.. because you asked

… so I’ve gotten some pretty interesting questions since I started posting again.

They MAY have come from WordPress, come to think of it, to KEEP me posting. Dunno! :)

But some have come from :: who knew! :: readers who’ve been reading for a long time.

Imagine that!

Of interest was the reaction of both Weed and the GF (still can’t think of an appropriate tag for her) when I asked her about being with a deadbeat when her own son’s father wasn’t in his life.

I wasn’t looking at Weed so I don’t know what his “face” looked like but I can say :: most surprisingly :: that the GF responded that she’s been telling Weed to spend more time with T3. To which, Weed replied that it’s been tough because he really doesn’t have any money. TO WHICH I replied that phone calls are free.. and so is the park.. and so is Sunday dinners at my house.

The GF had mentioned earlier that her car was being worked on because of a minor fender bender that left the rear off-centered but she did tell Weed that they could take public transportation down to my house. No easy feat considering where they live and where I live but at least appreciated that she was more pro then con with Weed being involved in his kid’s life.

To be fair :: there was too much ” grrr ” last night to be objective :: she seems like she’s an okay person. She lives with her parents, has a degree in elementary and special education and has a real job working with kids as an educator. She comes from a fairly affluent community :: which means absolutely nothing except that she isn’t living in a crack den :: and she met Weed in a program because she had become addicted to pain meds after a serious car accident a few years ago. On the surface, it would appear that if he had to be in a relationship with anyone at least this girl appears to have her priorities in order.

What I don’t know is if she is strong enough to handle Weed’s persuasions. Charm is built into these boy’s DNA :: from their father’s side :: and they’ve only been “in a relationship” :: according to Facebook :: since November 21st.

Yes, I stalk. Report me!

But.. as with everything.. time will tell.

I’ve also been asked what ever became of Elvis, Chief’s jailbird nephew who was was brought out to PA by Chief’s douchebag brother.

Not sure where I left off on THAT story.

The thumbnail is that Elvis has been in and out of jail for half his life and through Facebook, connected with his PA family for the first time. His mother had high-tailed out of the area when he was 6 months old and never had any contact with his father’s side of the family.

His douchebag uncle paid his way out here, put him up and basically treated him like a plantation slave.. never really giving him the opportunity to venture off the property to find work to sustain on his own. Couple that with alcohol and the fact that douchebag’s wife has an Oedipus complex and hates, hates, hates anybody or anything that diverts the douchebag’s attention away from her.. shit was a powder keg waiting to explode.

And it did.. one drunken night when Douchebag said something that Elvis took the wrong way and Captain Morgan set those powder kegs on fire.

Elvis was banished from the property.. his clothes dumped in a McDonald’s parking lot.. and he was left stranded in a state where he knew know one.

Of course, he knew me.. but communication between me and him stopped when he went to live with Douchebag. All extensions of hospitality were met with “sorry, can’t” or “busy” or whatever excuse came my way.

So I wasn’t in a too charitable mood when all of a sudden he’s blowing up my phone with text messages needing help.. money.. a place to stay.. etc.

However, I’m not heartless and sometimes the best way to help someone is to make them help themselves.

I reached out to a homeless shelter that’s affiliated with the Salvation Army. I explained the situation and they gladly offered him a place to stay, food, clothing vouchers, etc. while helping him find a job.

For someone who said that they were committed to turning their life around and all they needed was the opportunity, you’d think that one would take THIS opportunity and fly with it.

He flew alright.. all the way to Oklahoma.

What happened was he started to get too involved with the people he was living with.. all kinds of people who’s circumstances made them opportunists. I had told him to keep his head down and stay out of any issue that didn’t directly concern him. He didn’t listen and was either thrown out or asked to leave :: still don’t know which :: and since he was already working for a landscaping company :: that the shelter helped him get :: he decided he was going to get his own place.

According to his story, he had to sleep on the streets a few nights but finally was able to rent a room from a guy who had once been a resident of the shelter.. made good and now wanted to give back. He would rent rooms to those who were in the transition part of their lives.

His mother put up the first week’s rent because Elvis was between paychecks but sometime after he moved in, I get the phone call asking if I can help him because he didn’t get his check and his rent was due. I told him to talk to his landlord and explain.. even have his landlord talk to his boss. Something adult and reeking of responsibility.

Never knew what happened because the next thing I know is that he’s trying to get money for bus fare to Oklahoma because he had to leave right! away!.

Putting the puzzle pieces I had to work with in place, I think what happened was Elvis wanted to live his way and the landlord had rules regarding who or what goes on in his property. Elvis started posting pictures of tattoos he was doing and I’m sure the caliper of people who would get tattooed by someone like Elvis aren’t the kind of people the landlord wanted hanging around.

Elvis also has a quick temper and I’m thinking that something went down.. the police were called and he decided his best move was to get out of the state.

Don’t really know.. and really, don’t really care. I’ve been bit by the dog too many times to keep trying to pet him.

Elvis kind of fell off the face of the earth so I really can’t give you a current update.

… well, baby’s up from his nap which means my time no longer belongs to me!!!!

 

 

2013: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

It’s kinda messed up when WordPress sends you an email calling you a loser for hardly posting ANY.THING in 2013.

Like, really, WordPress? REALLY?

At any rate.. in keeping with the tradition, we’re going to trip the light fandango and re-hash 2013 “Leese-Style”.

OMG! But let me just say that maybe.. JUST maybe WordPress.. I’d post more if the damn site didn’t change every bloody time I logged on! Jeez.. I mean.. I’m getting too freakin’ old and too freakin’ busy to have to relearn everything.

Rant ended

Okay.. so anyway, here we go!

The Good
T3 is now 18 months of boy-monkey stuck on extreme. Climbing everything and racing around the house bouncing off of walls like pinball. No seriously. He’s made “bouncing off walls” an art form with the bruises to prove it. His pediatrician tells me this is all normal.. that little boys are made of rubber and the only way they smarten up is to bang every part of their body on every hard surface available.

Yeah.. ok.. but you can’t blame me for sticking one of those Michael-Jackson-Kid-Disguises on him when we’re in public. Why waste CYS’ time with an investigation, right?

NOTE: That was a joke, people.

Anyway…

So he’s talking up a storm in his own made-up language :: I have to make time to take the Rosetta Stone course :: but does say “Hi”; “MomMom”; “Baba”; “Juice”; “Teddy”; “FuckYouBitch”.

Okay.. so maybe the last one he says in his made-up language but believe me, the body language is QUITE clear!!

Given his beginnings, he is a very healthy, normal, well-adjusted kid who gives BIG HUGS and kisses unless he doesn’t want to and then he just squirms out of your arms saying “NO MOMMOM!”

I do believe him scarring me will be far worse then any scars he’ll have from me!

18 Months Ago

Today (well about a week ago)

As for me, I’m loving my job as a Revenue Cycle Manager for a company that has 10 medical practices nationally. Not sure how much ranting, bitching and complaining I’ve done since last year but the thumbnail is that the company I started working for in May 2011 was sold in December 2011 to a bunch of Southern gentleman who had issues with Yankee woman.

I’ll be kind and just leave it at that.

At any rate, these lovely :: vomit in my mouth :: Southern gentleman made the decision in February 2012 to close my office effective September 2012.

“Oh Shit!” you might say on my behalf but the one thing these Southern gentleman would not give us Yankee woman credit for is “moxy”.

Ok.. ok.. BALLS.

Just to make this a little easier to understand.. I work in the area of healthcare that provides a specialty service. When I worked for Company 1, there were very few people doing what we did and if they did.. they were no where NEAR as successful because Company 1 was owned by the “founding father” of the service. But in all things healthcare, it’s the biggest fish in the pond that has all the bars of gold. It’s difficult to have a privately held practice anymore and so Company 1 had the “For Sale” stuck to it and offers from Company 2 and Company 3.

Company 2 was a bunch of Southern Gents that thought that God held them as high as He did Jesus. Company 3 were newer to the industry and didn’t have as much money to hook the sale.

So I became a number in Company 2’s files.

But they didn’t like to play nice in the sandbox and more importantly, the didn’t know what they didn’t know so processes that proved very lucrative were abolished and our lives quickly spiraled down to Dante’s 6th level of hell.

And when I tell you we were miserable.. we were M.I.S.E.R.A.B.L.E.

So my boss.. the least liked of the Yankee woman.. went to Company 3 and said, “.. listen, if you want to be the biggest, baddest mother fuckers in the industry, take Company 2 down and make a whole bunch of money while doing it then I have a whole office of people that can start on Monday“.

And that’s basically what happened. We all gave our notices.. left on Friday and started working for Company 3 on Monday and it’s been awesome. Chaotic, yes. Plenty of WTF moments but the staff that came with us and the staff that we hired fit like puzzle pieces and we’ve been achieving great things.

Plus my boss is The. Best. CEO. Ever!

He’ll never ever ever ever read that but I know how blessed I am to not only be working but doing what I love and loving who I do it for.

For those of you who remember Consuela, I’m sad to say that she’s gone to the great RV park in the sky and was replaced with Estelle.

Okay.. so we raped Consuela for all her parts and appliances and rebuilt Estelle from the ground up but it was a necessity. Consuela was HUGE and was a pain in the ass to haul around. Plus, I was spending 75.00 bucks a pop to store her. Estelle fits nicely in our driveway.

As far as the kids go, I guess it would fit into the “good” category since adding “indifferent” to the title would just seem like a bitchy thing to do.

Spaz is 15 now.. doing better in school and really isn’t so much of a “spaz” anymore. I would change his name but after what? 7 years of calling him “Spaz” it would just be too confusing to change it. Most of his time is spent in his room on the computer. I don’t look in there. I’m afraid.

Bubba graduated high school this past June. A feat that was either going to have the angels singing or the four horseman clopping down the highway. He was suppose to enlist but didn’t. He was suppose to get a job but didn’t. He was still living with is friend’s family up until last week when he suddenly wanted to move in with Chief’s brother Sarge. Don’t know why. Don’t really care.

Weed is supposedly doing well (that indifferent thing again). From what I am made to understand :: let’s not get into that now :: he is living in a sober house, is working, has a girlfriend with a 6 year old daughter :: let’s NOT get into that now :: and less then hardly ever sees T3 let and never calls to ask how he is.

Bubba and Weed not being around definitely puts my life in the GOOD category!!

The Bad

I can honestly say that there hasn’t been any “bad” this past year.

Yes, things were hard. Money was tight. I’ve grieved for people I love who have passed on and have been aggravated, pissed of, sad, angry, depressed, etc. etc. etc.

But I really can’t say anything was “Bad”

Or maybe I’m intentionally blacking out the memory. :: shrug ::. I’ll take it!

The Ugly

The only thing that belongs here is T3’s mother. And no, I’m not referring to her looks :: although the Ronald McDonald red hair gives sooooo much fodder :: I’m referring to her involvement in T3’s life.

Let’s be blunt.

I want her no where near him.

But, ultimately, it’s Chief’s decision because he is the one with the custody. And let’s be frank, shall we? He doesn’t have the balls to keep her away the same why he didn’t have the balls to keep the Crack Whore away from his own kids. So he’ll trump me and it pisses me off and then I get pissed at him and then he gets stupid because he doesn’t get why I’m pissed and it’s this whole merry-go-round of drama that I’d rather avoid.

Tried the ride the first time and threw up my lunch, so.. You pick and choose your fights, yknow?

Anyway, on the flip side of that, I have to say that she actually has an interest in her son.. wants to spend time with him and buys him stuff when she can.

A HELLA lot more then Weed does.

She isn’t allowed take him anywhere on her own (I so won that battle) so when she does take him, she’s either with her sister (who’s a parent and a relative good standing member of society) and/or her mother who we see regularly because she cuts our lunch meat at the deli counter in the super market we go to. Pays to be friendly to the lady cutting your lunch meat.. even if you ARE raising her grandson with not one phone call, visit or offer to help with anything. So far there was a zoo trip, park trip, orchard trip and trick-or-treating.

Her sister passes along stuff like jackets and snow suits and things that her 4 year old son had grown out of and now that she’s working, she spent tons of money that she didn’t have to on buying T3 toys and clothes and stuffed animals for Christmas.

But do I really have to explain how my stomach twists inside and out when she’s around him or takes him somewhere?

And I guess that’s the root of it. I’m raising him. I do the dirty work. I put the blood, sweat and tears into raising a well adjusted boy so he won’t grow up to be a broken man. MY life came to a screeching halt 18 months ago when I lost the ability to sleep when I wanted, buy what I wanted, go where I wanted when I wanted, remove myself from the center of the universe and put T3 in my place… and I resent the fuck out of the fact that she can breeze in when she wants, play mommy when she wants and then goes back to living her life the way she wants to.

Don’t get me wrong.. I do NOT regret my grandson. I do NOT regret raising my grandson. Coming home from work and having him race across the room yelling “MomMom” is far better then any ugly she brings into the fold.

It just sucks.

It’s close to midnight so I hope every one of you has great things in store for you in the coming year. I hope you are blessed beyond your own limitations and that you and your loved ones are safe and prosperous in 2014!

 

Elvis Has Left The Building.. Kinda Sorta

I have to say this.

Anyone who knows me outside of this blog :: and some that know me only through this blog :: knows that when when push comes to shove, I’ll always do the right thing. And, I have a very strong moral compass. There’s just somethings you don’t do.. and things that you must maintain responsibility for especially when someone’s very existence is involved and even if things don’t turn out the way you wanted / hoped / thought.

Meet Elvis, Chief’s oldest nephew by his oldest brother, Houdini.

Houdini was young when he got Elvis’ mom pregnant :: come on, are you surprised?? :: and when Elvis was an infant, Houdini got into some kind of trouble with the law and booked. Just left his car wherever he had crashed it and took off to parts unknown. One of those “parts” happened to be the Philippines where he met a woman, may have or may not have married her and returned to the states.

From what I understand, he’s been in at least 40 of the 48 continental united and not only continued to spread his seed all over the damn place but does so under assumed names.

I honestly don’t think I want to know more then that.

Anyway..

Elvis’ mother left the area when Elvis was 6 months old.. hooked up with this guy and then that guy and wound up in a few different states before ending up in Vegas.

Elvis’ life was less then ideal. Never knowing his father. Never knowing that he had family who spent a great deal of time and money trying to find him before giving up when he was 6 because someone told someone who told someone else that Elvis had passed away.

What really happened was that Elvis’ mother had had another baby that, sadly, had died from SIDS and whoever the first “someone” was, didn’t really communicate the situation properly.

Elvis was a troubled kid who spent half his life (he’s now 30) in and out of jail for various reasons. Least of which was his inherited temper and need of anger management.

Last year, through the beauty of Facebook :: where else? :: Elvis started to loosely connect with the family his mother took him from… me being one of them.

And then he promptly went back to jail on a probation violation. Or a parole violation. I still don’t know what the difference is but he violated something and back in he went.

Me… being me.. and have this inane desire to heal wounded birds.. started writing to him in jail almost daily.. put money on his books every payday :: for those of you who haven’t had the fortune of supporting someone in jail, “putting money on the books” basically means adding money to his jail bank account so that he can buy things like deodorant, paper, envelopes, etc.).:: and basically filled him in on his family. I stayed in contact with his mother :: again, another FB connection :: and all his return mail was filled with optimism and how he was getting too old for this shit and how he wanted to change his life when he got out.

Now, I’m not fool. I know that people find God in war trenches and people in jail swear they’re going to change. But, like I said, I’ll give any one a second chance until they prove me wrong so while I was cautiously optimistic, I had every intent on doing whatever I could to help him out.

What I didn’t know then was that Elvis was also in contact with Chief’s OTHER brother, Douchebag.

NOTE: Chief has three brothers. Houdini is the oldest, Douchebag is the second born and then Chief and Sarge are the twins.

Douchebag is a douchebag for a lot of reasons. He thinks he is the center of the universe.. waxes poetic in 3am drunken rants about how important family is and how he’s the self appointed “patriarc” of the family (even though his father is still alive and kicking) but really doesn’t give a rats ass about anyone or anybody unless there’s something in it for him. He has one biological daughter, a lesbian with “daddy” issues that he can’t control :: she is 21 for Pete’s sake :: and does everything possible to make her life as miserable as she makes his. Let’s just say he has major issues.

When I found out that Elvis was in touch with Douchebag and that Douchebag offered to fly him out of Vegas to his compound in forrest, promising him the yellow brick road to getting his life in order I was more then suspicious. In fact, I didn’t think it was anywhere near a good idea for a few reasons but mainly because I felt that Douchebag had a hidden agenda. That being that he would be able to “control” Elvis in ways that he wasn’t able to control his daughter.

I voiced my concerns to Elvis’ mother.. and then once he was released, I voiced them to Elvis.

A lot of things happened in the time between when he was released to when he flew out here. Mainly, he had a argument with his mother’s boyfriend and got kicked out of their home. So he was on the streets in Vegas with no where to go .. no money.. and no options.

A lot happened and a lot of opinion changing was going on but that’s a minor point in the story so I’ll skip it.

Douchebag did fly him out here and after a brief pit stop at my house, Douchebag and his tw*t wife drove to my house to pick him up. I don’t like his wife. She’s phony and pretentious and has delusional thoughts. They’re a perfect match.

I had a heart to heart with Elvis about keeping his nose clean.. being a good influence on Douchebag’s daughter and not falling into his old habits of drinking and smoking weed. Especially because Douchebag drinks and his daughter smokes weed. I told him, basically, that he’s the only one at the table with anything to lose.. and what he would lose is everything. Keep his distance… be respectful and appreciative.. and most of all, if things start to turn into something that’s going to get him in any kind of trouble to call me.

I don’t live close to Douchebag. Forty minutes one way. But I kept extending the invitation for family dinners and twice I drove out there, picked him up, and drove him back. That was it. All the letter writing and money and support that I extended didn’t seem to mean anything because he took up with Douchebag’s daughter and her friend.. was getting drunk and getting high… and they would get drunk with Douchebag and his wife. Black out drunk.

Mind you, I find all this out through Facebook posts. I hadn’t heard from him after the second week he was in the state.

I was beyond offended but you know what? I have other things going on in my life and they’re all adults who know the game but it wasn’t until they all blew off the duel party we had for the baby’s 1st birthday and Bubba’s graduation AND Elvis friended the crack whore’s brother on Facebook that I was done.

The only thing that changed was who he was doing his shit with. So I “unfriended” all of them from my FB account. Wiped my hands and that was that.

Come on.. you know it wasn’t going to be that easy!

About three weeks ago, I get this bizarre email from Douchebag at 4am saying that Elvis is on his way to my house. Then, a few hours later, his tw*t wife called and told Chief that they had all been drinking the night before and Douchebag said something smart-ass about Elvis and Elvis freaked out and punched him. She didn’t want him on their property anymore and wanted Chief to drive out there.

Chief wasn’t about to do that. He was the only one who saw Elvis for what he is… that being his nephew, yes, but also a stranger who knew nothing except being in a cage for half his life. Yes, he wanted him to succeed, yes he wanted to develop a relationship with him eventually but he told Douchebag from the jump that he needed to treat Elvis like a man.. and make him find a job so that he could build a life.

Douchebag did the opposite. He kept him on the “plantation”, completely reliant on him for everything. He had him to odd jobs on the property to “earn his keep” without affording him the opportunity to make money and move on.

So this fight happens and guess what’s next? Yep, my phone is blowing up with calls from Elvis. Oh, now you want to contact me? Now you need my help?

I honestly thought that when everyone became sober and cured their hangovers, pride would be put on the back burner and at the very least, Elvis would be heading back to Vegas.

That didn’t happen.

Douchebag through him off his property.. told him not to come back or he’d call the police and charge him with trespassing and his tw*t wife took whatever belongings he did have and dumped them in a McDonald’s parking lot. They wiped their hands and that was it. Left him with nothing.. no money.. no people.. no phone.. no transportation.. Nothing.

He was fortunate that he had met a girl just before this happened and she let him crash on her couch but it wasn’t going to be a permanent thing and if his DNA holds true, the situation was going to get to him and he was going to find himself out on the street.

I had an attack of conscience after mulling everything over. We were the only other people in THE STATE the he knows. I don’t have the room for him to stay here.. in fact, my house isn’t big enough for the people who already live here.. but I thought that I could at least help him find a job.

So I’ve been trying to do it but it’s hard because he has a serious record.. he doesn’t have a local license.. he doesn’t have a phone.. every detriment you can think of, it’s on him.

But, in a way, he brought it on himself. He had just taken my advise and stayed away for anything mind-altering, things would be different. If he had stayed in contact with me, things would have been different. But everyone made their bad choices and I can’t be the one to keep cleaning up things for people who don’t appreciate what I’ve already done.

And the Douchebag? He brought him out her. Regardless of what happened, he was responsible for him. You just don’t cut someone loose with no options.. with no means of anything.

That didn’t sit right with Chief and piled on top of everything Douchebag had done, said and did in the last few years it would be best for his well being if he stays far.. far away from Chief.

I haven’t heard anything from Elvis since last week. I’m not sure if any of the story he gave me was true. One minute he’s saying how great this girl is and the next day it’s hell.

I want to help.. but I don’t know what I really can do.

Now.. where the hell is my reality show contract??? Shhhsh!!!

Baby Mama Drama -or- My Weekend In Dallas (No, Not Texas)

Dallas, Pennsylvania.

Who knew.

Anyway.. see that green star? That’s where the Baby Mama’s is currently residing in a half way house.

See that red dot where Philadelphia is? That’s where I live. Well, just a little further then a smidge south-west of the city.

Still.. we’re talking 100+ miles.

Pennsylvania is a big state. Not as big as Texas.. but big, none the less.

So just to give you a little ketchup .. ( ha! Ketchup = catch up!! I amaze myself sometimes with my silliness!).. Baby Mama was in jail when she gave birth on June 13th. She wasn’t released from jail until January something. I think the 4th or 7th or something. In the month prior to her release she called practically every night. I have nothing really to talk to the girl about. I don’t even KNOW the girl sober for crying out loud. But she was calling about her kid and at the time, it was a hell of alot more then Weed was doing.. and he was OUT of jail. So she would call and I would half pay attention to the 30 minute allotted phone call. And when it was time for her to be released, I took the day off from work and me and Chief drove up to the prison with the baby to pick her up.

THAT was a whole event in itself that’s for another post because.. O! M! G! .. who knew that the security guards treated the people picking up offenders like THEY were offenders themselves? Considering who is shipped to this prison, maybe they are.. but still.

Anyway..

I had kept the tree up.. had bought her Christmas gifts from the baby.. and not because I had any emotional attachment to this girl. BUT, she is the Baby Mama and (as I told her).. you only get one chance to fuck up. I’m all about second chances but don’t ever take my kindness for my weakness. Big no-no.

So she gets out and it’s awkward because I don’t know what to say to her.. she don’t know what to say to us.. we have her kid.. she doesn’t know who her son is as a little person after all these months.. etc. etc. etc. But, she knows that she can’t do anything to benefit his life and as long as she was walking the straight and narrow, we would have an open door policy for her to see him.

Now, that may sound very generous but remember, she’s a junkie and couldn’t wait to run across the open fields of heather with the breeze blowing through her buzzed hair into the arms of Weed. Weed was still using at this time.. was staying with Chief’s brother Sarge until he stole a bottle of Oxy’s from him (Sarge has a legal prescription from a back surgery gone wrong) and had been holing up with his crack-whore mother because he gave her half the bottle. Nice, right?) so I may not be the best at math but I do know what 2+2 equals.

She would come by to see the baby. Maybe twice a week.. maybe more.. maybe less.. can’t remember. But it wasn’t everyday and it wasn’t for long periods of time. And then by the second week of February, nothing. No phone calls, no emails, no text messages .. just dropped off the face of the earth.

We found out about a week and a half later that she had tested hot at her last PO visit and was sent back to jail.

NOTE: For those of you who don’t have to deal with junkie step kids and their jail records, “testing hot” means failing the mandatory drug tests that comes with probation. Just stick with me, you’ll learn the lingo quick enough. I did!

From jail she went to rehab and from rehab she was court ordered to a half way house.

We found all this out after the fact.

We had been receiving phone calls from a 570 area code but I’m not one that answers unfamiliar numbers and a voice mail was never left so I just figured my cell number was on some kind of list. It wasn’t until I got an email from her basically accusing us of changing our phone number because we didn’t want anything to do with her.

Like I said… drama.

So I emailed her back.. told her what I just told you. That’s how I found out her details and where the half way house was.

She started bugging us around May to take the baby to visit her. Bugging may not be the right word but she kept on asking. And I kept on telling her that it all hinged on my finances.

Could I have made the trip up and back in one day and a tank and a half of gas? Yes.

Could I do that with a baby who’s mobile and hates being in the car seat? Hell-freakin-NO!

So we would have to stay over.. which meant a hotel.. which meant food.. which meant a whole lot of things that isn’t in my normal budget. Anybody with any brain cells could comprehend.. but she’s a junkie, remember?

So the more I couldn’t take the baby to see her the more her warped mind went into fantasy-land. Her fantasy-land when it concerns the baby is a dangerous place to travel. Not that any court.. regardless of how much they want to (cough) keep the family intact (cough) .. would award her custody but it’s just the fact that I would have to go through the bullshit. And since she would have to hire an attorney .. I would have to hire an attorney and quite frankly, I would prefer to pay my electric bill then a lawyer.

So fine. You want to spend the afternoon with a 12 month old who wants what he wants when he wants it and all be damned if he can’t run across a room of broken glass barefooted? You want to spend it with a child who is just learning to use a spoon and therefore refused to be fed unless he can feed himself which means you’ll have more yogurt or cereal in your hair then he does? Don’t forget the flesh pinching (he thinks he’s tickling you).. hair, earring, necklace pulling..? Screeching.. pooping.. wailing… ?? You go right ahead.

Now, please don’t be mistaken. If it was solely up to me, I would have given her a not-so-polite PISS OFF. But in order to get the fantasy of having her son full time out of her head, she needed to spend sometime with him.

NOTE: I was less then thrilled with leaving him with her but Chief did a good job of explaining that he would be safe because it was a controlled environment. She isn’t allowed to be alone with him.. there were medical personal on duty at all time and other women who had raised children. I deferred. Reluctantly. Actually, kicking and screaming but (shrug).

So we decide to drive up on a Friday. Chief felt it would be better for the baby. I think he just wanted to have an extra-night’s sleep without dogs hogging the bed. We check into a Days Inn.. which was, you know, a Days Inn in Wilkes Barre, PA (where EVERYONE looks like a Walmart greeter).

Timbo loved being in a hotel room. He spent the next FOUR hours running from one end of the room to the other with his little arms up in the air making his “Deet Deet Deet” happy noises. Me? Not so excited. I didn’t want to be there. Was exhausted from not only the drive but from working a full day before we left. Did I mention I didn’t want to be there?

He finally fell out exhausted around 11:00 and since he was going to be sleeping on a bed, I laid on one side of him not getting any sleep at all because I was afraid he’d wake up in the middle of the night.. climb out of bed.. and make his way down to the truck stop and take candy from a guy with three names in a white panel van.

Hey listen.. everyone has irrational fears when it comes to their kids. Leave me alone!

So no sleep and a baby that woke up at 5am just as excited as the night before! Lovely.

Finally Baby Mama calls us right before we’re about to leave to see her and tells us that the address she gave us in the email? Yea, not the right one. That’s the address their mail goes to, but the actual place she’s staying is like 30 miles north of where we the hotel was.

30 miles. NOT a typo.

When asked for an address for the GPS, she comes up with some cockamayme address that it doesn’t recognize. Basically, she had no fucking clue and the search was on to find someone inside the half way house who DID know where the fuck they where.

Way long story short.. we finally get there and Chief was treated to the sight of skanky junkies sunbathing along the side of the road. He’s scarred for life.

But we did what we had to do.. met who we had to meet.. made sure the boy was going to be in good hands and reluctantly made our way back to the hotel to sleep for at least an hour before we had to go pick him up. Which we did and promptly took him back to the hotel to scrub the skank off of him.

We stayed another night at the hotel and left on Sunday morning. We took the back roads home because, you know, this was going to be the only “vacation” WE would have and at least wanted to SEE something other then skank junkies sunbathing to make the whole trip worthwhile. That took 4.5 hours because stupid us didn’t realize that that was POCONO DOWNS weekend and every race car enthusiast from as far away as Mars was in the area trying to get into the Pocono Raceway on a two lane road.

Anybody forget that there was a baby in a car seat that he doesn’t like being in?

By the grace of God we made it home safe and about 600.00 poorer. Like I said in another post, we live paycheck to paycheck and this is going to put a dent in our budget. Going up there meant I had to pay half on the utilities (the other half this coming paycheck).. reduce the food bill.. all that creative budgeting stuff.

And here’s the kicker. But first let me offer apologizes if my head explodes (again) while I type this…

When we went to pick up Timbo up, Baby Mama tells us that her stint in Dallas is over on July 22nd and that she’s trying to find a sober house closer to us in one of the other two counties (one of those counties currently has Weed as a resident).

Like, really?

REALLY?

So I just spent a hell of a lot of money to drive all the way up to Bum-fuck, Pennsyl-tucky and you’ll be moving within an hour from us in some direction on JULY 22ND????????

TWO WEEKS???

EXCUSE ME, MS. FEEL-SORRY-FOR-ME-BECAUSE-IM-A-JUNKIE-THAT-HAD-MY-BABY-IN-JAIL-THAT-THE-STATE-TOOK-AWAY-SO-IM-A-VICTIM.

NO.. you’re NOT a victim. You still do whatever it is you do and the only person who lost ANYTHING was me. I lost my ability to sleep when I want.. buy what I want.. go where I want.. do what I want. I’m the one paying the consequences for your mistakes.

And I unleashed all the pent up anger and frustration and everything else that was pent up because of this whole situation right on Rt 309N and next to the skanky junkie sunbathers.

Don’t get me wrong.. my grandson is the center of my universe. Everything I do, I do for him. He is the light in my life and a blessing each and every day I wake up.

I think you know where I’m coming from, though, right? Can you stop being selfish for one nano second and think of the people who are raising your kid.. and doing all with any assistance for anybody or any government agency?

Sorry.. I think I have to clean up the rest of my brains that exploded on the ceiling again!

Preparing For The Worst

.. ok gang!

I know.. once again, I’ve been MIA.. but with being in the center of a hurricane (literally) and weather the storm of the current election.. our priorities have changed and we had to devote our attentions to something way more important.

I started a new blog that you’re all invited to check out. It’s called Prepper’s Paradise and it’s located HERE.

You can call me crazy … you can think I’m completely off my rocker… I don’t care. You need to think about what would happen to your and your family if you needed to survive.

I’m POSITIVE that the people in Staten Island would have thought I was crazy too before October 30th.

Something to think about!