The 13th Apostol

Of Losers and Winners

Having a bit of a hard time finding my keyboard underneath all these impending, doomsday bills (The FIRST of the month)
Before I go on a rant, about all the things I CANNOT do, let me tell you about the little old miracle that happened in Mer's life Saturday.

Now remember, this is a child who's central nervous system is shot all to hell. How we never know from one moment to the next how Mer will respond to any given situation in his life. He is extremely critical of himself, despite my constant gushing of approval, love, time, adoration and whatnot...if the kid isn't the BEST, or at least damn close...
he crumbles to pieces, sometimes giving up completely on whatever the task at hand is. It's truly exhausting and heart breaking to watch your child beat themselves senseless over spelling words.

Friday was the 3rd quarter awards assembly at Mer's school. LAST awards assembly he spent in house suspension for what I can't recall, but I let it slide thinking somehow it would teach my 'special needs' child a "Lesson" (I'm an idiot). I was working 60 hours a week, trying to get the house livable, single parenting, blah, blah, blah, and I didn't get there until AFTER the assembly.

On Friday, I was preparing to study with a friend when I get a phone call from a mom at Mer's school notifying me of...THE 3rd QUARTER AWARDS ASSEMBLY.
"Oh crap" was all I could think. I had half an hour to get down there, knowing full well there would be no awards for my child. I'm his MOTHER, that's how.

By the time Steph and I arrived, the place was already packed with parents (how do these people KNOW about these events? Oh, they must be more ORGANIZED than I)
It was excruciating watching not just Mer, but other children, each face fall as this Dragon lady slowly read out loud one name after another...none of them theirs.

One question?

Is there not enough fucking aluminum in the world to give each student in elementary school a GOD DAMNED award? I believe I've had this rant before...come on people, how well is this awards system working for those kids UNABLE to learn the way you teach? Yesterday at church there were FIVE mothers in the RE lounge, one of them the head of the PTA, and every one of us felt the same way...there's a GINORMOUS problem with the way things are, with our broken children as a direct result of institutionalized learning...another post.

So SATURDAY Mer, feeling like the slug of the earth for not winning an award at the awards ceremony, and I, the single mother with cut-off notices, a broken foot, tumor in my back, no narcotics...hobbled together to the Cub Scout's PINE WOOD DERBY.

Last Tuesday at the pack meeting, one of Mer's pack leaders, or maybe he's just a dad, threw Mer's car together in like FIVE minutes, because I arrived with it still in the box in pieces (see above) or Mer wouldn't have had a car to f*cking race. sigh.

The Gym was packed. The Pinewood Derby is apparently up there with getting Bar Mitzvahed, because grandparents, aunt, uncles, camera crews with tri-pods, were lining the walls of the place. I think I even saw Billy Ray-freakin-Cyrus in the crowd...not sure.

I was in pain both from my leg/back/foot, and for my boy, whom I knew, given his track record in life, there was only heart ache and me picking up the pieces afterward ahead...yet I can NEVER show my fear and pain for him. So I sat in the crowd with my CRAPPY iphone camera and took pictures.

And do you know something dear reader?
That little spray painted wedge with the wheels and weights thrown on in under five minutes, started zipping past all those fancy cars with cool designs...one heat after another.

The Mer's white lightening, #19 won all four races...and I couldn't believe it with my own eyes.

Now it was LESSON time, because some of Mer's best buddies were in the corner, and on the playground crying their eyes out. Yes, it's AWESOME to win, but it's even BETTER to be there for your buddies when they don't...which my kid was. YES!

So out of 30 kids who all had dad's to help with their cars, Mer's SIMPLE wedge placed 3rd and that's HUGE in the Pine wood Derby apparently.

I like to believe the little guy had some people thinking "Happy Thoughts" about and for him. It's reminded me of how important SIMPLE really is in life.

Mer left the Derby worried about his friend Zach, who he plays with, takes dance with, and Cub's with (or whatever you call being a cub scout together) because winning was so important to Zach.

Mer was so used to losing, that somehow he couldn't fully enjoy winning. He never really got excited and I don't understand. Mer did text Steph and tell her he won and that made him smile.

After we left the awards assembly on Friday, Steph and I were trying to get Mer to think of something that's special that isn't a "Thing" and he was so upset he couldn't.

Her text back to Mer after he told her he won 3rd place reads "Awesome! Now THAT is something to feel special about! Good job!"

Moo

CRAP, my foot hurts.
This is what pain killers are REALLY for huh?

I think it's a combination of the constant pain in my back I'M USED TO, combined with this throbbing broken foot I'm NOT USED TO...that, and I'm a whiner.

A grateful whiner, but still a whiner. I'm still here aren't I? Still somehow have net, gas and lights...SOMETHING is happening beyond my capacity for reason. Oooh, kinda freaky huh?

I realized this morning as I was reading a site I normally don't read, and will not link to due to it's nature, I know little-to-nothing about the candidates this year.

I didn't vote four years ago, and (Oh the hell I'll get for this next sentence) will not be voting this year either. Nope, not gonna do it AGAIN...why?
Because it's a system that has repeatedly failed. Why will this time be any different? Because the entities involved are? Give me a f*cking (I'm gettin better) break.

We are LIED to year after year, and NO ONE seems to get it? What would happen if no one voted for ANYONE? What would happen?

Imagine.
Imagine. Imagine.

IMAGINE ALL THE PEOPLE LIVING LIFE IN PEACE.

cattle.

BeliefSystem.net

I am a believer, when one door closes another opens.
Friends, if they are true, accept you for who you are, not what you believe.

Two people I love deeply do not share anything close to the same belief system I do.
Why is it I can accept theirs, but they cannot accept mine? What is it about my freethinking that scares them so?

I'm saddened to awaken from a synthetic fog, to see their only "Hope" for me is salvation by their God, saddened they cannot love me as I am, will not for one second consider coming to my church, or discussing my beliefs, although I've attended theirs on multiple occasions always with an open mind. The truth is they are not interested in my beliefs, because they are not their own. They are afraid of my beliefs, what brings my heart joy, what has been keeping me sober.

The solution is letting go.
Like I'm letting go of our old home, neighbors, possessions lost in storage I cannot afford to get out, Mer's bicycle, my bicycle, refrigerator, clothes, etc, etc, etc.
The Japanese live in micro-homes, with far less space than we...it is OK to start over...again. t is OK to make new friends, be a new friend, chose people with common beliefs, or at very least ones who do not feel the need to pray for the salvation of my heathen self.

Heretic = to chose.
Like I CHOSE not to take pain killers for this broken foot because I am enjoying being sober just a tiny, itsy, bitsy, bit. And...one is too many, a thousand not enough, where would it end?
Take the f*ckin ibuprofen, wear the boot, and keep on trudging the happy road...the road to happy destiny, WHATEVER, I never get that one right.

The Mer has his IEP tomorrow after school, and I get to make amends for my, MY behavior...I really don't want to. I'd really much rather sit here feeling superior and shit to the rest of the world. My kid is watching EVERY single thing I say and do. Sucks sometimes, especially when I've shown my ass inappropriately.

All I want to do is be a good mother. I don't have anything in common with those moms who play with their kids at the playground after school. Then yesterday as Mer and I were leaving dance, I see all these moms and their kids on the playground, two of which go to First U., and one of which I had said something to about the other. (just info about a mutual friend, not bashing)

Hmmm, wonder how long THAT little piece of info took to get repeated?
This is exactly why I don't hang out with "The Playground Moms". That, and they all have husbands to carry the load with them.

I'm not, nor will I ever BE a "Playground Mom"...so f*ckin shoot me. We run on such a tight schedule, if anything is going to get done, like homework, cub scouts, dance, chess club, now soccer...there's not enough time in the day, nor enough of ME to go around...and my "friends" are too busy praying for my salvation to give me a hand.

Hellooo? New friend time.

Of Kotatsu's and Broken Bones..

The mer is in the living/dining room eating leftover homemade "Sgetti", green beans, and the white part of a hard boiled easter egg...what's it called? The yolk? No, the...(this is what chemicals does to your brain)...well, the WHITE part.

Mer adores hard boiled eggs, and Easter hard boiled eggs are the best. but this kid even when he was bitty didn't want anything to do with the cannibalism of consuming dead baby chickens. "No yellow stuff mama", you got it Christ child.  Allow me to scoop the fetal contents into the trash for you my precious.
"Thank you mama"
"Hmm hmm, here."
...and off he'd tromp, leaving a trail of...the white stuff behind his tiny wobbly self.

We don't have a dining room, therefore the need (and space) for an actual dining room table is pointless. What we have can only be described as an early American garage sale "Kotatsu" style table...and The Mer loves it's perfect height for eating, homework, doing art, and the like.

I on the other hand, secretly grieve every poor decision I've ever made regarding men who were to give me the world...and a real dining room table. But enough about my pathetic grieving of victims men.

After the joyous 40 degrees below Easter Egg hunt, for which I have zero clue why we participated, the few women I semi-trust demanded care of Mer whilst i took a trip to the ER to confirm what I already knew... "I am a whiner"

Turns out "The Whiner" not only has a broken toe, but foot to go with it.
This should be an interesting week coming up.
Excruciating (AND I MEAN EXCRUCIATING) pain + no pain killers + not a tumble weed soul in sight willing to tolerate my ass long enough to help out...
Yeah, this is gonna be memorable y'all.

En Memoriam/Xristos Anesti!/Happy Easter

Last night The Mer and I were late guests at a memorial service for a loved one.
I didn't know the man personally, have any sort of relationship with him to speak of...

yet I went, broken foot stuffed into my Max Azria's, the only skirt I had to fit being one of near floor length, thank goodness for the black Banana Republic layering turtle necks I invested in while working the mall last Christmas...

And there was my boy, little blue short-sleeved oxford, navy argyle vest and tan corduroys...he was darling, so darling, the pain in my foot made us late, kept me from taking pictures, I can't think straight. This is the foot that took all the weight from the pain in my back when I walked. I don't get the luxury of pain killers today.

So we went to the memorial, then tried to go out to dinner with dear friends of the man en memoriam. Friends, people I owe money for work done to my home. Money I have owed for three months now, and they wanted to buy Mer's and my dinner...because they are that way.

These are people in the process of losing their home because of people like me, and it makes me sick. Sick that I am so self-absorbed in my Max Azria's, sick that I am unable to take care of my child properly. Sick I was more functional ON pain killers than OFF.

The memorial, which was sacred, was an honor to be invited to. I am still so far from being THERE. I stumble through a bible like I'd never picked one up before.
Well I HAVE, at least FIVE times.

There was a man I knew once, named Andy.
Andy accepted EVERYONE, honored ALL paths as sacred and I thought Andy was as close to Christ-like as any person I'd ever met before in my life. I knew/know Andy has a purpose on this earth, his purpose is to touch lives, change lives by his very presence.

I used to read his blog all the time, but it became so painful watching someone I knew achieve their dreams, their goals, their passions. So I stopped. As long as every day is a battle just trying to keep the utilities on, there is no room for creative flow. Ask any single mother she'll tell you the same. We're tired, we don't get a break, we don't want our children thrown away into state-sanctioned daycare...we just want someone safe to spend time with them OTHER than us.

I apologize, my foot hurts like hell and nothing, especially this post...makes sense.
What I know is Mer was pretty happy with the potting soil from the dollar store, and that beats a wii game any day.

CITY ARTS CENTER Spring Break

The bills are piling up, and where have I spent my Spring break?
People, it got to the point, the groveling from church to church for $25 here and $50 there, all of which I am grateful for...was destroying my soul.

The Mer got scholarshiped shipped, whatever, at CITY ARTS CENTER, for their Spring Break Camp. The slight problem is the ratio of children to teachers.

Every day, I have received a call from the office telling me Mer was dying from a rare incurable disease, and could I please come down asap? (Hold on, the male cat that uses me for food is screaming at my window) I also broke a toe somehow yesterday...ANYWAY...

So my week has been filled with running down to CAC after my noon meeting, and hanging out with...well, with all the kids. It's pretty funny (not funny) how once I arrive, and sometimes before I arrive, Mer bounces back from the gates of death and rallys! So I end up helping some kid named Venus, or Rafael put together their "Dream Box's" while Mer acts as if I don't exist...go fig?

Yesterday, I got tied up after the routine call came in from the front office telling me once again Mer was on his last leg. I made the mistake of going to the grocery store first to buy a stupid dozen eggs because some jerks stuck Jesus on a stake...
I was inadvertently LATE getting to CAC, and I shit you not when I saw my kid he was one giant red splotch.

HIVES!

OH Lordy I have BROKEN my kid again!

I gently removed Mer from the main art class, taking him to a corner room with bean-baggy-chairs, we struggled through some visualization techniques, but Mer was having none of that "Eye closing thing"...

Being his fathers son, he of course was not TALKING to me, and all I could think was what I would want at that moment "Mer, do you want to go outside and play?"
"YES!"
So, we did.

The entire week has been a struggle for Mer.
Day one he made the executive decision to "class up" with the 5-7 year olds.
Telling me the 9-12 year olds were too rough with him, pushing him around because he was so little. Hmmm.
Instead, he's had to deal with 'screaming heathens' all week. (Mer's words not mine)

How do I help this little guy face the world without hives, without getting his head routinely thumped by those around him?
I've loved the time spent with these kids all week, it's beyond me how anyone could want to do anything other than create art with children for the rest of their lives.

Of course Mer and I don't do it at HOME or anything, not yet, but someday...maybe even soon. The pain of my past, of losing art supplies, homes with perfect light, space (storage and otherwise) can all be healed from.

On this upcoming anniversary, of a sacrifice made to the world, of Spring and new beginnings, the Equinox, remembering we are all ONE...I have found a connection to these children, not just my own splotchy, neurotic little guy who just needed to play OUTSIDE for half an hour, then was fine.

Someone, a friend I screwed over recently, by about a grand, used to tell me all the time how good I was with kids. I was on PK so I officially knew she was full o shit but she didn't. Each day that passes, each day I notice the world around me a little more (and remember the people I screwed over more clearly) I'm awakening to this REALITY I never knew existed, even pre-PK.

I'm AWAKENING to this REALITY within and without, telling me, SHOWING me, there is something so loving in this world, so healing, it might even heal me.

These kids I've worked with this week are pure, innocent, creative, alive, and DESPERATE for attention, just like Mer. The difference is, Mer knows I will come, I CAN come. While not all parents are in my wonderfully unemployable position, and I'm certain would come if they could...I like to believe they would anyway.

So the PLAN (here she goes) is to speak with the director today about a background check so can OFFICIALLY volunteer. I, at least have THAT going for me...a clean record, and GOD KNOWS how that happened?

Calamine lotion, hugs, watching "Lost" together on my bed...

Sally Kern: Apologize and/or Step Down

Sorry, my computer has a nasty virus, my printer is connected to the computer, and I'll be damned if i can't figure out a way to do much of anything these days sans pain killers.

With that said, I was handed this at church yesterday. By one of our brilliant, talented, creative, spiritually alive youth - there are many in a Unitarian Universalist congregation - and asked to please attend, please support, please blog about something that has broken my heart and opened my eyes.

Broken my heart - for the obvious hatred and fear which motivates this poor womans soul.

Opened my eyes - to the reality that so many people I consider spiritual enlightened, leaders, and gifts in my life feel exactly the same way this woman does. (not that they'd admit it) And I am saddened beyond belief I am so blind to the hatred in this world.

I was raised by two of the most amazing people I have ever known, who taught me the commandments through their actions, not words...I am weary of words, of judgment, of hatred. Yet it's as real as these keys beneath my tips.

"We will love you, accept you, embrace you, as long as you are just like we are"
Truly I ask, what kind of world would this be were we to all be identical? Clones of the Prophet Christ? Where would there be artists, scientists, inventors of all things holy and of grail? I think at most there would be a primrose path of sacrificial personal neglect.

I was not raised to hate that which is different, I was raised to be in awe of that which is different. To honor all paths as sacred, leading to the divine within.

It is time for me to have "Faith" if I stand and deliver my core beliefs, the Universe will find me as I am.

Whole, complete, creatively alive, and then and only then will I be able to proclaim my strength through surrender...which empowers me, you, we...as One.   

Sailing

I believe I am in many ways unique and special, we all are.
There is great confusion as to why ego deflation, humiliation, and punishment have to be a part of 12-step programs.

Judgment of "sick" people by their peers makes even less sense, and it's been one hellofa long time since I felt acceptance by people in these places.

I'm considering a hiatus from this blog, a time to get my bearings, a time to find the friend within me, the woman i used to love a little. I am hungry, angry, lonely and tired. Mostly lonely for like-minded souls.

Ones who love me as I am, not pray for my salvation by their God. It gets old fast, the walls just become bigger, stronger, better reinforced.

So for tonight, I will crawl into a freshly made bed, with a freshly bathed Mer, and breathe in his sweetness. Knowing this moment will be simply a memory as soon as slumber takes us sailing wide.

A "G" is What Comes After F and Before H

I had a conference with The Mer's teacher yesterday.
Her side of the street aside...
Why is it so hard for me to say "I was wrong"? I mean, I eluded to it, but that's so not the same as owning your shit.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, is doing the best they can with what they have to work with at this very moment. I believe this to my core, I always have.

Could I handle a class of 30 kids?
I didn't have to be an ass, I didn't have to lose my temper with the art teacher, I didn't have to lose my patience with the secretary...but I did, and I might again if I don't start making some serious changes in my attitude and outlook on life.

The Mer and I are extremely lucky to have him in a school like that...EXTREMELY LUCKY. They have done for him what no other school I know of could have done, and here I am being the biggest shithead of them all.

The truth is, I haven't felt like I had anything to offer the school, like I was this single, broke, dysfunctional mother, who had nothing to contribute...pretty much true. I made futile attempts and felt like a total loser (true again, the futile part)
The Mer has been more of an adult in his ability to be teachable this year, than his mother.

I'm not condoning how this situation with Mer has been handled by the staff, what I am saying is this: They are over crowded, stressed out, UNDER paid in relation, and using all their resources to make the school and it's students a unique learning experience FOR ALL...not just my precious angel.

Every Tuesday and Thursday I watch Mer's after school contemporary dance class practice. The instructor is gifted, the children are engaged, and I, I am humbled by my sons ability to be "a part of". Something I myself have forgotten how to do.

Last Thursday after we left class, Mer asked me what a "G" was?
Being the brilliant wit I am replied "what comes after F and before H"...
"No mom", he hissed, "so and so keeps saying he's a "G"...what does it MEAN?"
I tried again to play dumb, forgetting my kids IQ is actually higher than mine (don't go there)
"Honey, I don't know...maybe it stands for "Good Guy", or "Great"?"
"Mom, Blue said it stands for "Gangsta"...is that true, and what's a Gangsta?" (Blue is one of Mer's friends from his previous school and neighborhood - great kid, awesome parents, crappy school) IMHO

This was my moment of clarity regarding Mer's current learning institution. The simple fact he has no clue at almost ten-years-old what a "G" is...tells me something is working in the right direction.

The problem I have, is not having control of my child's education. I feel helpless to change a situation that's affecting all parents and students at his school, not just me and mine. I am powerless to make it better, afraid we have lost what has been such a blessing in our lives, and when I get afraid...I get angry. It all comes back to fear.

I get an opportunity to do things differently today.
For this I am LEARNING to be grateful.

Marie

My hard drive crashed with all my email addresses in it. I have no way but this to thank you for what you have done.

Tell the kids the eggs are BEAUTIFUL, I don't know whether to save them for Easter morning, or decorate with them now! We lost all our Easter decorations in the move, so these are our NEW BEGINNINGS!

As I write this, I am looking at the envelope with the seeds you gifted me with last Summer. I don't know when to plant, but Easter Day seems like as good a day as any.

I am learning, as is The Mer, what makes a family, a family...and it doesn't begin with Nintendo, PSP, or wii.

I have been a shitty friend to many, a brown recluse to the rest.
You are dear to me always, and I love you today with a sober heart.

How Far From the Tree is Safe For Apple?

Thanks to Angela for correcting me, it's Kern's KID, not grandkid who needs the witness protection program.

http://www.queerty.com/sally-kern-scrubs-gay-son-20080312/

In The Spirit of Self-Rightous Indignation

There are events, shifts and flutters that happen in this Universe...no one knows why, some INSIST they do. I scurry away from the insisters as you might imagine.
Where I have no answers, something does. Something KNOWS it, I, Mer, will be fine as frog hair as long as I'm doing the damn deal.

Having come here in the spirit of "Rage", "Narcissism", and the ever popular, "self-rightous indignation"...I will find the lost thing I'm so achingly seeking, if it kills me I will, and it may. None get out alive now do we?

Why I haven't presented in the ER with my arsenal of "Skills" is beyond me, bigger than me, given the fact I have every EXCUSE, (and necessary documentation) in the world to do so. To those of you reading without true knowledge of addiction, it's hard to comprehend.

I am not speaking to you.

I am speaking to the ones who do. This is why I tag my posts with "Recovery", so someone out there reading understands they are not the only one in the world who has kicked personal property in a fit of rage, poor kitty.

We do not get through this "Looking good", nor do we wake up one day clean and sober full of gratitude. For me, gratitude is something that happens as rarely as humility or a sane thought. I do not like people as a general rule, and that may never change, BUT...I have learned to love one human being on the face of this earth unconditionally. One.

That's one more than before...so as long as I'm sucking air and walking through the war zone of my life in the aftermath... there's hope for that fucking cat.

Sally Who?...Oh, Kern.

Sign the petition so her gay grand kids can go into the witness protection program.

I'm so proud to be an Okie, next thing ya know some damn GAYS will blow up the new Federal building.

It's not her opinion that bothers me, she is entitled to it, no matter how idiotic I may feel it is. What gravely affects me, and YOU, is her opinion in the POLITICAL arena. Her RELIGIOUS opinion in the POLITICAL arena.

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/request-to-terminate-sally-kerns-position-house-of-representatives

The Sandbox Variety

Shit.
I had a relapse.
A Sea Monster relapse.
Forgive me if I don't link to the posts in which I refer to "He who shall not be named" as The Sea Monster, from Sigmund and The.
But at the moment I am doing a contortionists act trying to write, tangled wires, cables, mouse tails, keyboards leading NOWHERE...all to a dead tower with our lives trapped inside.
Why?
Because as always, when it comes to things electronic and or Net...The Sea Monster aka Dumbass, aka, biggest loser on the face of the earth WHO I DARED TO BE IDIOTIC ENOUGH TO TRUST AGAIN...installed me six months ago.
Now, no one knows what the hell the moron did, nor are they willing to touch the mess, the FIRE HAZARD under my desk.

So what do I do? What do I do when all else fails?
I call The Sea Monster and leave a message on his stupid digital voice mail (like you need to disguise your voice from the FBI)
By the fourth word in my message, it's something like..."GODAMNIT MARC, YOU SONOFA...you get the point.
Sea Monster relapse.

So here I sit, unable to retrieve data, unable to print, and yes, I'm a spoiled FUCKING BRAT...when I work my ass off to take care of He-who-shall-not-be-named-other-than-the-Sea-Monster's kid, and the loooooser sits on his ass all day, waiting for the Sherriff to come get his dumb ass, saying things as assinine as "God protects alcoholics and fools"

Would someone please shoot me?
I was HIGH when I met "He Who", hell I've been altered in one way or another most of my life, either chemically, relationships, FOOD, lack of FOOD, money, it goes on and on people.

I know far too many people who sit on their thrones passing judgment as they stuff their mouths with more than their share, hop from bed to bed, charge up those credit cards...and dare to call themselves sober.

Sorry. I want EMOTIONAL sobriety this time, not the sandbox variety.
So if it's too ugly and messy watching me get it, I STRONGLY suggest you don't read.

Epiphany

If I had a dollar for every time I used the word FUCK in this blog,
I could pay my bills.

Word.

My Name is Mud

The Cox cable guy is here, adding mud and cables, power box things, and mud...did I mention mud?-to a bill I cannot pay.

Now this, this is funny stuff.

I realize the problem is me, I realize I cannot fix the problem of my own will. I even realize my life is completely unmanageable, BUT its always been this way.

Its like waking up from a bad dream, or coming through a hurricane and seeing the after affects. Its ugly. If Iv'e never been able to "get it" this far, what makes me think I can now? Why is this time any different?

The Mer and I had a good weekend, for two people trapped in reality with nowhere to go.
I made some mistakes, but they say I'm learning and that's OK. I don't know if it is or not, but the upside of being broke is you lose weight.

What the hell did I just write? This is what 34 days looks like. In-freakin-sane.

I have to address the school/teacher thing too, because I am an ass...that's why.

Whatever.

god is a Sadist

I have done all that can humanly be done. There is no help anywhere for my utility bills, and I cannot fucking believe I can't pay them.
The bills I kept current for two years to buy this home, I cannot pay.
I'm not super-fucking-woman.
Now I have all this godamned daylight to contend with...yea! I get to look at the mess that is my life, a few extra hours. Well, hale-freakin-lujia.

I don't remember ever being this angry at myself for being such a failure of a mother.
All I can think is "Why were you so selfish to bring a child to a life like this?" And the little shit keeps loving me! Keeps loving me like I'm his godamned hero.

I never hit Mer, not once...but I've done my share of emotional scarring, I'm no saint. However I NEVER, not once implied any of this massive shit hole life was his fault.
Because it's not.

He didn't cause it, he can't cure it, it 'aint about him. I love Mer more than life, but  when the utilities get cut off, I have nowhere to take him. That's what the man who's sperm I used to get pregnant with Mer thinks...thinks I'll bring the boy to his house, where the utilities NEVER get cut off, because HIS BROTHER pays the fucking bills.

It...will...never...happen...dude.

I can't take pain killers, because I'll end up railing them...
I can't work/move/think straight because of the fucking pain...
If there is a god, he must be a sadist.

Just My First Thought...

Apostol thinks it may perhaps be time to grow up and start being accountable...

Naaaaw.

Things Unseen

I have a brother. His name is Cliff.
When he was born I was so excited, I couldn't wait to hold the new baby, love the new baby...
my mother, the neurotic, didn't like me to get near the baby... it made me want to hold the baby even more. So one morning very early, I crept into the baby's room. There was Cliff like he was waiting for me, big giant brown eyes...he looked like mom, I looked like dad, funny huh?
Cliff was a BIG ASS BABY y'all, ten pounds at birth, and two feet long. I'm sure he'd gained a few by this time.

I recall not being able to manipulate the side of the crib to allow the gate to slide down, making access to the cribs contents much easier. I climbed over the side of the gate, my almost four-year-old self managing to somehow hoist this giant baby back over the side of the gate. Stopping on the floor to get a better grip for the trek to the living room, where cartoons awaited the both of us.

He was silent the entire, what seemed like an hours journey, only occasionally looking uncomfortable as my grip on his massive frame stared to slip. I had prepared a blanket with pillows on the living room floor, just like mom built. A baby fortress for safety...and there we eventually landed, my baby brother and I.

He was so pretty, so fat and funny. I had waited so long just to hold my little brother, feed him a bottle, love this mysterious baby who grew in my mothers swelling belly.
After awhile the suns impending arrival started bluing the windows, early yet, our intimacy was shattered by the angry woman-child from behind me...

"What are you DOING?!!!!"...I can hear the shrill of her voice in my ears still. I don't ever remember holding Cliff again.

The message she sent us both through the years, destroyed any chance of us loving each other. Destroyed any opportunity for my brother and I to have a relationship.
She hated me because she hated herself. She could adore him, he was male, it was easy. Psych 101.

My brother and I talk once in a while, with short-circuit promises of "Getting together next week" for the past two years. I want to tell him it's OK to love me, even though she said it wasn't. I want to tell him she was wrong for destroying us then, but she was just so broken...but I wont.

I wont because I can't keep hoping for things unseen, can't keep waiting for "Next week" to come, can't keep thinking up excuses to tell Mer when we see his enormous black hummer around town, and Mer exclaims "Mom look, there's your brother!"

You fear me, just like she taught you. Your not even sure why, all you know is you do.
Now, like that day at the crib some thirty-eight-years ago...
all I want is to love you.

Ooh Ooh, I'm Luke, I'm Luke!

You know the scene in "Cool Hand Luke" where George Kennedy is beating the shit out of Paul Newman in the yard? Newman refuses to "Stay down Luke"...

"What we've got here, is a failure to communicate"

In Response to An "Anonymous" Comment

"Sounds like a terrible school. Maybe you should take Mer out and find a better place for him. I can't believe those teachers are punishing your child for lying to them! What will they think of next, suspension for bringing a knife or gun to school? You have handled this is such class, it's not like you cursed at a teacher over the phone or went down to the school and called the secretary a "fucking bitch."

Oh, wait...you did."

Posted by: insight is eyesight

Let's be clear, I said to a friend NOT the secretary (as I hung up the phone)... "The fucking bitch laughed at me", after I had made multiple attempts to reach Mer's teacher over, you guessed it..violating his IEP again. The "Gatekeeper" (now, don't get all sensitive, you felt the need to comment "Anonymous") informed me Mer's teacher after all had the staff Christmas party to attend that evening and was quite busy. (this was when she chose to find humor in the urgency of my request.)

Student in crisis trumps staff Christmas party, as far as I am concerned. OUR CHILDREN COME FIRST, yes even before a staff Christmas party.

So no, I've not once stepped foot on school property and been inappropriate, not like they've been with my child...

I know it means extra work and all THAT baloney, but you WILL educate my child per The Americans with Disabilities act, and if I have to show my ass at that school every day for the rest of the year to ensure this happens...
I, of course will.
Unlike you...I don't just see test scores...I see my sons value, worth, and inherent dignity as a human being.

Try it sometimes, it does wonders.
Oh and thanks for reading!

The IP address of the "anonymous" comment came from...
Oklahoma State Regents For Higher Education

I suspect you have better things to occupy your time than reading my silly blog, with all the rampant pretend licking and compulsive liars running around destroying the sanctity of your school. Now that I know I have your attention, I'll see if I can make it more interesting.
 

Lost Things

For the first time in his life, The Mer went to bed hungry last night.
There is no worse feeling as a mother, than having to tell your kid "we don't have any more"
I'll come up with something today, go visit someone.
I need a job under the table so we can keep our medical, and someone to pick up and watch Mer until I get off work. Then just start digging out of this hole again.

Again, because I let the man who's sperm I used to get pregnant with Mer hang around here for three months saying he was going to get a job and pay that child support.

How could I be so stupid?

Last night Mer asked me if his dad was ever going to come over again, and I said "I'm going to tell you the truth Mer, if he does I will ask him to leave...do you know why?"
"I think so" said Mer "Is it because he isn't my REAL dad?"
"What do you mean, your REAL dad?"
"Well, REAL dads are like Zack's dad, or Calvin's dad, or Jack's dad...so I just figured Marc wasn't my REAL dad. That's all."

I thought about the name on Mer's birth certificate, the name that wasn't Marc's, because Marc denied Mer from day one. Another man, a man who could have been Mer's REAL dad had I not allowed Marc around Mer, signed his name not only on the birth certificate, but on a paternity affidavit.

He was a wonderful father to Mer...and then he left, left both of us all alone.

"No Mer, Marc is not your REAL dad your right. REAL dad's are like Calvin, Jack and Zack's...and you deserve one too sweetheart, but your stuck with me for now."

Then I tucked him and Leopard in, went to my room and cried for lost things.

Where We Came From

I should never have bought this home.
I had no business buying anything when I was dependent on the man who's sperm I used to have a baby to survive financially.
Not getting his crappy $237 since October, plus the $400 I spent on the doctor the first week in February..has ruined me financially. Exactly, and I shit you not...$637 overdrawn at the bank.

I've struggled over the last two years to get out of debt, struggled every month NOT to get overdrawn, pay for gas to get The Mer to school, lost all our food to rats in storage...we literally have one can of ravioli in the cabinet and that dear reader is it.
No refrigerator, no ice box, and all these FUCKING churches I call are like "Are you a MEMBER?"

Oh here we go again. Even when I was tithing 10% to that hypocritical joke of a church, month after month, they were so proud of me (just keep it rollin in because we know GOD WANTS YOU TO BE RICH!)

WTF? Where does it say THAT in the bible? I think it was more like "Give away all your crap and follow me"

Liars, big FAT LIARS. To every sucker that walks through their doors, they just keep on lying. Guess what? I know the truth and if I can survive this fucking system then the truth will set me free.

I don't know if I can stretch one can of fucking Ravioli an entire month, but you bet your sweet ass I don't have to go back and sit there listening to the lies just to feed my kid again. Oh HELL no.

I'm trying to teach him the truth, trying to be a clean and sober mom, trying (even though Mer calls it child abuse) to teach him responsibilities. I had been giving him an allowance for the first time in his life...it's his money anyway, and the man who's sperm I used to get pregnant took that away from him too.

Some people call me "Bitter", "Angry", and "Resentful", I call it honest. People don't like to hear the fucking truth, not about their fragile little religious beliefs...God doesn't need you praying for my salvation, if it makes you feel better, by all means pray away.

But when you find out your perfect husband is on the rock again, or sleeping with his secretary, or your kid is gay, mother has cancer, dad really didn't love you as much as your big sister/brother...then who are you going to blame for not seeing with the eyes God gave you? Accountability goes both ways.

I am neither bitter, angry, nor resentful. I am honest, and most people dislike honesty as much if not more than they dislike the differences among us. I took The Mer to an all black congregation last Sunday, and I will again tomorrow. Not BECAUSE they are an all black congregation, but because they happen to speak the truth. I must desensitize Mer to the fact they are an all black congregation, in order for him to HEAR the truth.

Like so many of us,
he has forgotten where we came from...