Why is the river green??

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I wasn’t even aware that it was St. Patrick’s Day on Monday until my kid complained about not having a leprechaun trap.  No shit, St. Patrick’s Day, which means it’s St. Patrick’s Day weekend.  Which means that the majority of people I know have been completely shit faced all weekend.  Then there’s me.  Sober, and going to bed at 11pm because GodDammit I’m going to be up before 7 so I can drink a coffee in peace.

Wait, what?

Honestly, I didn’t put too much thought into it until this morning while I scrolled through the alcohol fueled regrets on my Facebook NewsFeed.  Once I saw the annual “look she’s sleeping in the stall at the pub” photo, it honestly hit me that I haven’t celebrated St. Patricks Day in a handful of years.  Not the way that I used to anyway, as I do have a whiskey usually the day of.  

Either way, it got me to thinking, do I feel old?  Or do I feel lame?  I’m not sure which is more accurate.  Over the past few years I have settled down quite a bit.  It took a DUI and a long road to fix my life (along with a boyfriend with mirroring problems) to kind of knock the bar-life out of me.   Don’t get me wrong, every once in a while (read: 3 months?) I go out and have a few drinks… but quite frankly I just don’t find it as enjoyable to go out and get shit-faced every weekend anymore.  I would much rather get up at 7am and hit up the Home Depot to grab some things for the house/yard.  So is that because I’m turning 28 (also read: 50?) this year?  Or is that because I’ve just gotten lame with my “OH MY GOD THERE IS A SALE AT LOWES!” self?  

I’m not sure, either way though I guess it’s okay.  Because here I am, wrapped up in my blanket my kid made me for Christmas, relaxing with a cup of delicious coffee.  It’s a quiet moment here in my house, and I’m really enjoying looking at all the pictures and updates on Facebook of puking/fighting/drooling on a bar table not to mention getting the low down on who did what in the bar bathroom.  So meh.  I maybe getting older or lame or whatever, but I’m cool with it. 

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An Open Letter To The Ex-Wives

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[Explanation:  This is not a hack on all single mothers or all ex-wives.  This is for those women who divorce a man for whatever reason but then refuse to let go.  This is for the women who get mad when things start going right for the man that *they* walked out on. This is for those mothers who spend too much money on frivolous shit and then complain when they don’t have money for their half of their child’s necessities.  Take offense if you must but if you do, think about why you’re offended. ] [ This is also not a dig on mothers who want their ex-husbands to pay child support or their half of the child’s expenses.  I am also a mother, who unfortunately has an ex-husband who doesn’t pay a dime. ]

 

Hey you,

Yeah you.  I’m sure this will get around to you some how.  Someone you know will see it and link it to you, and that’s okay.  I’m cool with that.  I am also writing this so other ex-wives understand what they have signed up for.

I just wanted to explain something to you.  I am an ex-wife too, I, like you decided to end my marriage and continue on, on my own.  More power to you!  However, there are consequences to your actions, especially when your ex-husband decides to enter a long-term relationship with a girl like me.

I am a single mother.  I do it all with out any child-support or assistance from the state (not that that is wrong, unless you abuse it… ahem).  I have worked my ass off to get to where I am today, which includes a mortgage, car, as well as day to day expenses.  I am proud of the fact that I’ve managed to make it this far, and if my accomplishments bother you, too bad.

So lets get down to what is bothering you then shall we?

From what I guess, you’re kind of salty that the man you divorced is living a stable and happy life.  My mistake, but what you could do is maybe get a “real” job, you know one with benefits and hours that let you actually spend time with your kid.  You know, the kind where you don’t drink *and* pay your taxes?  It’s not his fault that you’re broke and it’s not my fault that you’re in the same place as you were when you left him.

Speaking of money.  I’ve told you numerous times that I’ll give you half of the money that is needed for something.  I offered to pay for half of the school supply package, I have no problem paying half of baseball, I have no problem buying the kid clothes.  Hell, I called you a little over a week ago and asked what clothes he needed, “Just maybe some basketball shorts, he’s fine other than that.”  Apparently you forgot that information since “Well he needs a whole new wardrobe” popped up today.  I am not a fool.  I will not be bailing you out of whatever financial hole you have gotten yourself into.  One of the consequences of getting a divorce is becoming financially independent.  It’s called budgeting.

Also, as you may now know, money does not grow on trees.  I understand that you want to send your child to some camp that magically costs $400 (which by the way, I have internet, you shouldn’t lie).  We unfortunately do not see that as reasonable, so we cannot come up with that large of a sum of money.  We do have bills to pay, remember, we’re *not* on welfare?  As a mother myself, I cannot favor one child over another, and since I cannot afford to send my daughter to camp, I cannot afford to send your kid either.  I’m a huge fan of avoiding favoritism.

Also, I need you to remember that you’re the EX.  You are no longer apart of my boyfriends life.  You left him, so there should be no bitching.  I can’t believe that he has repeatedly had to explain to you that he doesn’t want to hear about your day.  There is no need for daily phone calls unless it is from his child or about his child.  I need you to realize that beyond the fact that you’re still alive and at least attempting to provide your child with a good life, neither of us care.  I’m sorry this seems to bother you so much, but you’d think after 2 years you would’ve gotten used to this.  I’ve tried to stay out of it, but apparently you need to hear it from me as well.  I will call you if I have to, and as you already have learned, I will tell you what’s on my mind, how things work with me, and you will listen… again.

You know, we’ve already had this conversation once.  I figured you’d get it, but apparently not.  I realize that there is an adjustment period to getting over the fact that your ex-husband is happy with out you, but honey it’s been 2 years.  Time to get moving.  You can call me the wicked-step-mother or whatever you may, because frankly it doesn’t bother me.  You just need to realize that I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to stay, and I am most definitely not a fool.  The man you left has changed as well, he’s made himself stronger and refuses to be a doormat again.

So I guess what it comes down to is – Suck it up buttercup, because this is the way it is.

 

Sincerely,

A very aggravated girlfriend.

Fathers Day and a One Year Anniversary

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Let me start off this post with a belated Happy Father’s Day to all the wonderful father’s I know out there.  From my friends, to my own Father to my boyfriend.

A Father is his son’s first hero and his daughter’s first love.

That being said, this Father’s Day was a bittersweet anniversary for Noodle and I.  One year ago on Father’s Day was the last time she heard from her father, Tim.  At this point I don’t even want to call him a father but I hate that stupid term “sperm donor”.  Anyway, last year at this time, he had already up and moved to Colorado after giving us only 3 days notice.  He had promised to call Noodle, promised her he’d be back in a couple of weeks, and promised me he was going for work and would send money as soon as he good.  One year ago on Father’s Day, he called for the last time and got mad that Noodle didn’t want to talk on the phone with him, since she was busy playing with about 15 children at a barbecue.

We never heard from him again.  Through a little digging on the internet, we found out what town he’s living in, that he’s unemployed and living off of his new girlfriend (what a surprise) and that he spends his time in the bottom of a bottle.  Tim broke my daughters heart as he broke each and every promise he ever made her.  While he was off starting another life for the 4th time, I was here dealing with a 4 year old who was facing the fact that her own father doesn’t love her.  While he was at the bar with his new girlfriend, I was rocking my child to sleep who had spent hours crying for her father.  While he was off doing what he wanted, I fed a brand new hatred for the man.

It’s been one year.  I knew he wouldn’t come back, hell, even his own mother has admitted that.  It’s been one year, and the hatred has just grown.  However I’ve become more confident.  Slowly my little girl stopped asking for her Dad, and slowly I realized I could do this on my own.  Slowly she got over losing him and slowly I got stronger.  A lot can change over a year, and my family is proof of it.  The anger I have against him has fueled me into making myself a better mom.  The burning anger at the memories of my daughter crying for her father, pushed me to spend a lot of time with her and realize I’d rather be with her than anything else.

It’s been one year since Noodle’s dad willingly left, and it’s given me one year to strengthen my family and my relationship with my daughter.  It’s been one year and she’s okay and I’m okay.  It’s been one year, and I can swear to god… if he ever comes near my daughter again I’ll rip his head off.  I will not let him do what he did to his son and pop in and out of her life.  We’re better off  with out someone who chooses drugs and drinking over his kids.  I’m glad he’s gone.

Happy Father’s Day (belated).  More importantly, Happy One Year Anniversary to Noodle and I.  Here’s to many more years!

The END of a Sentence

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So as most of you know, last year I had gotten myself a DUI.  45 days later, August 25th, my license was suspended.  Since then I’ve been driving with a Baiid Device in my car.  It was originally for 6 months, but I violated it and it was extended to 9 months.  Lesson learned… the next morning you are still drunk.  Anyway, so the time is about to come to an end.  This Friday I get my license back, and shortly after I get the Baiid Device removed from my car.

When I first had the device put in my car I was honestly really annoyed.  The problem I saw with it is not only can you not drive drunk (obviously), but you can’t drink at all… and if you do, you have to be very careful that your BAC is under .005 before you try to drive.  Now those of you who know my family, we’re a wine at dinner kind of people.  Or a beer at the lake.  All of those were off limits to me.  I was annoyed, but grateful to have my driving privileges back.  I thought I’d just count down the days, hate every day of it, and then be done.

You know what?  It wasn’t that bad, and all in all I have to give the device a good review.  I learned a lot from it, a lot more than I thought I would anyway.  For instance, you are still not okay to drive the morning after drinking (and subsequently I found out if a girl gets hammered at night, she usually has alcohol in her system until around 5pm the next day).  I learned that 1 beer and 1 hour is pretty much right, and more than that and you are not legally not safe.  I realized how many times I had put myself (and others at risk) not only of bodily harm but of getting a DUI.  There were many a nights where if I was too shitfaced to drive, I hopped in the car with someone who was driving… and thinking back on it… had a few drinks before hand.  I learned it was actually easier to take a cab to and from a night out, instead of dealing with the hoopla of “Are you SURE you’re sober?”.  I learned that a lot more people drive drunk than I even realized.

The two most important things I learned?  Oh yeah, epiphany coming here.  I learned I drank too much, too frequently and it changed my behavior to something I didn’t like.  That first month I wasn’t allowed to drive I really wanted to go out… as the month passed I realized that (while okay for others) my want to go out once a week was too much for me.  I started to think about why I wanted to go out, what good I would get out of it and why I wanted to drink.   What it came down to was I wanted to go out because I saw it as a break from my daughter, since my divorce I had been a single parent and the world rested on my shoulders.  Going out with my friends and having a few drinks was how I was coping with the stress of all of that, not to mention being sick.  I had a lot of fun, I did, but what I had to figure out was why I didn’t want to be at home.

This whole time Ryan and I haven’t gone out much, just a few times here and there.  Mostly because it became a hassle and we didn’t feel like dealing with it.  So we spent a lot of weekends at home this past weekend and I learned something doing so.  As the time progressed, we spent more and more time at home, we watched movies, had friends over, did special things things for our kids and had dinners to ourselves.  We worked on my house and made quite a few memories doing it.  As the time passed I learned why I didn’t want to spend time at home.  My home didn’t feel like a home.  Up until last summer, things were always dramatic at my house.  Of course the divorce and following restraining order, but also a traumatic relationship and my Crohns flaring not once but three times.  Home was where I was alone to think, and home was where I had to face my demons.  I was too busy facing said demons and trying to escape them to even consider my house a home. Once Ryan and I started dating I wasn’t alone with my thoughts anymore, I didn’t spend what time I had at home over-thinking things as well as the future, I had someone to talk about everything with.  I had someone to share my thoughts with, and I had someone who had similar thoughts.  So as time passed, things came out in the open, and I was able to lighten up a bit.  I didn’t need to go out and get loaded to feel carefree, all I needed was someone to talk to and a cup of coffee.  Once things came out it was easier to relax, it was easier to enjoy my house and my life and make those memories.  With all of that time, all of those memories, I made my house a home.

Things have progressed quite well these past handful of months, and now this suspension is coming to an end.  I’ve learned a lot and I’m sure I have a lot more to learn.  Am I done drinking?  No.  I’m sure we’ll still out once in a while and get drunk and dance like monkeys.  I’m sure I’ll have that glass of wine with dinner at my Dad’s house.  Now though?  Now I don’t NEED to get loaded to have fun.  I don’t WANT to go out constantly (ha, if at all, Sarah finally turned into a homebody).  I learned what a risk it is, not only to myself, but to my friends, family and relationships.

Sure, I wish I never got that damned DUI, but honestly, if I didn’t, things would be much different now.  I’m not quite sure I ever want to know how that would turn out.  So in a way, I’m glad it happened.  That stupid DUI changed my life, and it changed my life for the better.  I can only hope life continues to be great, that I continue to be happy, and that things keep working out.  I’m happy, and it’s almost painful to admit, but the DUI and facing the resulting (or always there but hidden) demons gave me this chance to turn things around and be happy with my life.  Everyone needs a second chance, and I’m glad I got mine.

 

 

Not only that, but I might miss that device a little bit.  I named him Sammy… and what will I ever do with out that thing beeping for attention and distracting me from my music.  :)

A Bitch Called Hope

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There’s this song by Blood for Blood (if you haven’t heard them and don’t like hardcore, don’t waste your time.  You’ll want to stab yourself in the ears.) called “A Bitch Called Hope”.  I used to relate to that song a lot, hell even now, more than 8 years later.  Hope is a hard thing to hold onto sometimes, but one thing I’ve realized through all of these years?  I need to have hope.  I need hope to thrive, to survive, and to strive for more.  With out hope I get nowhere… as I proved for a couple years as a teenager.

At the same time though, when you hope and pray for something, especially when you’ve worked your ass off for it, and whatever it is falls through?  It’s devastating.  Sometimes hope can almost destroy you in the end, and knowing that is what makes it so hard.  Hope is a bitch, a cold-hearted bitch, and that stupid bitch will screw you over if you give it the chance.  So sometimes I’m wary of hope.

I’ve always lived by the motto: Hope for the best, expect the worst and work your fucking ass off in the meantime.  I think that whole line of thought is what has gotten me labeled as a pessimist more than a handful of times, but you know what?  It works for me.  It keeps my ass in gear, my mind working, and helps me prepare for the worst in any scenario.  It allows me to continue to bust ass for something I want, but kind prepare for if things don’t work out as planned.  Almost mutes the devastation if it comes my way.

There has been so much going on in the past few years, quite honestly a lot of it got me down for a while there.  In the not to recent past I had almost given up hope that things would get better.  I saw nothing in my dead end jobs, nothing good coming out of being a single mother working sometimes upwards of 16 hour days.  I lost the motivation to love my life and improve what I didn’t love.  I did the basics for my daughter, made her life as perfect as I could, but as for everything else?  I shut down.  In all reality, that helpless feeling I had as I watched my life circle the drain broke me.  It did, it broke me far worse than the abusive marriage I was in, my self-caused train wreck teen years, anything.  That hope that I had clung to for so many years just disappeared.

When things were getting to be damned near unbearable, I finally caught a break.  I was offered a job, and then immediately offered my current job.  Then, like a brick through a bay window, that hope was back.  I knew that if I kept busting ass, life would get better.  You know what?  It most definitely has.  It’s never ending hard work, but it’s worth it.  Last Spring/late winter, one year ago, I was sitting at this kitchen table trying to figure out how to afford my gas bill.  I was barely making enough to afford food, much less my bills and medical treatments.  I was sitting at this table, praying for a hand up, a break, something.  I was headfirst into a bottle a lot of those nights, because at that point I didn’t even want to cope.  I just wanted peace.

Now?  Things are much better.  Not perfect, but enough to make me happy.  I’m still at a wonderful job, I’m in a wonderful relationship, and I’m working on my relationships with my family and a few old friends.  I realized that I need to keep busting my ass and fix my life, and since I was given that sliver of hope, it’s been a fight to keep it ever since.  It’s nice to be able to look back and reflect, the contrast between last year and this one…. it just proves that it was worth it all.  That things DO get better if you work for it, and having that little bit of hope just pushes you along.

Hope is still a bitch though, but hope is here to stay.

Saturday Night In.

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I never thought I’d be a homebody.  Never in a million years, I was too busy trying to get out of my house and have a life to even consider that to make my house a home I have to be here.  A lot can change in year and I am definitely proof of that.  So instead of trying to figure out tonight’s plans to go out and hit the town, I’m settling in and cooking dinner for myself.  My daughter weaseled a pizza lunchable out of me at the grocery so I can make whatever I want.  Chipped Beef on Toast?  Yes please!  Then after the kiddo goes to bed it’s a night of my favorite shows all curled up on the couch.

I’ve owned this house for 3 years now, and it’s been one hell of a roller-coaster ride so far.  Things are still crazy, but at the same time they are smoothing out (if that even makes sense).

I’ve managed to find a stable job, which I’ve been at for 1 year now (as of Wednesday)… a job that even though it gets on my nerves some days, I still look forward to going into the office in the morning.  This job has given me the monotony that I dread, but at the same time, it’s not the same thing every day.  It makes enough money to pay the bills, and then some now that Ryan has moved in and taken over his half of the mortgage and utilities.  So now I’m capable of saving money, which is something despite at times two jobs didn’t allow me to do.

Since Ry has been around he’s been kicking my butt into gear when it comes to the house.  It’s really coming along since last spring, I put in the floor myself and he painted almost every room.  With the new furniture in it looks fantastic!  He’s even been keeping my plants alive and helping me pick out picture frames and little knick knacks.  Something I never bothered to do.  Once he finished my bedroom, I now have my own little library.  He put in bookshelves up a wall and hung up a lot of my candles, it finally feels comfortable in there.  A little retreat, vacation spot for me while I’m at home.

Frankly, our little dysfunctional family and Ryan’s and my relationship has finally turned my house into a home.  For a couple years there, thanks to a divorce and thanks to my own faults, it was just a place to stay.  Now?  I take pride in my home, it’s mine, and I love it.  I actually love spending time here, there is nothing better than curling up and drinking coffee with my love.  I am as happy as I’ve been, which means it’s time to strive for even more happiness and stability.  Setting things right that have been askew for a long time.

One thing that Ryan kicked my ass into doing was filing for child support.  I had filed the motion and went to court, unfortunately it got shot down.  I finally managed to get an appointment with Child Support Enforcement and they are hunting my ex-husband down for me.  They found his social security number and have put it in the system, on top of that they have the Colorado State’s Attorney looking for him as well as Illinois.  He may never work a real job again, but if he does, or hell, even applies for assistance, they’ll find him.  They even managed to pull up my domestic abuse case, complete with pictures, and flagged it just in case he decides to lose his cool when they finally find him.

I don’t have hopes for anything, I’d honestly be surprised if he finds a real job, but it was worth it.  Anyone who hurts my daughter is instantly on my shit list, it’s just sad that it had to be her own father.  This father’s day?  It will be one year since we even heard from him, more since he left.  My heart breaks for my Noodle, but she doesn’t need someone like that in her life, she will learn that blood is NOT thicker than water, and sometimes good friends are even better than family.

Other than that nonsense, I’ve been doing what I love to do.  Write.  Not so much in this blog, but in my journal and on my pseudo book.  It’s one thing I’ve decided to pursue, not because I think I will make any money on it, but because why the hell not.  I also have been writing quite a bit in my journal… the point behind that one is simple.  It’s for my daughter.  I have well over 40 full journals so far, I started a journal as soon as I could write.  This way, when I am long gone, my kiddo can read them and get to know me as well as the person I used to be.  Maybe if I go early, she can use them for advice.  That’s one thing I wish my mother would have done is more journaling.  I think it would be easier to at least have something to read of hers, you know to feel a little closer to her even though she’s not here anymore.

Like any parent, I hope to god that I don’t die while she is young.  Going through that myself when I was in 5th grade was horrible, and even now at 26, I need my mother.  However, facing what possibly runs in my genes, what my medications can cause, as well as Crohns Disease, I do worry about it.  That’s why I have been trying to eat as healthy as I can afford, get exercise in as well as stop drinking.  I am proud of myself, I went from drinking (even just one beer) a few times a week to just once a month… maybe.  With just that alone, I feel great!  My Crohns is practically in remission, with a stray fistula symptom here and there but that’s it!  This is the best I’ve felt in years!   The next thing on my agenda?  Smoking.  I want to at least cut down to the bare minimum – a cigarette with a cup of gourmet coffee because, hello, I just can’t have coffee with out my smoke.  Haha, that’ll never change.  I’m just sick of not being able to run like I used to, and smoking doesn’t help with all of my lung infections I catch now that I’m on Remicade.  So smoking is next, I think I can do it, I just have to get up the courage to actually let myself run out of cigarettes.  I hope I get that courage soon.

Things are good.  I never thought I’d be on this path in life, but you know what?  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I love my family, I love Ryan, and things are on the up and up and I won’t let that change.  :)

Let’s trade places…

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Lets trade places shall we princess?  I wish we could.  I’d like to show you a thing or to about being a single (or in your case, part time) parent.  Hell, I’d like to show you a thing or to about being a woman, a good person, and a human being.  Lets take a trip into my world, the world you don’t seem to realize exists, and the world you deny to hell and back.  I’d like to show you the way things are… in your little world and in mine.  Shall we?

St. Patrick’s Day.  I stayed in with my boyfriend… we had been out in the forest preserve all day and on the motorcycle (since my daughter was at a sleepover with her best friend).  We stayed in, saved money, went to bed relatively early since the next day was supposed to be nice and we wanted to take the kids to the forest preserve.  It was nice and relaxing.  I’m sure we would’ve had fun if we went out, but we wanted to avoid spending money, the crowds and police as well as the hangover the next day.

St. Patrick’s Day for you.  You went to a wedding that you had helped plan.  At 10pm you sent your child home with your parents and stayed to get shit faced.  Guess spending the remaining weekend day with your child wasn’t important… especially after you “worked so hard” at the wedding, I’m sure he didn’t get much time with you.  So your kid spent the night and grandma and grandpa’s again.  I’d totally thumbs up that one… if he wasn’t there on half of your days anyway.  Who care’s though right?  You worked HARD to help out at the wedding and deserved to spend more time there getting wasted.  *Shrugs* We’ll see.

Sunday Morning.  We woke up and started coffee around 8am.  That way we all had a bit to relax and wake up.  Peaceful morning until you called.  When we were asked what we were doing today you started railing in my boyfriend about how we need to include your son.  You continued to go on and on about how you DESERVED a day off to rest and relax since you were so hungover.  Your kid was still at his grandparents.  If you had taken a moment to breathe (and most likely sober up a bit) you would’ve realized that we had already talked to your son, and the plan was to go get him.  That’s okay though, because when his Dad had told you we’d take him to the Forest Preserve, you flipped out.  “Well if you don’t take him the WHOLE day, you can’t see him at all!” and on and on with the break stuff.  Well then.  I see you’re back at it.  This is the second time in 3 months that you have threatened to withhold your son from his father because you didn’t get your way.  Whatever.  You wonder why people don’t respect you, and why I never will.   That’s okay.  While you spent the entire day sleeping we went and took the dogs, kids, and ourselves to spend the beautiful day at the forest preserve.  It was really nice, your son even found a deer antler!  After the forest preserve we came back to my house and played on the trampoline and had some dinner.  We called you to see if we could bring your son back, seeing as how it is was your day to see him, after we went to the park, 45 minutes before you had asked we keep him until and you immediately started insulting your son’s father, claiming he never does anything to help you out, even though he had your son 2 out of your 4 days this week.  Oh well, we went to the park as planned and showed up half an hour early.  I’m sorry you were angry that we wouldn’t keep him over night, so you could “have a night to yourself”… again.  But making your child get up 2 hours earlier than normal because we have to work, that would be 6am…. that’s not happening… especially since you failed to mention his cold.  He needs his sleep.  Plus we needed to shower and get to bed.. because like I said… we work.  You know.  Day jobs.  Sorry.  Besides, he needed a shower too, we all stunk! Now I don’t mind driving half an hour away and back to pick your son up, I don’t, I definitely don’t mind him being part of my dysfunctional family, but the least you could do is not insult your ex, and act generally ungrateful towards myself.  I guess I’d be a little salty if I slept all day while my kid spent a day outside having fun with my ex’s girlfriend.  But whatever.

Now honey, we really do have to talk.  We’re going to have a little conversation one of these days.  I’m tired of your complaining, I’m tired of you using your son against your ex, and I’m tired of well… you.  You seem so ungrateful, but your ex drops everything at the call to see his kid when you’re “too busy”.  You seem to forget that you do NONE of the driving when it comes to picking him up and dropping him off.  *I* do.  Think about how many days he spends at his grandmother’s house.  How many *hours* you actually spend with him.  You really should get off your high horse there sweetheart, when your son spends more time with relatives and his dad (and myself) than you.

While we’re at it?  Stop complaining about working hard.  You work at a bar.  You refuse to get a normal job.  Don’t give me that crap about not being able to find something, check craigslist, monster, hell, take a walk.  There’s plenty of day jobs in our town.  We’re lucky, our town(s) are rebounding faster than everyone elses.  You choose to work until 10pm and then close out the bar with your friends.  You choose to.  I know.  I chose to too.  But then guess what?  I realized how much my daughter missed me and how much it was impacting our relationship and I got a day job.  I’m a single parent like you claim to be.  I bust my ass to make sure my daughter has everything, including her OWN roof over her head.  Not a room in a friends house.  You can do better, I’ve heard how you used to be.  I know the bar scene is fun, but eventually you have to do right by your son.  I get it, trust me I do, but family comes first.  Don’t make the same mistakes I made.

Now speaking of that.  That little thing you pulled yesterday with your hangover?  You REALLY needed to stay and drink?  Well guess what.  Responsible parents have two choices.  1.  Go home early with their children.  or 2.  Stay out, have fun, then get up early with their children the next day.  It sucks.  But it’s called parenting.  You can’t always pawn off your kid on someone else.  When your kiddo knows “Mommy’s been drinking”, trust me, he’ll remember.  Once in a while is okay, but really?  You make my teenage years look kind of lame.

I don’t feel pity for you at all.  I don’t.  Once you walk a mile in my shoes, you’ll understand.  I hope you get it soon, your son isn’t so little anymore and he’s a very VERY smart boy.  Smart boys figure out their parents pretty fucking quick, and you’re on a long walk off of a short pier.  Sure.  Keep working “hard”, keep drinking hard, keep trying to manipulate everyone else into doing your parenting for you, but I’m warning you, it’ll come back and kick your ass.  Not too many people are falling for the woe is me bullshit anymore.  You’re not a victim anymore, unless you count yourself a victim of your own laziness.  Your kid is going to wise up soon, and your ex already has.  I hope for your sake you wake up and step up before it’s too late…. because trust me… you want to be a good parent to that boy.  That boy deserves it.  Just like mine does.