The 13th Apostol

Mer-boy Does Tai Chi

We Must Leave the Things We Love

I better do this now.
I overslept. Stayed at my old next door neighbors house till 1:00 a.m. babysitting for her son so he could live another day.
No one gets how hard this motherhood thing is if you don't get to go out and play on a regular basis.
We MUST leave the things we love, in order to return and love them more deeply.
Dang, how hard is that?

My friend J. and his wife W. just adopted not one, but THREE little girls...AT THE SAME TIME. I'm waiting for breaking news that London has erupted in a mass of unexplained whirling electrons, creating a worm hole the size of, of, of, whatever large landmark they have in LONDON y'all. ALL because J. and W. flat out refuse to go out and play. Don't want to traumatize the damn babies, or anything.

Fuck.
I'm sorry, but I can't do this trapped happy mom routine.
I missed a meeting yesterday, because i didn't want to ask for help, didn't want to ask all three of my friends to let Mer hang for a WHOLE HOUR so I could go quiet the dragon.

After my friend got home last night, we agreed she would watch Mer several times a week while I went to a meeting, and on Saturday nights I'd watch her kids no they could live another day.

That, and were gonna see about getting her brother off Methadone.
Wonderful evening all in all.
And yes, it's still raining.   

Resentment (and the "Love Machine") is the Number One Offender

Little to no sleep last night.
Tossing, turning, RESENTING...
There's a 1980 Chevy Van with a flat tire backed into my driveway.
Not just a van, a "Love Machine"...you know the ones, and I want it GONE.

No child support since November, two months behind on the storage unit payments I was altered enough to believe the man could make, and there's at LEAST $200 worth of scrap in that thing.
Hold on, I'll go take a picture...this one you have to see to believe.
Where are my shoes? CRAP, where are my sho...

Can you even BELIEVE that? It's been in my driveway for the last MONTH! I live here, this is my neighborhood, nice, quiet, peaceful, NOT GHETTO.

It's just ridiculous he even brought the thing here.

Why? Because it was going to get towed at HIS HOUSE. I am truly a sick individual, this I am beginning to realize. He is The Mer's dad, and try as I might to think otherwise, he loves the little guy.

But being a dad is more than just doing the fun, easy shit. By fun, easy shit I mean...Cub Scouts, Chess Club, and playing on MY electronic equipment when he's supposed to be visiting Mer.

Hater.

The Winehouse Dialoge's

So The Mer and I are watching The Grammy's on my bed last night, right?
We all know from a previous entry The Mer said "No, no, no" to rehab...

Here dear reader, begins the journey...
An opportunity slapped in my face by the smoky haunt of one the greatest voices ever to grace this earth...for most probably, an achingly short flicker in time.

The Foo Fighters Nirvana legacy, Amy's dying ember, my son gets to hear the truth about addiction...theirs and mine.

There is no cure...
Terminal...
One out of two...

"So Amy's gonna die Mom?"
"If she doesn't get help, yes."
"When?"
"That's the hard part Mer, some of us can stay alive for a long time, but it's not really living it's just sucking air."
"Mom?"
"Yeah baby?"
"I used to be afraid you wouldn't wake up."
"Me too kiddo"
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm not that afraid anymore"