guy has livened up, with the help of catnip and lots of patience. We've had to kitten proof the house a bit.

Tonight was different.

Tonight we had a CATastrophe...

I left nail polish on a mantle...2 weeks ago. It was closed and all that. I just forget to put them up.

I got home from work, relaxed, showered, helped with a video edit, recounted my day, planned my next day for PR and appointments...

I wanted to go have tacos with some good friends but changed my mind because I'd a wiener when I get tired. I figured I'd take an evening off...

Got ready to enjoy a movie and some wine...

Got manbeast settled into the jacuzzi...

Got a call from my best girl...

While on the phone with my best gf, looking for my missing car keys...

I smelled something weird.

The kitten was acting like he just saw a snake and was hissing a bit...

Then I pulled his kitty high rise away from the wall to see...

As I felt at least 4 small vessels in my brain pop...

I started freaking out, a little.

"OMG WHAT THE EFF HAPPENED..." I snapped pics and sent the gf...

I was freaking out and trying to figure out how to not have kitty pate created by the Manbeast...

I told him casually that some polish got on the tile...

I might have failed to mention the moulding & wall...

I ran off to Home Depot - which is a true madhouse that fakes out being closed by turning off the exterior lights??

I picked up some weapons to clean the CATastrophe...

Goof Off is the only one that worked.

It was great on the moulding since the paint is oil based...

As you can see, Goof Off is not so great for my textured walls...

Alex made me feel like he wanted to tell me, "I told you he was stupid..."

Iggy, of course, was sweet and innocent.

Manbeast was almost CATatonic when he saw what really happened...

This mild alterCATion was something we can move on from...

It will however be CATaloged...

And if it happens again, we will make CATsup from our feline foe...

By the way, Goof Off is almost intoxiCATing after 10 minutes.

Have fun and kisses to my lovelies.

(I have more to write but it is already 12:30am!)

Til next time,

BLONDIECAT!