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6.23.2007

My Apologies...

Lately I've been sitting and instead of whining and having my mini pity parties by my lonesome, I try and count my blessings instead. But it's like the more I feel I am blessed the worse certain situations become until I just feel hopeless.

I'm constantly in fear of fucking up my kids the way my folks did me. True, now I have more respect for my father despite his wrongdoing in the past. But I don't want my kids to feel like I feel towards my mother. Sometimes, I'm not going to lie, I feel like I hate her. Most times, I am certain she hates me.

I feel certain I'm fucking up my kids in advance. And child rearing isn't something where you sit there and say, you know what? I was awful to my kids today but tomorrow I'll do better I promise. Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone. And as the days go by I don't know... it's like I feel the little bit of time I spend with my kids... let's just say I'd prefer them not to remember many a afternoon with mommy dearest.

And the girls are so little and SO sweet. There are no end to kisses and hugs, no limiting the number of spoken "I love you"'s. All our bonding time isn't bad. I think it's sweet when the girls know mommy is bone tired and I'm told to stretch out on the carpet and let them pretend to put makeup on me. All they need is a cup of tepid water and my supply of unused blush, lipstick and eyeshadow brushes and they will happily "paint" my face (back, tummy, feet). Jaalyn said she thinks it relaxes me and it gives us an opportunity to bond without words, without yelling, without tears.

And then there are those times that the crying has worn my last nerve, or Jaalyn's lied (boldly, I might add) about the most asinine thing, or their father has done something stupid or done nothing at all and I'm pissed about it. Or I'll get laid out by my mother, argued with the girls father AND the baby's screaming nonstop, Jaalyn's knocked over something sticky and sweet near the endless trail of ants streaming through our living room and refused to pick it up, AND she's lied about it despite the fact that she did it in front of me... and on and on.

And I get angry.

And I yell.

And I fuss.

And it's happening too often. Too regularly. And I could offer excuses: I'm beyond exhaustion. I'm working 6 days a week. I'm stressed because of *insert multitude of problems here*. But the bottom line is that I'm the adult. I am the parent. There is no excuse, period. Yes, there will be days that I lose my temper. Days where I justifiably want to sink to the floor, put my head in my hands and just cry. Single parenting is hard. Extremely hard especially when you feel like you have no one of value in your corner.

Ever go to a little league softball game and hear various parents cheer on other people's kids? "You can do it Tyler!" "Way to go Mary!" "Don't worry about it Bobby!" But when it's their own kid you can tell by the emphasis in their voice and body language. You can tell that they mean what they say. They have a vested interest in that kid and that kid is their #1 player, the MVP. Cheering on a single parent it kinda like that. Dotted here and there are well wishers and a few cheers. But they aren't heartfelt; more like rehearsed and automated. So that means that, well, it doesn't mean much at all to hear it. Wasted words, wasted breathe.

Anyway, I'm off subject. Jaalyn, my love, my heart and my first... if you should ever read this please know how much I love you. I don't want to be mean, I don't want to yell. I would love to simply be the best mommy in the world to you. It's what I live for and strive to be. We are both growing and learning and together I know we can do this. The bond we have is unlike anything I've ever known or seen. I want to continuously feed and nurture it so that it will continue to grow. I will make time for you. We will have our mommy-daughter days again I promise. We can send Trin to her daycare and spend time together, just me and you.

I promise.

6.19.2007

Is it me?

I have no justifiable excuse. I willingly surround myself with people that are poison to me. It like an addiction I think because I do the same thing, experience the same hurt, anger and frustration, yet I'm not eliminating the cause of the problem in it's entirety.

People.

I swear evil and stupid people are like a cancer. (I swear I'll quit with the analogies after this post.) If you don't cut out that cancer entirely, it comes back stronger and threatens to consume. I am so frustated and so... so... rage filled. I mean it's scary. My temper is short as hell these days. I snap on Jaalyn, I snap on Trinity and it hurts me to my heart.

But it's all caused by people. People in my life. People I allow to be in my life.

I need to purge. I keep saying I'll do it. But when it comes to those that I love I am reluctant to let go. Life is so short.

But then, life, is short. I need to live again. Live for what matters most and fuck the rest.

6.13.2007

In Honor of Father's Day...

Yet one more angry note...

A shame I have to post angry letters and notifications here in order to let off steam from dealing with your stupid ass. It's a shame too that I write about it instead of telling you to your face. Then again, that's a mixed blessing of sorts.

The reason why I write these things, the way I do, instead of saying all sorts of nasty shit to your face is because I hate the drama that ensues. I hate arguing, I hate fighting, especially in front of the children. Trinity already wails when I raise my voice thanks to that last time you drew me into arguing with your retarded ass when you cussed me out in the parking lot in front of my townhouse. Ever since then she cries and cowers with fear whenever I raise my voice. I despise you for making me show that side, that angry side, to my child and every time I see her reaction it makes me loathe you more.

So to avoid the shouting matches and the stress and strain, I keep calm and quiet in front of you. You never know what I am thinking and I can see your mind is baffled by my pacifist persona. It's so unlike me isn't it? I, the one that would bitch and scream and cuss and cry just to get you to come see your child or to get a measly gallon of milk from you. And now? I don't have the heart for it. Between you and my mother you're both killing me. Blood pressure, stress, headaches, heartaches. No more. God forbid something happens to me, where would the girls go? To my mother to be belittled, antagonized and warped? Or to you, briefly before you willingly hand them over to social services? (And yes, this is a true statement uttered from his lips that should something happen to me he would in fact give my kids away.)

So, instead I sit quietly. I rage inwardly. Have to stop it soon because holding it in is nearly as bad as making an ass of myself screaming obscenities at you. The anger, the bitterness, my God it eats at my soul like a canker. I can remember vividly being like this years ago; after Jaalyn was born and you refused to be a father; after I realized that you considered dropping off a gallon of milk after a year and a half to be "child support"; after my already meager paycheck began being garnished to pay for your debts; after I realized the high deposits and fees I'd have to pay for basic utilities because my name was attached to yours on previous bills and addresses; after I realized what a fool I'd been to ever hope you'd be half the man I thought you'd be, let alone the good father I wanted you to be.

What can I say? What do I do? For so long I've let things slide.

And when I did finally approach you for something, you denied me. Not just me, but our sick baby. You denied her her medication she so desperately needed all because there were things you said you wanted to do. That was the final straw for me. All goals set aside for now to focus on the main one, which would be to no longer be dependant on your help financially. Because really, that’s the only real way you help. Not like you do anything else of importance.

Oh and here’s a little tidbit I’d just love to share with you. All the questions Jaalyn had after our blowout on the phone. Bless her. She wanted to know why, if daddy loves us like he says, why won’t he get the baby her medicine. Mommy, How come you’re the one that always stays with me and Trinity when we’re sick. How come you’re the only one that takes us to the doctor and to school? I knew that she would eventually notice. Some of her questions I answered. Most I could not. I cannot explain to her why you won’t be the father she (or even I) want you to be. I cannot explain what I do not understand.

Burns me up to know that I have to tolerate you even in the most banal ways. Not for long though if I can help it. I’ve had it. I’m beyond tired, beyond disgust, beyond the beyonds with you.

I mean, between you and me, it’s kinda fucked up that I play two roles to our girls; both mom and dad. It’s sad that I end up trying to compensate for your foolishness by doing special things for the kids. Not that I wouldn’t do them ordinarily, but sometimes when money is low, tears are falling because once again daddy didn’t do what he said he would, I dig a little deeper in the pocketbook and I do my best to make the girls happy. Sometimes I feel like I’m overcompensating and that too makes me angry. Just that I’m put in a position to ever feel like I’m overcompensating for the want of a decent damned daddy.

My own fault really. You barely did for one child, what made me think having another would make you act right? Doesn’t really matter though… just like I tell the girls all the time:

Mama’ll make it better.

6.04.2007

Just... Wow...

Did any of you see this last Sunday?

Or this, this past Sunday?

And then I looked at this...

And I wept.


Jesus people, we got to do better. The fool in the big chair is on his way out next year.

Get out, get informed, and vote dammit.

I'll go so far as to say that anyone has to be better than the fuckup we have now.

6.02.2007

Drivel...

I long for simplicity in life sometimes. I mean complexity is good in certain circumstances, but for everyday situations I crave the mundane.

I don't know what is wrong with me these days. I mean the changes I'm experiencing are far more than just typical postpartum hormonal stuff. I joke with my girlfriends that I'm going through a mid-mid-life crisis since I'm about to cross the proverbial threshold into 30dom and old maid territory.

I'm very emotional; that's hormonal I know for fact. But it goes deeper than that. I am lonely. I would love to have a little attention thrown my way. A little affection, a little love. It bothers me that I don't have it or anyone special in my life. Everyone that could be considered special has that one very obvious flaw that I've talked about here, and here. That availability thing. The not married/taken thing. And because all I'm ever offered is the number 2 slot, I'm becoming bitter.

Well, not just bitter. Angry. VERY angry. And for every man that says I should just deal with it because: a) it's the perfect relationship -or- b) it's not like you're really number 2 because you're really #1 when it's just me and you in the room, for those men just... ugh. There's no greater way to express my disgust and this time FUCK YOU just doesn't cover it all. Let me think of a nice vivid description to convey my disgust with men... Fellas, imagine being forcibly fucked in your ass by a dude named Paco and having him take his shit covered dick and wiping it across your upper lip.

Yeah, that pretty much describes how I feel these days.

And it hurts. It hurts knowing you're not wanted by anyone, except for the brief creation of the two-backed beast between the sheets. But, I try and say whatever and keep on rolling.

The hurt remains though.

It's weird because I'm not the mushy type. I'm normally not feeling this vulnerable. I'm normally not this needy or emotional or pessimisstic. And I sit through movie after movie* with my daughters, all of which focus on the "happily ever after" theory and Jaalyn talks about how she can't wait for her happily ever after to come. Who am I to tell her that it doesn't always work that way? Who am I to tell her that sure, Prince Charming may come to your doorstep on his white stallion... but he'll come in the dead of night when Mrs. Charming isn't looking and he'll stash his steed out back so no one notices his visit. She looks at these movies, then I catch her looking at me and I can see clearly what she's thinking. How come this hasn't happened to Mommy?

*These movies by the way are enough to drive me insane. The music, romanticism, syrupy lovey dovey dialog and the primary point that love conquers all/your prince will always come is enough to make a bitch heave. The makers of such drivel ought to be shot.

I hope to God, please God please, let this be a phase I'm going through. I am the woman who says with confidence (and I still do despite how I feel at the present) that I do not need a man to complete me. And I don't.

It's just that with all that's going on with the kids and other things going on in life, I just want a little affection. A little attention and a little love. And I don't think I'd even want or need these things as much as I do if I had some outside interests. Things that don't necessarily involve the children. Typically, when I do an adult activity outside the interest of the girls I take it to the extreme and end up fucking someone, because really can you get a more adult activity than that? But I think it's time to hang up the condoms for a while and focus on different adult activities that aren't quite so, ahem, adult.

Maybe I'll learn to knit, eh? Sounds fun and exciting and mind consuming. Right?

6.01.2007

Cough, hack, sneeze, *wheeze*...

Been out for a minute.

Kids been sick.

I've been sick. As a matter of fact, I'm still sick. Grown ass woman with an ear infection and strep throat. Kiddies are sick with thrush, yeast infections, wheezing and ear infection and pink eye (all Trinity) -or- 5 canker sores in one spot on the lower lip that swelled to enormous proportions and prevented food consumption for several days, slight fever, coughing, and pink eye (Jaalyn).

We are a sickly - but germ swapping - household.

Been deep in thought and evaluations (eh, when am I not?)... revelations to follow at another time. In the meantime, I've been tickling myself with some wonderful sites on the internet. They amuse me to no end, especially in my current man hating, die-you-dirty-rotten-sons-of-motherfuckers, stage.

I mean this site here? LOVES it. It's delightfully wicked. Were it not for a lawsuit pending against the creators I'd snatch the idea and expand on it tenfold.

And this one? My house is a Beyonce shrine. Jaalyn and Trinity adore Beyonce. We own cds, dvds, magazines and watch live performances on AOL and anywhere else we can get them for free. We are Beyonce stans without a doubt but within reason. This site has so many little nuggets of truth hidden within the cleverly written, albeit sardonic, descriptions about females in today's music industry. Beyonce aside, most of the female artists out today are either mediocre (hello Amerie and Kelly Rowland) or just plain suck (talking to you Cassie and that damned "Lipgloss" girl). And the fine print disclaimer at the bottom of the page? Slayed me.

These days I need a good laugh. I'm finding little joy in everyday dealings.

I'm tired and worn out. I'm angry, hurt and bitter. I'm vulnerable and girly. And I hate it.

And I hate men because most of this bullshit I'm feeling stems from them. You know, I've dated black men, white men, Salvadorians, Mexicans, Latinos, Turks, Italians and so on.

And you know what? Ultimately, no matter where they're from, how their raised, the color of their skin, or their spiritual beliefs... they are all the same.

Fucking assholes.

What I wouldn't give to pour Clorox into the man pool of the world. Take out all the impurities, the lying, cheating, no good bastards...

Doubt there'd be anything left other than a few bleached tank tops and boxers left behind though.