.. 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!!!!

 

 

United Bank of….. ME??????

You have one of these? Cuz I sure as hell don’t!!

You know… whenever you think it’s too good to be true, right?

Okay.. so let’s do some catch up first:

Weed :: who really should be renamed “deadbeat” :: was in jail when T3 :: who I sometimes call “Timbo” :: was born.

He was released from jail while the baby was still in NICU :: withdrawing from FUCKING HEROIN, mind you :: and if memory serves, went up to the hospital.. um.. twice??

He proceeded to sofa surf.. wound up back in jail.. then into rehab.. then back to sofa surfing.. got a job that last all of 2 days :: because OH! He’s not “.. fit for manual labor” :: … did some more sofa surfing until the tide ran dry.. went back to rehab.. then to a half way house.. and now resides in a sober house about 40 miles north east of where I live.

Phew.. I get exhausted just trying remember this shit!

Anyway.. since the baby has been home with us, he’s seen him about 6 times in 18 MONTHS. Doesn’t help out financially… doesn’t even call and ask how he’s doing. In fact, when he was over for Thanksgiving dinner :: not my idea and that counts as visit 5 of the 6 :: he never once expressed gratitude that the son he called begging and pleading not to become a ward of the state was right there in the middle of the room being supported and raised by me and Chief.

AND, on Christmans :: visit 6 of 6 :: he didn’t so much as bring the kid a dollar store teddy bear even though he “supposedly” is working. Because if there’s one thing the sober house did that Chief didn’t.. was force the kid to get a job to earn his keep.

With both Weed and Bubba, you never heard from them unless they need something. While this doesn’t bother Chief.. it bugs the shit out of me. And it really doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m the only one working.. it has more to do with respect.

Another post for another time.

So the fact that we don’t hear from Weed at all actually makes my life easier.

But y’all know that wasn’t going to last for long.

Last night, Weed calls Chief. The two things I hear Chief say is “… what’s going on” and “.. yknow i’m not working, right?”

And that really is all I need to hear because I know then that somehow, someway, this is going to cost me money. The big question is how much and what it’s for.

See, there’s a reason why they call Chief and ask. Me? I wouldn’t be able to get HELL NO out fast enough.

So Chief talks to him for a few minutes and tells him he’ll call him back.

He walks past me on the couch.. goes into the kitchen.. starts making a cup of coffee.. I purposely ask him if he wanted to watch a movie.. he said he didn’t care.. and then silence.. silence.. silence.. silence.. silence…

I know what he’s doing.. he’s trying to figure out the best way to ask me to give Weed money because he feels embarrassed and awkward and feels like he’s put in a bad position.

So I flat out ask “.. so what was that all about?”

He tells me that Weed is working but for some reason, hasn’t gotten paid yet. “.. remember he said something about that at Christmas? Huh? Huh? Do ya? Do ya?”

NOTE: everything after “.. at Christmas?” I added using the beauty of poetic licensing

I tell him I didn’t but whatever.

He tells me that Weed is 100.00 short on his rent and if he doesn’t have it by tomorrow afternoon, he’s going to get kicked out. IN! 9! DEGREE! WEATHER!

And of course, I have all these questions that he can’t answer.

Why doesn’t he have his rent? Can’t he explain the paycheck situation with the landlord? Can’t he have the landlord call you? Can’t you give him a money order? Can’t you deposit it right into the landlord’s account? Etc. Etc. Etc.

Believe you me.. I did NOT want to give this kid money. For rent or not. I’m not a fucking bank and I have issues making it from one paycheck to another as it is. I also know that once you get him out of a bind once.. that phone will never stop ringing. I also know that Chief can be a pussy when having to play “bad cop” and so I figured that giving him 100.00 bucks is going to serve 2 purposes.

One, he’s going to be told to not even ask for a used tissue until the money is paid back and two, Chief is never going to grow a pair big enough to ask me again on his behalf.

Not to bore you with the details, but it was THAT kind of conversation.

So Chief calls him back and tells him that we’ll bring him up the money. He wanted to see where he was living :: if it was what he said it was and not a crack den :: AND he wanted to give the money to the house manager. Being that he lived in a house for recovering junkies and got a last minute call for money did anyone THINK it was going into his hands?? Right.

Weed texts me his address and when I asked what time the house manager was going to be there, he replied that he would have to get back to me because the dude wasn’t home from work yet.

Fine.

About 10pm he sends a text that we could go up “anytime” because he had to work and wouldn’t be there.

So now I’m going to drive 40 miles :: did I mention that we were hit with 7 inches of snow, temps not breaking 12 degrees AND I go into severe anxiety when I have to drive in bad weather? :: hand some money to some stranger without Weed being there and that’s ok?

Don’t think so.

Chief calls Weed and is told that he has to work and wouldn’t be back until around 4. Chief tells him that we’re not driving up there that late because we’re victims of a toddler’s schedule … HIS toddler’s schedule .. and we’re not going to be put out all night because the kid falls asleep in the car way before he’s suppose to. So Weed tells him that given the circumstances, he’ll try to get off work early and be at the house around 3.

Whatever.

So this afternoon, around 230-ish, Weed calls Chief and asks him what time we were leaving. Chief tells him that we were just gearing up and should be there in an hour. Weed THEN tells Chief that he’s at his girlfriend’s house :: haven’t thought of a name for her yet but she’s another recovering addict that has a 6 year old son and lives with her parents :: and could we pick him up there?

Are you fucking kidding me?

No. No. No. No. No. HELLS NO.

I get bent.. even Chief gets bent.. and I told Chief that he’s acting like he’s doing US a favor and that WE should be grateful enough to go traveling all over eastern Pennsylvania to give him money.

Get the fuck out of here.

Chief actually put his foot down which was impressive. Finally.

We get to the house and it’s not a crack house.. but it doesn’t look line the Sober House on the Dr. Drew VH1 series, that’s for sure.

The girlfriend was there.. she’s nice enough. So far. And we met the house manager and some of the other recovering junkies that live there.

Chief reverted to a teenager and didn’t act one iota like a pissed off father who drug his wife and grandson 40 miles in bad weather to bail him junkie son out once again so I had to be the bitch and lay down the law regarding money. Again.

I had to be the bitch who made it perfectly clear that his son has no idea who he is AND I was the bitch who put his girlfriend on the spot by asking if the father of her son was in his life. Her answer was no. I asked if it pissed her off. She said it did. I then asked if her son’s father was a deadbeat and it pissed her off then why would she want to date a deadbeat?

It’s no secret that his kids think I’m a bitch so why not take the opportunities when the present themselves?

Unfortunately, we were there a lot longer then I anticipated or hoped to be. Maybe a half hour? Less then an hour? But it was at such a time and weather was the way it was that I couldn’t drive. I didn’t feel safe. So Chief had to drive home.

Did I ever mention how bloody car sick I get when Chief drives?

I literally thought I was going to die.. that hot feeling, stomach flipping up to your throat? I was literally in tears because I just wanted to get off the damn highway but we couldn’t.. it was bumper to bumper the whole way down because guess what?

Eagles’ playoffs.. that’s what and the only way we could get back to our house was to drive right past bloody Lincoln Field.. at prime drive time.

Chief did make sure.. in my ear shot.. to ream Weed out about the money, about not even dreaming of asking for anything again until it’s paid back, and for acting like a complete dick about not being at the house.

Like that’s going to make a difference.

At any rate.. that was my day! How the hell was yours??

 

 

 

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!

 

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!

Moving Forward.. Looking Back

I guess it would be best to bring everyone up to date on what’s been going on the past year but I’m not going to bore you with a million word post… I’ll bore you with a million little posts!!

But at least it will give you some idea on how the chess pieces moved and who’s doing what and the what-not:

CHIEF

Since bringing the baby home in July 2012, Chief’s been playing “Mr. Grand-mom”. There really wasn’t a choice. He hadn’t been seriously working since we closed our deli and the disaster that was his job at the country club. Not that I can blame him. When you’re a 4-star rated chef and promised a position (which turned out to be promised to everyone, including the potato peeler) and you were basically doing a job that pays better at McDonald’s, I’d wouldn’t have ditched them to. But everything happens for a reason and not two months after he quit, we had a baby to raise. I give him credit.. he takes care of the baby, Spaz, cleans the house, does the laundry.. and find’s time to do the “man” stuff like mow the lawn and fix the roof.

WEED

Still deciding if I want to dedicate ANY posts to him.. so weary of his shit.. but I do have to say that he is currently in a “sober house” in another county after doing yet another stint in jail and rehab. According to Chief, he’s doing good. He has a job, has to pay rent or he’s out on the street and meets with his P.O. ( that’s “parole officer” for those of you who haven’t had the fortune of having a junkie stepson!) monthly. Those monthly meetings are in our county so that’s when he stops over the house to see the baby. Mind you, I’m at work during these visits and never-rarely have the misfortune of having to actually speak or see him so the above is based solely on Chief’s perspective. Whatever.

BUBBA

Since his crack-whore mother put him out on the street when he was 16, he’s been living with the family of one of his friends. Best thing for him because he had to straighten up and fly right.. something he couldn’t do in a household that he felt was obligated to care for him and put up with his shit. He turned 18, graduated high school, works at Wendy’s and says he wants to enlist. He did go to the enlistment office but they were closed so .. who knows. He comes over on Sunday’s for dinner and I still have barely anything to do with him because with all the good he has accomplished, he still hasn’t offered anything close to an apology for the hell he put me through. For those that care, here’s a pic of him and Chief on his graduation day. Honestly, I just want to show off my husband!!

.. in case you’re confused, Bubba is the one in the cap and gown!

SPAZ

Spaz has actually turned out to be the best of the lot.. and yes, I will take full credit for that! He just finished his Freshman year of high school and has really pulled his academics around since moving to the new school district. Well, “turn around” may be wishful thinking on my part. Let’s face it, he’s not an Einstein but there wasn’t one day last year that he pretended to be sick to stay home from school. I’ll take it where I can get it! He is more upfront about his grades, doesn’t try to use bullshit excuses anymore, is taking accountability and all that. He’s also more respectful towards me and Chief and is doing little chores around the house without being asked. It helps too that his crack-whore mother is doing a stint in prison. The less she’s in his life the more calm and settled he is.

TIMBO

The baby is now 20.5 lbs .. even though my 48 year old back swears he’s 50 lbs. Is in the 45th percentile in high and currently has no residual affects from being born addicted to heroin. He’s walking.. faster every day.. his motor skills are on track (even a little advanced) and he’s just a happy, happy little boy.

ME

I changed jobs in may and am now a regional revenue cycle manager for a national company. Don’t be impressed. I ain’t all that! But I love my job and love the people I work with (actually, they were the original people I started working for 2 years ago but it’s too complicated to go into right now). Fortunately, I’m able to support my family myself. It’s still paycheck-to-paycheck but at least I’m not in the minus anymore on the Wednesday before pay!

So life is good. Life is always good, it’s just a matter of perspective and recognizing that what you went through then is what’s putting you here now. Go with the flow and manage the damage. And pray. Because if it wasn’t for prayer and faith, who knows how things would turn out.

Oh.. and the other cast of characters that routinely show up here:

The Crack Whore – like I said, she’s doing a stint in prison. Karma bitch slapped her because everything always comes back and bites you in the ass. Can’t say I don’t chuckle over her situation during the few times her name comes up.

Baby Mama – Like Weed, she’s in a half-way house upstate. FAR upstate. She got out of jail in January and went right back to doing her shit with Weed and landed back in jail in February. We took the baby up to see her last weekend. Another post for a later date. My mother, especially, was pissed that we made the trip but I’ll go more into detail when I post. If you’re a long time reader then you know that there’s a reason for everything I do!!

Elvis – Haven’t talked about Elvis before. He’s Cheif’s oldest nephew and became a semi big part of our lives fairly recently. But of course, where ever Chief’s family is concerned, drama ensues so I’ll have to go into all that at a later date

My laptop battery is dying so I’ll close for now.. but wow! aren’t you just looking forward to the details yet to come!! :)