The 13th Apostol

He Can Spend $800.00 on a Violin, but he Can't Pay Child Support...Lovely

...and while I'm over-joyed Mer has a violin, the request was for a FUCKING KEYBOARD to take piano lessons with (which I could afford)

"Well" Mr. Aspbergers says "what does Mer want?"
WHO GIVES A SHIT WHAT MER WANTS at this juncture.
He has a phenomenal Piano lab at school, a student at Classen SAS willing to give lessons, but HELL NO...
Mer gets a damn VIOLIN (just like the guitar he bought him five years ago, but never paid for lessons.

No sheet music BTW either...THAT I get to pay for with my right, no...left breast.

THEN I dared to leave him on my property without supervision, and he plowed over one of my solar lights with his stupid mower.
To which Lowes exclaimed "If you bring us the receipt we'll get a metal spike out of a box" (Oh, yeah, right...THAT receipt I kept)

I'm trying, Oh if you only knew how hard I was trying.
Overdrawn due to food stamps being cut, and "Sigmund the Sea Monster" shows up with a violin that would feed his son for several months...like a Prince!

The realization of what a complete and utter bitch I am is truly sinking in.
Are we going to listen to a 10 yr old as dictated by a...FIVE yr old...or am I going to make my child's life better than mine was?

Regardless...he sure looks cute with that tiny violin.
(I didn't know they made them so small) and MER is happy, which is all that matters.
I'll shut my mouth now, but thank you for reading.

I Have Lived An Icredibly Amazing Life!

...for this alone I am blessed beyond any sense of reason.
How I've done the things I've done by myself...this blows my socks off.

Never have I given up, never have I said (truly) "I quit"...
Nothing ever turns out  the way we "Expect" it to...sometimes it's better!

No A/C, so it's damn hot, my hands keep slipping off they keyboard. : )
I'll figure it out, I have the Nets directions and a toolbox to make any man drool. No fool am I...unless you ask Mer.

"Mom, why don't you just call someone to come fix it?"

He's such a little male.
BECAUSE you are going to art camp, that's why (not that I'd tell him this)
I bought this worthless home warranty in September, thinking the $590 I spent would cover the faulty central A/C.

Wrong.

Did you know your air conditioning is considered part of the plumbing in a home? Since they found roots in my lines back in 12/07 my plumbing is now voided...stop laughing.

NEVER use American Home Warranty, no matter what. They'll wiggle out of a Houdini straight jacket in a split second. You can do it yourself.

So Mama s now a heat and air...person, making sure not to cross the red wires with the black. Have you seen the movie "Mama Mia"?

Indigo Girls trump Michael Jackson any day...

"I'm tryin' to tell you somthin' bout my life, maybe give me insight between black and white, the best thing you ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously...it's only life after all"

Life...is GOOD, life is simply LIFE!

INTRO-spection Equals Red, Swollen Dog Vaginas

When one takes the time to look inside, not out.
When one takes the time to accept people (ALL people) for who they are...one receives peace.

The truth is, it's not Mer who's disappointed and hurt by the Dono-, er I mean his father...tis I. I'm the one who hasn't let go, I'm the one who holds the resentments.

Mer has never known anything different, therefore no expectations for his father to BE different. I on the other hand, remember when...

Guess what, "When" is long gone, and has been for, oh...I don't know ELEVEN YEARS. Sheesh.
It's like the cartoon when the light bulb suddenly appears over the characters head...I finally got my light bulb. (eco-friendly of course)

Mer accepts, and to some degree loves his father in his own way.
My job is to stay the Hell out of it and stop trying to "Protect" Mer from getting hurt (by my resentments)

I shall now attempt to clean off the roof of the house, which involves climbing a ladder and 100 degree heat, BUT...no Prince in wolfs clothing...or however it goes, is around to do it for me, SO...mama does it herself, as she does it ALL. (ROAR!)

Man I wouldn't trade this life, no matter how much crap has piled up in my office...This is MY life and I answer to no one, no man...

Oh Christ how I wish I had a man! (relapse) I'm OK now, eh hem.

The dogs vagina has a rash, she itches constantly all over her little body, so three times a day I give this fucking rescue dog benadryl in a treat w/ peanut butter, put aloe vera all over her, and have purchased Eukanuba "Sensitive Skin" formula.

How in the Hell did this happen, that I would have a baby again...and the hair, I wont even go into the hair. We have concrete floors, so in order for her to get enough traction to scratch she goes to the throw rugs (which used to be multi-colored Mexican rugs and are now WHITE.

It breaks my heart to take her to a Vet (sheisters) but it looks like I'll have to, unless I can find an organic vet...you should see this pour baby's vagayjay! Red, swollen, itchy...and last night I found the first flea. (I just say how it is)

I'd rather have a house full of tarantula's than fleas.

So as Mer BONDS with his father (barf) I will do my best to support it until it SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME! I will take care of the fucking dog and be one of those bitter old women who can only love their animals.

...and that cute little mutt made me love it.

I Fell For it Again & Mer Got Hurt...Again

I...am a rip-roaring bitch when it comes to my child.
On Sunday, the donors stupid birthday, mer decided he wanted to pick out a key-chain and give him a framed photo of his soccer pictures.

Me, being the ever-loving-never-forgetting-the idiot-hasn't-changed-in-eleven-years mother I am...said "Of course we can sweetheart.

I fell for it.
I fell for the LIE when he said "I'll be there at 6PM sharp"
No, for real, I truly believed he'd never, ever, disappoint Mer again because... it has a girlthing.

My hopes were the feminine influence would cajole said donor into following through with his commitment. We waited until almost 8pm and left. Had it not been for he young waitress, his stupid gift would've sat there as we left. Mer doing all he could to act as if he didn't care...that's why my ten-year-old cried himself to sleep that night.

I'VE TRIED DILIGENTLY TO INCLUDE "Sigmund The Sea Monster" in all of Mer' extracurricular activities. From Scoutingt to Dance, to his three week long camp at ARTWORKS. Allowing myself to be held hostage for pennies again. I've invited "SIG" and his THING on picnics, over for dinner...all for the sake of developng a relationship with mer.

The reality, and I'm hard nosed on this one, not the first time you've heard me rant about The Donor, is...he doesn't want to be a father in any way shape or form.
He finally found an ovum he could implant and that's that.
End of story.

Beginning of mine. Halelujia!

I suspect there is a finding in the letting go, although I've single handedly with no family, no Holidays but mer & I, no EXCUSE for not giving this child all I have, found a way through grace and faith in a Universe so enormous...to do it. To give his life value and meaning.

Through the school he atends, the teachers he has, the excitement of being a child. Something I didn't receive. (Being the perfect child I was)

To Hell with his father, he was never a father, and many moms reading this will undersstand. We love our babies more than life...and then there's the other halves who want a nut more than to see a picture their child drew.

I've dreampt of daddy's who would love Mer like their own, truth be known he would always be someone elses child. So I do it alone, and I do it well you sonofabitch : )

Nuff said.

Le Petit Frida at The Unemployed Philosophers Guild

So about a year ago a friend of mine went to Mexico and brought me back all this Frida Kahlo stuff.

Next to Kandinsky & Klee, Frida, (who's "Self Portrait with Monkey" along with an Icon of Christ were placed above my crib as an infant...we're talking 1964, so my twisted personality began early) is one of, if not THE expression of my pain & loss. Using her art to survive insurmountable pain throughout her life. Emotional and otherwise.

On one of the tags to a gift was a website called PhilosophersGuild.com
So I decided to check them out. OMG...I found a Frida doll! Complete with uni-brow, skirt and pearls...check her out here. I mean how flippin cool is this?

Almost as cool as the finger puppets. You think I'm kidding?
I almost ordered the Emma Goldman puppet, but became so angry I couldn't locate my credit card...

"Sucker" (uhh, that would be me)

It's 4:30am and I'm cleaning pee.

I might as well be changing diapers for Christs sake.
The VERY cool part is the concrete floors. It's as if Achilles is just meant to be here. True, the coloring of Mer's bedroom floor has taken on...how can I say this, a deeper shade of azure blue in some areas. It's a floor. She is a creature of love. Big flippin deal.

Which doesn't bother me since I have a product that takes away the odor and stains like nothing I've ever tried. (from vinegar to boric acid) Even before the human in a dog costume came to live with us, absolutely nothing would clean these floors.

The economy sucks right now, and I know everyone is saying "It hasn't affected Oklahoma", but every other day someone stops at our house trying to either paint house numbers on the curb, or sell me something.

Two weeks ago a man came by with am eco-friendly product called "Clean & Simple" ...."Yeah, yeah, yeah, look buddy I understand times are tough, but they are for me also" he kept right on pitching me. Dropped to my tire and cleaned the rust off my wheel rim.

"Do you have pets?"

I said "Come here I want to smell you something" and he followed me into the house where Mer was sitting on the couch rolling his 1/4 th Greek eyes at me.

"Look at that, and that, and THAT" I said "Nothing gets the discoloration and odor out of these floors."

"Wow" exclaimed the former AT&T employee, "I've never seen floors like these before!" (Perma Crete, but make sure you NEVER lay it over pre-existing tile)

So Mr. Whateverhisnamewas, dropped to his knees, pulled out his handy dandy metal brush, squirted a small amount on a spot and started scrubbing in a circular motion. Within seconds I had a beautiful teal...circle. Then he wanted like $75 a gallon. Sure, like that's going to happen.

He left me his number, which has fallen into the dark abyss that is my office, I thanked him and requested he leave. Which he did.
I looked over at Mer and he was NOW shaking his head AND rolling his eyes. (am I married? Crap)

I started cooking dinner (because I eat for twelve) when I hear Mer yell "That guy is back!" (like a stray dog)
Going to the PORCH this time with Achilles losing her mind, he says "I found an extra squirt bottle in my truck...keep it, no charge."

"Really?" "Really"
Either extremely nice man or extremely good salesman...or both.
(but you're not coming back in my house regardless of the heat)
I offered him something to drink and we sat on the porch drinking iced Chai tea.

Everyone has a story, every life has value, and sometimes all we need is someone to listen.

Now...all I need is more "Clean & Simple"
(Sucker)

"If I we're a Rich Mom, yadadadadadadum!"

I want...Oh so many things, but right now I want ceiling fans in each room and on the veranda.
How's that for self preservation? (Running the A/C at night when it's 68 degrees is ridiculous) We have no air flow due to all the trees and the flat concrete thing I own.

In lieu of the above mentioned ceiling fans, Mer-Boy will attend "ARTWORKS". A three week long art camp provided by the city arts council.
(Whether he likes it or not says Mother Rose)

The beauty of Stage Center, is, well it looks like our home....
Concrete and re-bar showing through the walls, long narrow corridors with brilliant colors. It's a bit lacking in windows, where as I, Mother Rose would be claustrophobic if left too long. Read about it please, phenom!

You see the '70's were different. Parents were "Finding themselves" instead of their children. Oh, some did, but only to make a political/creative statement. "LOOK what MY child can do!"

I know where those 70's babies of the brat pack are now, and it's not much better than where I am. We, as in us, had our babies later in life, learned about global warming, HATED disposable diapers filling our mother...we've grown our own food, home schooled many, were changing the cycle (LOL)

So our children can be card carrying Republicans once again.
(Hey, I'm still registered Rep., but that's only due to "Him")

Wanting ceiling fans and a green roof, wanting to make this Earth better for our children...those are good wants. I get tired of being cattle. (Moo)
As gas prices are rising to $3 a gallon, and no one can afford to give their children a vacation across America in the back of a Ford Rambler Station Wagon...what's it all about, Alfie?

Mer will learn much attending ARTWORKS. He may not realize it for years to come...but this, THIS is why I took the grant writing course.
501(c)(3)'s who expose children to everything from better nutrition to a level of the Arts they may otherwise be unable to experience.

We, as communities have an obligation to mold these young lives as best we can. Lead-a-horse-to-water-type thinking.

Whether they are still wrapped in a Mobi, or are telling you they hate your guts...by God we owe them...they are all of ours.

Mer-boy Punches His Friend in the Mouth (can't imagine why)

This whole frontal lobe testosterone thing is about to kill me.

I understand the psychology behind what happened. Dog bite, frustration, pecking order, emotions unable to control...but I have never laid a hand on my child in his life. We don't use physical violence as an acceptable form of communicating feelings...(until now I guess)

In discussing, because that's what we DO, Achilles biting Mer, the truth came out he was (get this) blowing in the dogs ear. Apparently something Mer has done on and off since we rescued her, because he thinks it's funny how she turns around and...well, you know how dogs are when you blow in their ear. THEY DON'T LIKE IT.

Achilles finally got (please pardon the pun here, it's early) "An ear-full" and told him, the only way she knew how to knock it the Hell off. I hope he got the message, because she could've ripped his face off.

It's like having a younger sibling, not the face-ripping part, he's partly jealous of the time Achilles is with me (sigh), and partly the amount of...RESPONSIBILITIES having a dog entails. When Mer wants to play a video game, Achilles wants his attention NOW. If she doesn't get it, she finds something of his and chews it up.

Can you say "Bakugan", ipod Ear buds, and sundry items at her disposal?

Achilles is just being Achilles. She's a Rat Terrier...what the Hell do you expect? All she wants to do is fly. She runs like a rabbit, can catch wild cats, squirrels, and one opossum who gave her a nasty bite.
Then she'll lay in your lap with her eyes closed as you rub her belly.

Achilles is a good dog...as long as you don't blow in her ear.

Mer is growing at the speed of light. A toddler I knew, a Kindergartner I knew, all through the last almost eleven years I KNEW. Now I have a pre-teen who wants me, but doesn't...and I'm out of my parenting territory.

Part of me wants to "High Five"  him for sticking up for himself with the kid he slugged. He's angry he's small, he's scared he's going to die, he's pissed at his father, he's furious we don't have a new car, we lost our big home, that I treat him like a baby half the time, it just goes on.

I'm going with the frontal lobe-testosterone theory.

I love this child with all my being and then some, but I must allow him the right to be angry at me.

The best thing I can do now is help Mer find appropriate outlets to express his anger, which I'm trying to do.

He is so creative it's mind boggling, so intelligent it scares me I cannot keep up.

But the anger...

It's part of the process.

Dog Bites Mer-boy in the Mouth...WTF?

I have to put the dog down, I don't see any way around it. A dog bites a child and that's behavioral. In it's nature, she's just too broken.
I cannot risk taking her around other children, cannot risk giving her away. If she did it once, she'll do it again GOD DAMN IT...I love that stupid dog. I've worked diligently since November to socialize and heal her abuse. Some creatures are so broken, so if you have ANY real advice, no "Opinions" please...I'd be grateful for feedback asap.

Because I'm completely wanting to take the beast out back "Great Depression Style" and put a slug in it's head, I'm cooking (which is ALL I do lately) instead.

Ribs w/vidalia onions, carrots and new potatoes. (I don't know if that's how it's supposed to be done or not, but it smells good as Hell)

I've lost my mind. I don't cook, I take the baby to Zorba's for shish kabob on pilaf. I literally had to call another mother to figure out how to cook some weird form of meat the other night...a "Round Steak" perhaps? Don't know.

Our Food Stamps were cut to...get this, $16 a month due to my income increasing from his fathers wages being garnished for child support, but they only give me less than half the garnishment (insert eye rolling). Like the Feds think a mother can feed a child on $16 a month healthily.

If I were a Foster parent with 14 kids, I'd be raking in the dough, but I'm only a parent with ONE so I guess I get to talk trash. (I'm a big old trash-talker)

The only thing $16 a mo. allows my child is free breakfast and lunches at school. (To hell with Summer break nutrition) And by now I hope you know what they feed my child and yours is utterly unacceptable.

The reality of having to grovel after the abuser makes you wonder what the state and federal government truly want you to become?
Productive members of society or sign fliers who are abused into nothingness?

Hey...great helpers of domestic violence victims, remember when you helped me after "He" threw me out of our 3800sq ft home? Remember when I was sleeping in my broken down Honda (Oh Christ she's not singing that song again is she?) Well...do YOU? Now you garnish his wages and keep HALF because you helped me THEN. THAT, is absurd. So out of the garnishment, I get crapola to raise his child. I call bullshit.

I will never give up, I will never quit trying to change things for myself and other little ones. I am my fathers child. If you know what I mean, no explanation needed. If you don't, stick around.

We have babies, children starving in a city which is spending millions on architecture over the S. Canadian River.

A boat club down there now....a walking track..it's all about "The Pretty" and underneath the pretty is an ugly shade of slate. Where children go hungry and adults are hustling to make a buck.

If you're old enough to remember the movie "Network" with Faye Dunaway, William Holden and Peter Finch...you remember the "I'm as Mad as Hell and I'm Not Going To Take this Anymore" diatribe Finch reels live at the cameras during a lightening storm.

If you're not, here. Sit back and "enjoy". Odd how not much has changed in over 30 years.

Dirt Under Your Nails is Akin to Baby Poop Under Your Nails.

I...should be at the pool. That's what I DO for God's sake.
Anyone who's ever known me knows...I go to the pool, and don't leave until September. (I tell everyone I'm 62 now)

DAMN...lookin good mama! Eh hem.

Digressing.

I haven't been writing because I became so wrapped up in this "Committee" to engage healthy foods in OKCPS, so busy trying to change the world instead of myself, kinda slipped my mind. These words are what heals my heart, what carried me through the day.

Now I lay in bed at night and worry about things like the A/C breaking, how I'll pay off monetary debts, what if the dog has worms, do others think I'm an odd bird, will my vegetables survive?
Sure sign of lunacy.

My front yard and court yard are a magical wonderland of lights and blooming so-far-haven't-killed-them-yet things. (photo's to follow)

Mer-boy left for Chalice Camp this morning it's been exactly five years since I began writing after I finished school....and many don't like the way in which I present my opinion here. I either am who I am for me, or I am nothing.

(If I was getting paid to write here, that would be a different story.)

Time seems to fly and work is picking up, committees, children, sunshine and good strong rains now and then. (I am OLD...I LOVE my Garden)
Never did I think we could make this place so wonderful after the loss of 44th street. Dirt under your nails is akin to baby poop under your nails.

One works diligently to raise a child to be a decent human being...then as it should be, they begin to push you away, need freedom and room to grow. One then has the choice of restraining that growth or encouraging it.
My father gave me good strong values as a child, then let me go. When I messed up, which I did on a consistent basis...he was there for me always.

I ran into Mer's "Pater" yesterday, and cried and cried in his arms. In public, in a circle K parking lot. I needed to I guess. Mer at Chalice Camp safe and having fun...the flood gates opened after the longest school year of my life. I feel strong again this morning (mentally) He's in a relationship.

I don't want a relationship, I've had my share.
What I want is good friends, a happy child, time to read, excellent meals, a clean office would be nice, and eight additional hours in the day.

As I'm walking through the discomfort of losses in my life, I walk barefoot.