extended family drama

Okay, let's get this over with. As soon as I publish the circumstances surrounding the "Corey drama", I can, hopefully, move on to better things.

First, introductions. I have two stepsons, Corey (now 18) and Roy Jr (now 22). My husband has maintained custody of both of them since before we began our relationship together.  They lived with us and I raised them for the last 14 years. When I first met them, Corey was 4 and Roy Jr. was 8 years old. 

Then, we have their mom, Raquel, aka Electra, aka Raquel Raquel, aka the absent parent.  Raquel has not been involved much in the boys lives.  At first, she was fairly consistent about visitation, showing up most of the time, albeit late  (which would upset the boys).  I recall, as Jr and Corey waited hours for her to pick them up and finally, Jr would declare, "If she doesn't show up in the next five minutes - I'm not going."  I didn't know how to respond.  This was my first time parenting and my first time step-parenting.  On the one hand I could try to cajole them but would I only be setting them up for disappointment again, and a bigger fall? I believe in frank honesty with kids, I always have, but it was hard to know what to say and what not to say.  No sense in sweet talking them when it just misleads them as well.  On the other hand, I wanted to relieve their pain too.  What could I say?  So, most of the time, I said nothing, leaving her actions to form their relationship.  

I do recall, standing in the kitchen with Jr and Corey, and somehow Raquel was brought up and I stated, "Despite what you two think, I do not hate your mother."  They both laughed as if to mock me and said, "yeaaaah, riiiiight. (hahaha)"  I repeated, "No. I do not hate your mom, but I do think she dropped the ball with you two.... that's all."  I went on to explain (maybe trying to provide some sort of mental cushion for them), "...she's simply repeating what she knows. Your dad told me that Raquel's mother left her, her brother and sister when they were very young too.  She never had a very close relationship with her mom."  

About two or three years after the divorce, the boys' visits with Raquel grew further apart, and for shorter time frames (at most once every 2-3 months and those visits usually lasted only a few hours to a day). At this time she was concentrating mostly on her career in "modeling". She had moved to Austin and we were back in Victoria; she always seemed to have some good excuse now like the car broke, or she had to work, or whatever.  Usually these things conversations/excuses were between her and the kids.  She knew when I was home, and when I worked, and her calls came in usually while I was at work. It's funny to me now, that she's said recently, "since the boys are on their own now, maybe she'll get to see and talk to them more often." As if I had played a part in her lack of involvement, but I do take comfort knowing that the boys were there all along, and they were quite aware that I played no part in that.

My husband, having been common-law married to Raquel for 10 years, is my source for the information I have heard of her. He told me that because Raquel's mother had abandoned the family, Raquel's brother grew up a family with no blood relation to him. I'm not sure exactly about Raquel's sister's upbringing, but Raquel grew up transitioning from one friend's home to another to another. Eventually, she met Roy and moved in with him and his family. She was only 15 years old when she had her first baby, and Roy was 17. Further, Roy has said that much of Raquel's family are members of the Mexican Mafia. My husband has always displayed a quite serious fear of them. I, however, and my "it will never happen to me" attitude, have always belittled his fear of them. Then came the media coverage of the arrest and conviction of her cousin of murder charges. 

Roy and Raquel were together for a total of 10 years, evolving into a common law marriage. When I met Roy, he told me that he had suspected that she was cheating on him on and off throughout the years. Even so, he never caught her red-handed and because of the babies, he didn't want to leave her unless he had hard proof of her infidelity. Approximately 1995, Raquel left Roy for her then boyfriend, Felix, a local police officer. She had moved in with Felix and become pregnant with her third child (a girl). She left her eldest son, Jr, in Roy's care and kept Corey to live with her. It was just a short time later that she telephoned Roy to say that he should pick-up Corey as well; but by the time Roy arrived to take custody, Raquel had changed her mind. Roy was not going to back down this time as it was his desire for the boys to be raised together. Drama ensued and the police were called to the scene. Once the police arrived, they determined that Roy would take Corey with him, and Jr and Corey have remained in their dad's care and custody ever since.

It was during this time, Roy and I began seeing each other seriously. He had told me that they had already filed for divorce and was simply waiting on a court date. I found out several months later that this was a lie.  We were traveling to his parents home and we were just down the road from their house when I asked him about the status of his divorce as it had been so long and he should have received a court date by now.  He pulled the car to the side of the road and took a deep breath, followed with a confession and ridiculous explanation that, as he understood it, if he and Raquel remained separated for a period of time, then their marriage would be automatically be annulled. I assured him that was not the case, and that if he was not going to pursue a legal divorce, our relationship would end, but that either way, I did not want to force him into an unwanted divorce. He assured me that he wanted the divorce. 

As money was tight, and the divorce should be a fairly simple one, I drafted a Decree using my own divorce papers and a divorce manual which included forms. The Decree stated that Roy would maintain custody with Raquel having routine visitation (as stated in most custody papers) and that she would be relieved from the duty of paying child support. Raquel was served by a process server. However, as she was not familiar with routine legal language, she decided that the papers were a trick to get her to eventually pay child support; therefore, she refused to agree to the terms in the Decree and obtained a legal-aid attorney. In response, we sought out and retained an attorney (a top of the line and expensive attorney). Roy's attorney re-wrote the Decree, this time stating that Roy would not only maintain care and custody of the boys, but would also receive child support payments from Raquel!

In court Raquel asked for custody which, based on evidence, was declined. She then asked for half of Roy's 401K benefits, again she was declined.  She then asked for half of Roy's Profit Sharing benefits, again she was declined. Roy's Divorce Decree was granted (it was 2001).

Based on Raquel's lifestyle over the years, it's obvious (to me), that she never truly desired full custody of the boys; she simply wanted to ensure that she would receive some of his retirement benefits and be relieved from paying child support - but this is NOT to say she didn't love her children! She did. I just think she knew she wouldn't raise them in the environment they needed to be raised. She knew that she couldn't commit to the boys because it was her desire to pursue her dreams, dreams that did not involve taking care of a family.  I never faulted her for this - but I did fault her for not maintaining consistent visitation with her children, and for playing Corey as a favorite over Jr.

Raquel went on to have her baby with Felix. They lived together for a very short while, and then she left him and her baby daughter as well.  

I recall working at a lawfirm, my desk was on the second floor of an old, and very nicely remodeled courthouse.  I was busy doing my work and looked up to see a very promiscuously dressed Raquel standing in front of me.  My shock at seeing her was apparent and she giggled when my mouth dropped; all of the other secretaries just stared.  I escorted her into a private room to talk and she asked if I would help her draw up divorce papers.  Still stunned, I accepted and explained I would need a few details to incorporate into the Decree.  She said she knew how  awkward it was for her to approach me, given that we never really got along.  Against Roy's better judgment, I drew up the Decree but never heard from her again. So, they preceded with their divorce without my help. It came to my attention later, through the boys, that the papers were drawn up giving Felix full custody of their daughter and Raquel did not have to pay child support. I assume that, after she'd learned the hard way with her first divorce, she jumped on this offer in her second divorce. And note, that although she was ordered to pay support in Roy's divorce decree, she didn't pay past the first month.

Again, I'd like to express that I have no doubt of Raquel's love for her children, and in the process of pursuing her dreams (bare with me, I have a tendency to make excuses for people, even her) she had many ups and downs, which likely included moments of torment and regret for not being a more involved parent, moments of worry over them and their situations (were they being cared for the way she would want, and so on). Obviously, this is a surmise by me based on hints here and there - only she would know her actual situation, reasons for prioritizing the way she did, and making her decisions based on whatever.

*

As a little boy, Corey's personality had always been cheerful and funny, he loved to make people laugh, he loved to help others. I remember looking for my flip-flops, and I without even asking for his help, he jumped up and began looking for them. My little hero when he found my shoes and presented them to me with a big, proud grin. Being that he was only four when I began raising him, he was always comfortable enough around me to test me some. I remember telling Corey to do something and he instead he spouted off at me, refusing to do what I'd asked. I told him again, but again he refused. I remember looking at him in amazement as if to say, "uh, boy - are you really standing up to me??" because it was so unlike him but noticing his half-smirk and laughing eyes, I knew he was testing me.  I just stood there, and a wave of comfort took over me as I thought to myself, "cool... I'm glad he's comfortable enough with me to test me", and I just let it go.

The boys were both very easy to raise for the most part. We had ups and downs of course, but I could count on one hand how many times Jr was punished over those 14 years, and two hands for how many times Corey was punished. Though they were definitely manipulative on a whole different level than your average kid; honestly, it sometimes scared me.  They would manipulate my son, Aaron, into doing things that he shouldn't and I had no way of proving they were involved. It didn't help that Aaron was the protective and naive sort that would defend the boys out of a desire to be accepted. So, consequently, Aaron would receive the majority of the discipline over the years, after all, wrong is wrong (but I did get more selective over my battles).

When I first met Corey his teeth were falling apart, literally. At four years old, his teeth were discolored (a brown and dark grey), and broken into sharp points. You could see the decay and you could see the insides of his teeth and roots were exposed. Worse, Corey had a major "sweet tooth". I remember finding him crouched in a closet with our sugar container eating it up with his fingers, and he was not in the habit of brushing his teeth daily (I would have to stand over him to be sure he would brush them).  But I felt most of his dental problems stemmed from family genes and the over-use of Albuterol treatments (his dad and grandparents treated every sniffle Corey had with an Albuterol treatment - foregoing the usual over-the-counter remedies). Now, thousands of dollars later, his teeth have been removed, repaired, sealed, capped, and regrown. Whew!

In high school Corey was involved in an altercation with another boy. From Corey's perspective, this boy flung food at him and shoved him. Corey reciprocated inappropriately. The schools here have a zero-tolerance policy for this behavior, therefore landing Corey with a formal court hearing. Corey got a fine and short probationary period.

Puberity hit and Corey (15 years now) met a girl, Miranda, on the internet.  Initially, I believed his hem-hawed account of knowing this girl, but later I found out he'd lied to me. (I recall another girl he'd been talking with via the internet when he was only about 11.  I caught him proposing marriage to her which let me into my rant about internet safety and appropriate behavior. He blew me off. But it was then that I realized how "girl crazy" he was.)  More importantly, I had a very real fear that Corey would put our family in danger because of information he would put on the internet.)  Corey and Miranda arranged a personal meeting, and at this time having faith in Corey's promises, I obliged. It was all made easier for Corey, when the boys were given cellphones for Christmas (of course, Roy and I paid those monthly bills); and it came to my attention that Corey was staying up all night talking with Miranda on the phone. Miranda, by the way, had health problems that caused her to have extremely spontaneous seizures, and Corey liked being a "hero" to her. They would also playfully cut each other down calling each other "dork" and "nerd".  But as she was somewhat disrespectful to me and Roy, as well as Aaron and my two younger children (Jr was already in the military and missed out on this event), we all became quite disenchanted with her rather quickly. 

I recall Miranda demanding that I buy her specific foods when she was over, such as a burger and fries from a specific restaurant, and then a specific flavored ice cream from the grocery store. She would warn me that if she did not receive these specific foods she would have a seizure. I was not used to, nor did I understand, a young persons boldness and brashness. I remember her sending me to the store for Tylenol and when I returned with extra-strength, she sent me back for the "regular" Tylenol. Back and forth, back and forth, special trips to the store so she wouldn't have a seizure.  Finally, I explained that if she required special and specific foods to prevent her seizures, she would need to pack those things and bring them with her as I did not want that responsibility. 

I began confiscating the cellphone from Corey at night to ensure he would get some sleep for school the next day. By this time, I'd had plenty of "light bulb" moments that couldn't be ignored.  This was my "girl crazy" 15 year old son, and we did not want to see him getting a girl pregnant at 15  (as his father did). 

After viewing some of the texts and photos on his phone I had proof that not only were Corey and Miranda having sex, they were having unprotected sex, and there was a possibility she was pregnant. (Of note, we do have condoms in our home and I have talked to the boys about not having permission to have sex, but the condoms are there for them if they find they simply must have one.)

After talking to his father, I questioned Corey about a possible pregnancy. Corey admitted that they were intentionally trying to get pregnant. Corey explained that Miranda's rationale was that if they had a baby together, they would be connected forever. He knew it was true, and I could not argue with that logic either - it was true. We did, however, have a long talk about it, but it's hard to rationalize with a teen boy that is positive that he wants to be connected with this girl forever. All the what-ifs in the world weren't going to change his mind. Other "investigation" or "snooping" (whichever you prefer), proved that Miranda had attempted to talk Corey into lying to us and sneaking out. The deception was piling up and, eventually, Corey was grounded. This meant he was not allowed to go anywhere nor have Miranda over, he lost his cellphone privileges, and was given some additional chores. I printed out the conversations and texts between Miranda and Corey, and found pictures of Miranda on his cellphone that she had sent to him (pictures that a mother should never want taken of her daughter). Below is one of Miranda's promiscuous photos from her Myspace page - worrisome; and this is one of the more decent photos. Does her mother know? 

Miranda and her parents have exhibited violent tendencies. Theirs appears to be a very unstable and unhealthy environment. I feel her mother would flip-flop with punishments and then being too lax because of Miranda's seizures. I suppose I can understand how easily this could happen, it would likely torment me too in that situation, but I still feel it was to Miranda's detriment.

Later, we discovered Corey had snuck in another cellphone. I never found out where he got it, but his mother or his cousin are suspect. He was now facing punishment for this deception as well. We asked for the cellphone (many times and he refused to turn it over) behaving as if it were in his pocket, so Roy and I would not realize that he'd hidden it in the bathroom. He darted around as if to protect his pocket contents. At one point, I straddled over him while Roy held his hands away from me. Because Corey was hyperventilating from crying as his world seemed to be falling apart, his dad worried that I might be constricting his breathing, but I pointed out that I was not actually sitting on him (there was air space between me and Corey) and pointed out that if I had  actually been sitting on Corey then he would not be able to twist around so much - and I would not be so out of breath struggling to reach into his pocket. I confirmed that he did not have the cellphone, and exhausted with the drama - I left for work. Corey stayed home with his dad. Roy tried to talk to him, but got nowhere. Shortly after I got to work, Roy called to say that he'd found the cellphone hidden in the bathroom, and that Corey had darted out of the house and through the carport. Roy said that he had grabbed for Corey's arm, missed, and Corey slipped and fell, hitting his elbow on the concrete. We had just had a garage sale and the carport was cluttered with boxes of junk. Corey's failed attempt to flee only added to his tears, and he must have put on quite a display for his dad, as he refused to move his entire arm. Of course, Roy fell for it (he always did). Shortly thereafter, Roy called to request that I return home to take Corey to the hospital to get checked. I tried to convince Roy (to no avail) that Corey's antics were only an attempt for sympathy and that he was likely not seriously injured. I told Roy to just sit at home for 30 minutes, and if Corey was still unable to move his arm and continued his crying, then we would go to the hospital.  Less than two minutes later, Roy called again, frantic and insisting that Corey needed to go to the hospital.  Exhausted, I obliged.  In the ER waiting room, I informed Corey that he would be responsible for paying the hospital bill (as I was convinced he was faking the injury) and it was then that Corey began rolling his arm around in large circles as if to work it the kinks. Roy groaned realizing that he'd been had. Regardless, the doctor checked him out and it was determined that nothing was injured beyond a bruise. He was given "comfort" sling to make him feel better and we returned home.

That afternoon, Raquel, along with Corey's cousin, Amanda, showed up at the door. Due to the drama earlier in the day, I asked her to wait and talk to Roy before taking off with Corey. But she became upset and demanded to see Corey. I repeated that she should speak with Roy, but she began yelling at me. Roy was on the phone with his parents explaining the events, and they too became upset as well. They immediately came to our home too. Roy tried to talk to Raquel but by now, she was beyond rational communication. Raquel called the police, and tried to have us charged with injury to a child. Child Welfare arrived and assured her that we did not do anything that wasn't within our rights as parents. Roy's parent's also began yelling at me (and I wasn't even at the house when Corey received his fake injury!). Finally, Corey left with Raquel and the drama subsided. I talked to Roy about how Raquel was simply responding to Corey's lies and sensationalism and, consequently, I did not want Corey in our home - it wasn't safe for the rest of the family. Roy agreed, and I packed Corey's things. The plan was that after Corey returned home, he would be toted off to grandma's house.

Sunday evening, Raquel returned Corey. Roy and Raquel spoke outside. When Roy came in he took Corey to his grandmother's and left him. Roy returned home and informed me that Raquel stated she had "put her family (the Mexican Mafia) on notice" and all she had to do was "make a call and they would take care of us". We didn't report the threat - after all, there was no way to prove it. Roy then decided it would be safer for us if he packed and left, but as he packed he crumpled into tears; he couldn't follow through. We covered the windows in foil and Roy put in a request to transfer out of state, then we just prayed that having Corey out of the house would keep Raquel at bay. The request for transfer fell through but the foil remains.  No, I don't think foil protected us, but I did get a sense of relief that anyone outside would not be able to tell where we were in the home and would have a blind target - maybe not chance it.  I know - it's a naive sense of security.  I spent months watching the people around me very carefully - suspiciously. Picking up the babies from school, and worrying about the people around us and what ifs.  It probably seems as if this is all very melodramatic and normally I do try to rationalize this stuff away - but base on the following facts, I remain cautiously reserved:

1) Fact! Raquel loves her children with all her heart;
2) Fact! Raquel has hated me with a passion since we first met;
3) Fact! Mother's can turn vicious when they feel their child is in danger;
4) Fact! Based on the information she received from Corey, she felt her child was in danger - and that I caused that danger;
5) Fact! Raquel's family is in the Mexican Mafia;
6) Fact! Raquel has family currently in prison for murder;
7) Fact! Raquel feels like she needs to prove her love for her children and will do anything to do so, including (by her own admission) arranging a murder;
8) Fact! Raquel made a very real and vocal threat against my life (and even Roy, who had lived along side her for 10 years, and has known her family more so than the children have, was afraid because of her threat); and
9) Fact! I am not prepared to gamble in the even slightest  way with my children's lives.

I know Jr and Corey belittle her threat; they feel it's bogus. But these boys don't know her and her family as well as their dad knows them. He lived with her day in and day out for 10 years. The boys only saw her for a few hours a day, once every few months, at the most. Roy said her family doesn't need to wait for her to call, "all they have to do is be drinking...."  

Later, Raquel revised her threat to be directed at me only, not my kids. But my kids and I are extremely close, and they would totally be effected if something were to happen to me. Their emotional state would be detrimentally effected if anything happened to me. They would be a complete mess and Roy would not be able to handle the situation in a healthy manner. He would even let his fear of angering Raquel, and his desire to smooth things over, put the kids in another jeapardizing situation (he's done it before). Raquel put in a written message to me on Myspace that her problem was that I injured Corey's arm and then later stated that she'd taken him to a chiropractor who stated his back was strained.  Again, I wasn't even present when he'd "hurt" his arm. Further, he "hurt" his own arm by running and falling. Further, if his back was injured (and I don't believe it was as Corey never mentioned it) then it was from Corey twisting about so much - not from me sitting on him - I did not ever put any weight on him at all (if I had, he would not have been able to twist so much). Corey has never admitted to anyone the truth about what had happened that day.

The best part of this mess - the drama continued, only this time, it was at grandma's house! The grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins became so sick and tired of Corey's drama and lies as well.  They witnessed it firsthand! Miranda would have temper tantrums and damaged Corey's grandparents' vehicle, stole their phone from the house, and tore their door from it's hinges. All hell broke loose when Miranda's family attacked Corey in the hospital parking lot because he still refused to stay away from their daughter. Finally, tired of the drama as well, Corey's uncle tried to physically remove Corey from grandma's house. And Raquel called me! asking me to have Roy call her right back about the drama. He and I were at the theatre, and she called requesting/begging for us to go to grandma's house and calm things down. She sent me texts stating that she "seriously doubted Corey could do anything to warrant Randy behaving the way he did." (Really? It's all of the adults causing the drama? ......really?)

Eventually, Corey became extremely unhappy at Grandma's. He would complain to his father about their bitching, and Roy would empathize, having been there himself. Roy was very easy to "play" and Corey tried to use that to his advantage. Corey began disappearing for days without telling anyone, evidently staying with friends. Corey likes to portray himself a victim and manages to gain a lot of sympathy from others before it blows up in his face.

Corey stayed with his grandparents until his graduation constantly saying how miserable he was there. At one point I explained that he could come home on certain terms: (1) there was no drama, (2) he had to confess to his mother the truth, and (3) his mother had to make amends with me (this was important because it was her behavior/threat that caused his removal in the first place.  He decided he did not want to talk to his mother about the truth and would stay where he was.  Playing the victim was still too sweet a deal for him.

*

We always knew Jr and Corey dreamed of joining the military. So, when Corey disappeared for over a week and quit answering Roy's calls, we kind of knew that was where he went. We asked Roy's parents about his whereabouts - but they never kept up with him. You see, this is how they raise the children in their home - don't ask, don't tell.  They turn a blind eye to the child's behavior.  I explained to Roy that he really needed to call the recruiting office to inquire about it (I mean, helloooo, how long are you going to wait after your son's disappearance to call the cops?), but he refused saying that he didn't want to "snoop". Finally, I called the recruiting office myself and they confirmed Corey's enlistment. Roy was relieved but didn't tell the grandparents because he felt we obtained the information dishonestly (What?! what does that mean? How does that make sense, pleeeease? Your son is MISSING!). Eventually, I convinced him to tell his parents as they were becoming increasingly worried (but! not worried enough to contact the police, of course.)  Maybe, I shouldn't have called the recruiter; maybe I should never have talked Roy into telling his parents where Corey was; maybe I should have just let them all worry - but I did what I would have done had it been my own biological son. So, whatever...


UPDATED: Corey graduated from military bootcamp a few weeks ago and while we planned to attend his graduation, he asked if we would bring his "girlfriend" Danielle. We did. She was a very nice girl, very pretty. He stayed for two weeks with us in our home until last Monday, when he left for Alaska (where he was based). At some point he will be leaving for Afghanistan. Everything was fairly uneventful (as I stated in my previous posting). Today, on the way home from work, my husband Roy calls to say that his parent's neighbors noticed in our local newspaper that a marriage license was purchased for Corey and Miranda. It crossed my mind that he might pull something like this. Additionally, he and Danielle had appeared to be arguing. Roy asked if I knew anything, I didn't know anything (what does he think!? That I would know his son got married and not tell him!). I only had a slight suspicion because Danielle had expressed some extreme emotions regarding Corey on her Facebook. So, he's married. I suspect he is waiting to get settled up there and then he will have her fly up to be with him. We haven't heard from her family, which I don't look forward to. They probably don't know either. They too are all extremely violent, and so I have told Roy that I don't want any of them, including Miranda, at my home. I'm sure that sounds awful to say about a daughter-in-law, but she has done a lot of damage to Corey's grandparent's home, I don't need that at my home. I have two small children to protect and we work hard to pay for what we have.

Breaking the Rules

I have a secret of sorts. I started this blog and then deleted everything and re-wrote it. I suppose I felt like I had breached some sort of "blogger code" in the process. The problem was that in my initial blogs I was venting, and venting a lot! I didn't want to be defined by the angry portrayal I was putting out there with those posts. I simply hadn't felt like writing anything until I was feeling passionate enough which, consequently, was in those moments of complete frustration. I wanted to be defined as I was years ago, in my teens, a happy, bubbly, silly, giggly, cheerful, positive person. The truth is though, I've changed so much since then. I'm not so naive these days, a little more reserved, and angry too.

*

Recently, my youngest step-son returned home. He had been away at bootcamp for Army infantry. 

Our family has been through some kind of drama with each of our sons, and lately it's just been Corey's turn.  He'd caused drama followed with some lies to his mother (the absent parent who has family in the Mexican Mafia as well as in prison for murder). Reacting to what he'd said to her, my/our lives were threatened. I know it all sounds very melodramatic and I'm  the sort with the "it will never happen to me" frame of mind, but this time, I truly felt worried. (I'll get into more detail in a  later post, as I really don't have the time right now.) Needless to say, I still feel some animosity about the entire situation; probably because I don't feel like there was ever any real and proper resolution, nor did I get to voice everything I would have liked (not that it would have made much difference).

So, Corey returns home and as soon as he hits town, he is calling the girl, Miranda, that had helped with creating all the drama leading up to this "grand finale" (although, this time, it was easier to stay out of his drama because he is considered a legal adult now - note here what was not said is implied). I was disappointed again, but happy that he did manage to keep the drama from blowing up in our faces this time.

He's gone now. He's left for his military base. He'll be stationed there until May, at which time he is supposed to leave for Afghanistan. I pray that plans change and he does not end up in the war zone, and that if he does go to Afghanistan, he returns safely.

lies reap no resolution

grief
when our children lie
as it represents an inability
to acknowledge reality
to accept consequences

and
I understand
we've all told our lies
at one point or another
for whatever the reason

but
I've also known
individuals who have lied
so much
that they lose sight
of reality

child
I don't want that for you

if you say it, own it like a man
if you do it, own it like a man

we all know
the truth rarely
smells of roses
so
it's safe for you
to come out

we will
love you
still

Daily hmmmm

Wondering why we allow our fear of inconveniencing another to keep us from reaching out even to our closest friends and family?  Rather we suffer in silence?

Reminiscing

I wish my mom would blog her life details. She has told me so many stories but I don't remember them all and I worry that I won't remember the details accurately either.

This evening, I found myself sitting in my eldest son's car with him and his girlfriend, recapping some of the events in his/our lives. It was very nice, because although he had already known some of them either because he was there or because I had already told him previously, he didn't remember much of the details; as he is older now, I believe he may be more interested.

In light of this, I wanted to document some of the events we talked about. Maybe one day, he'll get to look back at this and be reminded.

Meeting Mark... I met your biological father, Mark, at work. I cleaned tables at Furr's Cafeteria, and he was the dishwasher. Yes, it was lousy jobs, but it was all I could get at the time and it paid the bills (barely). He was a sort of 'knight in shining armor' for me, as my marriage had fallen apart, and I needed a shoulder to cry on; he provided that. He did love me, I never doubted that; and in all those years that we were not together, it was always nice knowing that he was out there somewhere and that he still loved me (no matter what was going on in our lives).

When you were about four years old, and after my divorce was final, I was able to track down his sister, Sylvia.  She and I sat and talked and talked.  It was evident that she did not care for Mark's new wife; and she did feel fondly of me.  She told me where to find Mark and, eventually, I introduced you to him, his parents, Sylvia and her family.  I remember sitting in the living room looking at photos of you and talking about you to Mark's parents and Sylvia.  You ran around the room acting so silly (always have been the entertainer).  I think you used your silliness to hide your nervousness.  At one point Mark's dad tried to get your attention and talk to you, and you spit at him (just trying to be silly, and probably a little nervousness too - you were just a babe).  He was so shocked and I pulled you close to me and explain to you not to spit.  I dismissed it casually and explained your silly nervousness and that you didn't mean anything personal by it - they understood.  Four year old children can be so unpredictable.  They looked over your photos and talked about how much your resembled Mark, and never once questioned whether or not you were truly his or what my intentions were - though I tried to make it clear I wasn't looking for any financial help.  I think, at first, I had secretly hoped that we would get back together and that, maybe, I could put together a family for you that was close to normal. But as it turned out, he was already married (to Laura) and had another son, Matthew (then about 2 years old). Evidently, Mark and Laura were going through a rough patch at the time. Laura would leave to stay with her family for a while, and then return. When she left each time, Mark would call asking for us to visit him at their apartment in Houston. We did - but even then, it was clear that he would never leave Laura because he loved her so and he loved and adored Matthew.  Of course, that was fine with me - I never asked him to leave his family nor did I ever want another child to deal with being fatherless (the way you had to deal with it).

However, Mark was still very interested in keeping us in his life. His plan was to move us all into the same house together. I was to help take care of Laura when she had her seizures. I remember how Mark and Laura would talked often about the likeliness of her dying young and how the doctor had said that if she hit her head just one more time..... (It was weird.) This way, you and Matthew would grow up together, as brothers. Surprisingly, Laura appeared to be fine with that plan. She and I got along (although she talked - and a lot! To the point that it really got under my skin, but for the most part, we got along). Mark wanted to maintain a "close" relationship with me - and I suppose it would have been much like a bigamist household. But of course, I knew it was all too confusing and bizarre to continue with his plan - and you and I left.  I suppose I just stopped pursuing them.  I remember the last day you and I visited with them, I had come inside from sitting on the outside stairwell talking with Mark, and Laura was sitting at her small round dining table just off the kitchen. I sat down at the table and told her goodbye and told her to never, ever, ever let any woman come into her home to "share" her family.  That this was her family and she needed to protect and defend it.  I told her that Mark loved her very much and would never ever leave her and Matthew - I gave her a hug and left.

Blessed with you... It was very early (3:00 or 4:00 in the morning), and I'd been awaken again with mild but annoying back pains. They were few and far between, so I went back to sleep. An hour or so later they were much sharper and more occurring closer together. I realized this was my labor pains. I wasn't getting any sleep by now and decided I might as well go in to the hospital if I wasn't going to get any sleep anyhow. The water never broke. Chuck and I got some of the things together and drove to the hospital where I was immediately sent up to the delivery floor (hospital procedure for all pregnant women who walk through the door).

Chuck made the necessary calls to family, and Erica immediately called Mema. Poor Mema. She had gone on her yearly out of town shopping trip with Aunt Carolyn despite her intuition that you would probably come while she was gone. As soon as they got the news, she and Aunt Carolyn jumped in the car and sped back to town; normally an hour and a half trip which took them far less this time; lucky they didn't get ticketed.

Everyone began arriving at the hospital. I was given an epidural to ease the pain which, I might add, had become unbearable. At one point, I remember, literally, standing atop the toilet seat begging for it to be over. At another point I was crawling off the side of the bed and the nurse, fearing I would fall off the other side, scolded me. The epidural was a welcome anesthetic; and then, I slept.

Chuck and I had been dressed for delivery and I was being wheeled down the hall on the bed, when Mema came barreling in. She popped me on the forehead a few times to make sure I knew she was there, and I remember being quite discontent by it (fyi, never pop a pregnant woman on the head while she's being wheeled into delivery), but I responded so she could relax, and we were off.

Delivery was about as textbook and uneventful as it should be. Your head was a little stuck so they used forceps. And then, you were born. You could not have been more beautiful. Your hair was golden and so was your skin. You cried after being spanked a little by the doctor, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard (not a high pitched annoying cry but deep and boyish and beautiful). This is the moment, I truly felt my life change. Your nose was perfectly shaped, you had all your fingers and toes, your head was beautiful, everything was perfect. You had a beautiful  brown birthmark next to your belly button, which I didn't even know you had until your umbilical cord fell off.  Later, I would tell you that this was where an angel had kissed you before being sent to me. Funny, when I'd first seen the mark I had thought your tummy had been stained from the blue ink on the cut cord, and assumed it would eventually wash off. (First time mother's assumption.)

You were perfect, and perfect for me. God knew what He was doing, even if I didn't understand it all.

Almost lost you... Within the first week or two of your birth, I took you to Mema's home to visit. It was probably 9:00 p.m., and Erica was there too. We were all in awe of you; the first grandbaby, the first nephew, the first baby, and the first little boy! for us to experience.

You had eaten, been bathed, and dressed for presentation. As soon as we entered, Mema took you from my arms and sat holding you in front of her so she could admire you as you slept. We had not been there long at all, as a matter of fact I don't think I'd even sat down yet as Erica and I were standing in the middle of the room talking and glancing at you, when Mema said you were looking sort of blue. I walked over to see for myself. It was only a matter of seconds when I realized you were in fact changing colors, and blue went to purple quickly! I grabbed you and angled you downward and smacked your back hoping to dislodge whatever might be in your throat, I asked if everyone still had there buttons or whatever you might have swallowed. Buttons all accounted for, and considering the circumstances we all knew there was nothing in your throat (there had been no opportunity for you to swallow anything) and time was of the essence. It occurred to me that maybe some of the milk from earlier had made its way up in your throat and you were not swallowing it back down. I continued to pop your back with my hand,  but, still, nothing came up. The purple deepened as I tried to stick my finger down your throat. Nothing. I passed you to Erica and asked her to try. She had been in the child care business for some time and had taken various classes for this kind of situation. She stuck her finger down your throat over and over - still, nothing. Only seconds had passed, and fearing any more wasted time, I spouted, "let's go!" Still in Erica's arms, I instructed her to continue her efforts to dislodge whatever. I didn't believe anything was there, but I also felt that maybe the effort would stimulate you enough that you would react to it, and begin breathing.

I had a black T-top Camaro at the time and it was the last vehicle in the drive. We jumped in. The hospital was only a mile away and we raced down the street. Hazard lights blinking, air conditioner running, and the inside light was on as well for Erica as she struggled again and again to dislodge anything in your throat. All this time, you never made a peep.  Not one whimper, or cry.  The car was old, and running the a/c, inside lights, and outside lights, the battery would drain quickly and the car stalled. We were all in a panic and praying desperately to God, and begging you to react. I turned everything off, and the car re-started. We sped down the next road, as I turned everything back on. Again, the car stalled as we slowed for clearance at the intersection. A small truck with three boys in it pulled up behind us. Mom made the suggestion we ask them for a ride. I said, "GO! GO! GO!" She and Erica, baby in hand, ran for the truck as my car started again but I didn't want to take any more chances with my car. I couldn't take the chance of it dying again and having no alternative help. The Camaro would run, I just had to leave everything off but the headlights. Mema jumped into the bed of the truck with one of the boys and Erica was put into the cab with you and the two other boys. They sped around me as I followed close behind.

By the time we pulled up to the hospital, you were crying. Such a sweet sound because I knew you were breathing again. Still unsure of what had caused the problem, we ran inside and made quick explanation of the occurrence. The nurses were not too concerned as you were crying now - so obviously breathing, but you were taken back immediately. After a thorough examination and no explanation, you were released.

In hindsight, if I had been home and you had been asleep in  your bed, I probably would have found my baby "gone" in the morning. Maybe the doctors would have called this a SIDS case. So little is known about SIDS. But now,

we are all thanking God everyday that you are here in our lives.

Erica felt bad for a long time after, because your voice, even for a teeny baby, had a hoarseness about it which was caused from shoving her finger/fingernail down your throat over and over. But, I feel, she probably saved your life that night - and I couldn't be more grateful. As for me, I didn't get much sleep after that. We bought a baby monitor so I could sit and listen to your breathing from anywhere in the house. Checking on you every few seconds, keeping you close so I could watch you breath, and praying silently all the time - lots and lots of praying.

Through the years, I've often wondered about those boys in that truck. Did they realize you had started crying again? That you were breathing again? I don't recall thanking them. Do they ever wonder about that little baby that they helped save? How did that experience effect their night? or their lives? Wonder if we would ever be able to find them if we tried.

Divorcing Chuck... I divorced Chuck when you were around two years old. It was the best thing. It was an abusive relationship both verbally and physically and it began within a week of our return from our "honeymoon". It's hard for me to say the word "abusive" but I think that's because of my "it'll never happen to me" attitude. Plus, it makes me feel like a weakling and victim, and I hate that. I like to at least appear on the tougher side. I remember him shoving me into the Christmas tree and then laying there between the branches as they poked painfully into my skin, and thinking, "how in the world have I ended up here?" I remember being curled in a ball on the floor as he stood over me calling me names and shoving me with his foot. He liked to call me "cunt" and it was the one word that I couldn't tolerate. I would try to slap his face for calling me "cunt" and it was as if my attempt gave him permission to attack me "in return".  

One day, I was watching a show about a woman who was abused by her husband and she too would curl up in a ball on the floor.  I was disgusted by her.  Later, I was crouched behind a chair as if to hide from Chuck, and as I sat there, before he reached for me, I thought, "Oh my gosh, I'm just like that disgusting lady on the tv show!" And I was disgusted by me.  I suppose it was about this time that I decided I was going to at least give him a challenge to deal with.  I knew I would lose every fight, but maybe I could at least tire him, maybe I could at least exhaust him somehow, and maybe he would think, "dang woman, why won't she just stay down?!?" That would be some kind of victory, wouldn't it?  And so I did.  He would shove me to the ground and I would jump back up and lunge at him. He would toss me down again, but I just kept getting up.  No matter how tired I was, no matter how breathless I became, no matter if I hurt or not, I would not stay down.

Until, finally (and far too late), divorce became the response. And it was the right response. I had always told him that once Aaron was old enough to understand what was going on, then I would leave. You were two when you walked into the living room and got upset at seeing Chuck and me rolling on the floor in the middle of a "brawl". I remember laying there, Chuck on top of me holding my arms as I tried to get away; and we just stopped when you walked it.  I looked up at your upset face - you knew (you had always known). What an idiot I was to stay so long, but that's when I told myself it was time to go. I should have left for myself long before that day. I remember Chuck and I couldn't even have a civil conversation with a serious tone to it, and you would get upset and try to make us stop talking. We had to always be laughing or speaking with an overly happy tone; otherwise, you would stand between us and fuss as if to say, "stop it, stop it". (God, that's so sad. And I'm so sorry for that Aaron - even though you don't remember it, I think it stayed with you even though you didn't realize it... that maybe it effected you in some way.)

It wasn't long after, Chuck and I were in the car and he asked, "do you want to get a divorce?" It was almost as if he was suggesting it.  I responded, "Sure." (Trying to seize the moment.)  He dismissed it saying that he couldn't afford his own place and didn't want to move back with his parents again.  My mother owned four duplexes at this time, and we were currently living in one rent free.  I suggested that we talk to her.  Mom agreed on the condition that I would pay half of the rent amount and Chuck would pay half of the rent amount.  I agreed.  We moved him to one end of the four duplexes, and I lived on the other.  It was done - and I filed for the divorce immediately.

It was a warm, sunny, beautiful day not too long after my birthday, and I walked out of the courthouse.  I stood there on the steps letting the sun warm my face.  It was such a beautiful day - and I was free.  This would be my birthday gift to me.

Sometime within the first couple of years after the divorce, Chuck and I were talking on the phone and he apologized for the abuse and added, "he wasn't raised that way." I knew he was truly sorry. I never doubted he loved me - and he loved you more than words could say. It ate at him that you were not his biological son because he wanted you to be SO badly. Never doubt his love for you is actually that strong Aaron - it's something that will stay with him forever, no matter how little he sees you - he will always love you like his flesh and blood. I have no doubt that he would do anything for you. 


Alabama... I was going to attend the Art Institute and the school would not let you live with me in the apartment provided by them. I didn't want to take you either only to leave you with a babysitter that I didn't know or trust. So, the plan was that you would stay with Mema and I would see you every weekend I could - which turned out to be most weekends.

Chuck talked me into allowing you to stay with him for a while, since I wouldn't have you with me. You would transfer to their Alabama elementary school for the time that you were with him. It was only supposed to be for a month or two. It was one of the hardest moments I'd ever experienced when I put you into that car with Chuck (whom you hadn't seen in SO long) and his wife, Machelle (another stranger to you). I tried to be strong so that you would feel secure, and then you left - and I sat in my car and cried and cried and cried.  It was horrible.

Once the visitation was to end, Chuck wanted me to allow you to stay longer; I didn't want that. I wanted you home with Mema. Simply because the longer he kept you, the easier it would be for legal battles and other troubles to come up. I also wanted to see you. I missed you. And if you were with Mema, I could see you every weekend. But Chuck became extremely upset that I would not agree to his plan and threatened to keep you. He said that I "would never be able to find you in Alabama because they lived so deep in the country." It was a strong threat, but honestly, not one I really believed he would fully carry out. (Again, he wasn't raised like that, and his parents would never allow him to live like that.) Still, I felt I had to take the threat seriously. Time had passed and people change. I didn't really know how much Chuck had changed. And then there was the "what-if" scenario: what if he really did carry it out? Then, I would notify authorities and after telling them everything, they would ask me, "so he threatened to keep your son, but you didn't believe him?!? Uhmm, whyyyy is that?" - and any response would be a lame.

So I continued to talk to Chuck as if I didn't buy into his threats. Pretending we would stick to Plan A. All the while, my mother, Erica, and I were planning our secret (early) trip to Alabama. We would wait for a school day, as it should be easier to find your school than the house. From the letters Mema and I had received, we knew the general area you were in.

It was a long trip. A quiet one. I felt terrible putting my family in this situation. Maybe I was wrong for allowing you to go for this visit after all. I felt my family must be thinking, "I told her so." I just couldn't wait to get you back again - to hold my baby.

Once we found the school, I went in with my divorce papers which showed I had possessery conservatorship (meaning I kept main possession of you).  I also knew that it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on because we were in Alabama, and the papers were filed in Texas. Custodial papers are generally not respected from state to state, at least not without a long, expensive, legal battle. I was just hoping the school wouldn't think about that and I would get possession of you fairly easily. But, the school personnel did think of that. They called Machelle to ask her what they should do - and she (unhappily) conceded. She was angry, probably because we surprised her and Chuck, but she knew it was the best option (rather than a huge legal and/or personal fight). I spoke with her to ask about taking you to say your goodbye's to Chuck. She didn't know where to find Chuck as he was working at various sites. So, we left.

I cried again for you. I knew, even at your young age of four, you knew something wasn't right. On the car ride home, you said you would miss your dad. I said, "I know" and that you would talk to him again. You slept most of the way home. Sweet baby.

Termination of Parental Rights... After Roy and his kids, you and I, had all moved in together, we began this ridiculous journey to (what I thought) put together a half-way normal lifestyle. Oh well, the intention was good anyway. You and Chuck had not seen each other for over a year. He had not paid any child support in a long time, but he still wanted to see you whenever he could (which would have probably been at most, once a year). I didn't like that idea. I really felt that with so little actual contact, it would be very confusing for you and difficult for you to deal with; but I told Chuck that if he wanted to remain in your life, then he would need to get caught-up on and stay caught-up on his child support payments. I felt that if he was going to pop in and out of your life with an occasional yearly visit, then he needed to at least help support you financially.

Of course, I would have worked with him on getting caught-up, as he was very behind on child support at this time, but before we could really discuss details, he "lost it". He was so angry and assumed I would put him in jail for non-payments. He said he would "terminate his rights before going to jail for not paying child support for a son that was not even biologically his." Yes, that's what he said, but remember he was angry, and you really weren't his biological child. It didn't make sense for him to go to jail in that kind of situation. As it was though, I realized that this was an opportunity to have his rights terminated, giving me complete sole custody. So, I didn't argue with him. I didn't explain that I had no intention of putting him in jail (I mean really, how would I get the money then). I just let him believe that I would.

I hired a very good attorney to draw-up the termination papers, sent them to Chuck which he then sat on for a long time. After a while, he said he lost them. I sent them again. I remember blasting his father, Lee, on the phone (whom I normally got along very well - he's actually a really great guy), but when Lee suggested that we draw-up papers stating Chuck would keep custody but be relieved from responsibility of paying any child support, I was completely offended! Granted, it was a nice try, but a shot in the dark. And very bad aim. I'm not so stupid I would ever agree to anything like that. If Chuck wanted rights, then he would have to accept some of the responsibilities too. Eventually, Chuck signed the termination papers and sent them back, and they were filed, making it official.

He could have continued to contact you, I would have let ya'll keep communication, just on MY terms (you know how I am), but I guess he assumed I wouldn't allow ya'll to talk. Maybe he figured it was all for the best for you, less confusing this way. Maybe he sunk deeper into a depression, started taking drugs, and ended up in prison for a while. Whatever the case Aaron, know that he loved you more than anything. And he regretted signing those papers the minute he signed them. He wanted you, and he wanted to be in your life. His whole family feels this way (that's why they reached out to you again.) And in actuality, Donna (Chuck's mom), did keep in touch some. She would contact me on several occasions to ask about you and request pictures (which I sent to her). They all love you so much.

Everyone loves you Aaron. There is just something about you that draws people in; that makes people embrace you. I love that. People look up to you. Respect you. You are an example to the younger children, and parents appreciate your example. I am so proud of you.

Most of the drama, I know, was a result of the decisions I made. Please know, I had your best interest in mind. I don't believe that walking around feeling guilty or regretting decisions is healthy or right. I believe I based my decisions, then and now, on legitimate concerns (of which many of the other people in my life either didn't understand, didn't consider nor realize). And today, looking back, there are only a handful of my actions/decisions that I believe I would do differently if I could. But I can't. So we live, we learn, and we love.

I love you my precious Aaron, since before you were born. And all our experiences (and drama), I think, contributed to a growing love and attachment I feel for you.

RIP Dad

(12/31/1937 - 7/20/2002)
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
(Robert Frost)

So yesterday was the anniversary of my dad's death and I wanted to write a little about him and this will hardly sum him up but, it's a start.

He loved country music and his Marlboro's (he started smoking before he was a teenager). He was always ready to help out his friends. He worked hard his entire life (and his hands reflected same), but always laboring for himself as a small business owner. He loved art and poetry. He loved spending time with friends, whether drinking coffee in the morning, playing in his band, or lifting weights in the garage at night with his daughters' suitors. He had a ridiculous sense of humor, and enjoyed sharing a good story.

His death was as memorable as his life, although his death was unexpected, tragic, and surreal for his family (his heart attacked him and he slid off the tractor he was riding and under a tractor mulcher).

Dad's funeral was standing room only. I heard later that the funeral home didn't hold everyone that showed, so people stood around outside and then followed the procession to the cemetery.

♥

for Aaron

My firstborn, Aaron, was one of the most defining moments in my life, and he is one of the most influential people in my life.  I write here to simply to document information pertaining to him - for him. This post likely isn't going to cover everything about him, and my relationship with him, but it's a start.


My Dearest Aaron,

You came into my life at a sort of complicated time, and so I spent much of my pregnancy very stressed. Stressed because of how my parents and siblings received and dealt with the news of my pregnancy. Stressed because of who your biological father was (a Hispanic man making minimum wage, who spent much of his time high on weed rather than high on his dreams and expectations for his future). Stressed because my marriage (to Chuck) was headed for divorce. Stressed about whether or not I would find a man who would make the perfect father for you. Stressed about being a single mom and never making enough money to get off of welfare and to provide for you, and be able to give you everything you needed and deserved.  And I never once thought about abortion or adoption. I could never live without the love of my life (my baby).

As you know, I was married but we weren't doing so good (another story for another time). It was while I was trying to transition my husband (Chuck) out of the house (which was not going well at all) that I began an affair with a guy I worked with (Mark). He was a shoulder to cry on more than anything else. He did love me, and he was such a cutie, but I knew right off it really wasn't going to be a long term relationship simply because our goals and life expectations were so different.

Once I suspected I may be pregnant, I went to the Crisis Pregnancy Center for a free test. The test results were negative for pregnancy, but the lady suggested it could be a false negative because it could be too early in the pregnancy and suggested I return in a few weeks for a second test. Instead, I took comfort in that I was likely not pregnant and did not think about it again.

I was probably 3-4 months into the pregnancy when I started experiencing morning sickness. I was living back at home with my family and my mom asked about the possibility that I might be pregnant. I scoffed at her suggestion but only to put her mind at ease; however, her suggestion had reminded me of the possible "false negative" result - and not one for tracking my 'cycles', I couldn't remember my last menstruation (sorry, TMI - I know). I purchased a home pregnancy test and the results showed positive (of course).

Now, my mind raced with thoughts, concerns, and worries. I thought about my family, about Chuck, about Chuck's family, about Mark, and Mark's family. I knew their reactions already - and upset would be an understatement.  At this time, I was already separated from Chuck and he had filed for divorce, though it wasn't finalized yet. Maybe, if I remained married to him, then people would simply assume the baby was his. But there was more to it, it wasn’t “just” an unplanned pregnancy - I was pregnant with a baby that would be half Mexican. Multi-racial families were not so accepted then as they are now, and even now there are a lot of obstacles to contend with.  My own family would come across as racist at times; though if you had asked any of them, they would have told you different.

After telling my family about the pregnancy, and all the yelling had quieted down, my intention was to continue with the divorce and be a single parent.  I tried to wrap my head around my new future...

It was not long after that I was sitting in my parents living room with mom watching television. I remember laughing at something on tv and glancing over at mom as if to share the laugh - but she wasn't laughing. She wasn’t watching the show. She just sat there, staring at me, her eyes filled with disappointment, and shaking her head back and forth. She didn't say a word, she didn’t have to. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed in disappointment. Maybe she deserved that.  Still, I was frustrated with what I felt was a lack of support and I left for a walk.  This event was to mark another defining moment in my life...

I had to deal with this – me. And it was clear that I was not going to get the support I needed from my family. I understood her disappointment, but I could not handle living in the same household under these circumstances. At this time, Chuck was now staying with his family who lived around the corner from my parents' home. I could see if he would take me back, maybe try to make another go of things. Maybe if we raised the baby together; maybe if we could see eye to eye; maybe we would mature together, grow to love each other; maybe we could become a healthy, happy family. He and I walked the neighborhood and talked as I tried to find the words to break the news of my pregnancy as easily as possible, and then ask him if we could make things work. Initially, he didn't say a word; he just started running ahead of me and on down the road. I knew he needed time to think, so I let him go. I couldn’t blame him - I was asking a lot. By the time I got home, he was there, waiting for me. He agreed to give our marriage another try, but he made his terms clear - you were never to know the truth about your biological father... and I didn't like that idea, but I agreed.

Still unsure about this new direction, I convinced Chuck to take me to Mark’s to say a final goodbye; but it wasn’t really my plan. I had intended to tell Mark about my pregnancy, and to see what he had to offer. Instead, his sister, Sylvia, and mother met me in the front yard. Before I could say anything at all, Sylvia began yelling at me, she was irate because I had not seen Mark in a while and now, here I am popping up at there home with Chuck in tow.  Her mother calmed her and told me where to find Mark, but I was never able to locate him that day and I sat in the car with Chuck thinking maybe it was a "sign"... ?  Maybe, I wasn’t supposed to be with Mark... ?

Labor began as an annoying back ache and very, very early in the morning. I'm guessing it was probably 3 or 4 a.m. and I was too tired to wake.  The pains were far enough apart that I would sleep between contractions, and honestly, I didn’t realize at the time that I was in labor. By 8-ish, the pains were stronger and more frequent and I wasn't getting any sleep. I realized then that I was having contractions and woke Chuck to head over to the hospital. Mom had gone out of town but raced back after getting the call. She made it to the hospital as I was being wheeled into delivery.

I had received an epidural for pain and it worked perfectly, even got a little more sleep. Delivery was normal with no surprises really, everything was very "textbook".

And you were born.

It was the single most life changing moment in my entire life – and it was beautiful. You were absolutely the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on. Perfection!

And to be honest, your birth changed a lot of lives in wonderful ways - ways no one could have ever expected. Mema, who had been so disappointed over the pregnancy initially, wrapped her heart around you and never let go. You are likely the most important person in her life. And your Aunt Erica, she had been so angry with me and all the drama I had brought on by this, and now you will always have a very special piece of her heart. And Chuck loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you just as if you truly shared his blood. To be a father to a babe who holds your heart but not your blood can be stressful, as much as he loved you he was also very jealous that he was not your biological father as well - but always know, his love for you was as good as it gets – don’t ever doubt that Aaron. You can always know in your heart, that no matter how much distance is between you and Chuck and no matter how much time goes by without seeing each other, he still loves you and misses you. Oh to be loved like you Aaron…

...and that’s what babies do to hearts. They can turn what seems to be the most tragic of circumstances into the most perfect experience of Light, Love and joy. It’s magical. You are magic.

Eventually, my marriage to Chuck ended - and that was best (the physical and emotional abuse simply was not going to end).

I introduced you to your biological father, Mark, who was married to Laura now and had another son, Matthew. But things became complicated with him as well (I suppose I 'll elaborate on this later) and I backed off from them to an extent. It was my thought that since he knew where we lived, if he wanted, then he could call us rather than me always contacting him first. He didn't.  But, I think he just felt maybe that's the way I wanted it, or maybe it was low self-esteem, or maybe he was more comfortable letting me pursue him rather than him pursuing me... I don't know. 

I began dating and ended up meeting Roy. You were only about 6 years old. We moved in together along with Roy’s two boys, Roy Jr (then 8) and Corey (then 4). It was about this time that you became sort of physically aggressive. The tension would mount for days at a time, and then you would "blow-up" or we sometimes referred to them as "episodes", but they only occurred maybe once every 6 months.  It really wasn't all that often, it was just traumatizing - for you, for me, for everyone in the family.

What was the cause of the episodes? Maybe it was the termination of parental rights from the only father you had known (Chuck). Maybe it was meeting your "real" dad (Mark) and then not having any contact with him (losing yet another father). Maybe it was my marriage to Roy, and you suddenly having to share me and my attention with three other people that stressed you. Maybe it was the lack of control over what was happening to you and all the life changes (this would make sense, your mother loves being in control too, and I never took to change to easily either). But likely, it was all of this and maybe more.

I tried rationalizing, and talking things out, but you couldn't explain your frustration and never felt like talking. You didn’t know what was angering you specifically; you just knew you were angry. Frustrating then, but in hindsight, it makes sense; it’s hard for young children to talk about stresses when they are still trying to learn to express themselves. Poor sweet baby.

I read everything; searching for answers, and tried so many different methods in an effort to help resolve your frustrations and eliminate the “fits”, to no obvious avail. And everyone had a suggestion or "better idea" - as if I hadn’t already tried that. They had no idea! When you live with this, and it involves your baby (your heart), it kinda consumes you.

Punishment phases began with a “reminder” of probable punishment (like, "if you don't straighten up then you're going to go to your room!"), which graduated into secluding you in your room (or time-out), and then the dreaded spanking (when you continued kicking the walls, slamming doors, and throwing things). The spankings sometimes turned into something of a scuffle. No, I don’t feel you were abused, but the spanking, scuffle, and yelling was too dramatic for either of us, and the drama likely traumatized us both. Still, I wish I could go back and figure out what the miracle solution should have been then. If it was to divorce Roy so that it would be just the two of us again - I would have done it – in a heartbeat! Lord knows I thought about it (and the only reason I didn’t was because I had to know it would be a certain fix, guaranteed ...but there were no guarantees).  Maybe the solution was what it is - time and maturing, and so things worked out just as they were intended... ? 

The "episodes" continued through about grade 8, and they affected everyone. Me, Mema, Roy, Jr. and Corey, Aunt Erica – everyone was so concerned for your well being, so worried about your future. By high school, they seemed to be much, much fewer and not quite so dramatic (maybe once or twice a year - whew!). And by 11-12th grade, there was a complete "about-face" - a 180. I remember we were discussing colleges and you became so frustrated with me. I wasn't saying what you wanted to hear. It was obvious that you wanted to lash out but instead you just began to cry and told me you had to take a walk to chill out. It seemed to me your tears came from that huge effort you were making inside yourself to control yourself. Or maybe, you just wanted us to be on the same page so badly and when we weren’t, that frustration broke you down? (I could understand that. I’ve been there myself too.) You left and I didn't try to stop you, it was a healthy move on your part and I was so proud of you. You recognized and acknowledged your frustration - but then you controlled it too! I feel that you became a man that day - a mature, honest, and humble man worthy of all the respect in the world!

Today, I don't know what your perception is of the "episodes", but you have grown into a mature, intelligent, self-sufficient, independent, humorous, and respectful man – and you amaze me!

Not a day has ever gone by that I don’t thank God for blessing me with you. Through all the ups and downs, I have never, ever once regretted you. You are my breath and my heart, and I love you with all of my being.

Ink

My latest tattoo, art by Michelle at In The Skin

I haven't written in a while, and as it is 12:45 in the morning now. This won't be a long post. 

I got the tattoo above on Father's Day weekend. Not my day, but still okay, because my husband got a tattoo (his first) on my birthday weekend. 

Speaking of weekends, this weekend is my youngest son's birthday. He'll be twelve and he's already bouncing off the walls. We'll be spending it at our favorite waterpark and while I'm pretty exhausted because we've been so busy lately, I'm expect this trip to help me decompress.

Last weekend my husband and I ditched the kids and had our own get-a-way. We went to the Republic of Texas (ROT) biker rally in Austin. It was too much fun really! The later it got, the crazier people got.

Well, I really have so much more to write about, but it is late, so I'm going to try to get back to this tomorrow. G'night

42

This year, for my birthday, my familia and I spent the day in San Antonio at the market.  I loved it!  The color! The sights! The sounds! The smells!  I couldn't get enough of it.

My sweetie pie bought me a fabulous dia de los muertos tiled mirror! It's awesome!

TATTED!

Roy got his first tattoo today and I must say - he did it RIGHT!! 

Personally, I did not thoroughly think out my first tatt (which I got at about age 21).  

But Roy's is definitely a keeper - and he said it didn't even hurt. Not fair! Mine always hurt!

Breathing again

I started a new job last week. Same field (legal secretary), different firm. I've worked in this field for about 14 years now, and I had been employed at the last firm (ASNS) for 7 1/2 years. It wasn't easy to leave ASNS because although I had been very unhappy since I started working there, I had a strong sense of security. I'd been offered positions with other firms through the years and turned them down, sometimes turning down a lot more money because I had felt my sense of security ASNS, as well as knowing what I could expect at the firm, outweighed the money (madness, I know). Until I was approached and offered a position H&L and everything just seemed to feel right (the timing, the security, the people). Still, it wasn't easy to leave ASNS, but it was easier to make the decision to accept this position, than it had been in the past to turn down the others. And I love H&L. The people are great, the job requirements are demanding but in a good way. I feel rejuvenated.

So, I went for a run tonite (it's easy to get back to my running when I just feel good).

baby girl turns EIGHT!

Happy birthday to my beautiful daughter,

the sweetest person I have ever known.  

To know you is to KNOW true love.  

Everyday you amaze me with your compassion and generosity.

I can only aspire to be deserving of you.

xoxo

Cake fit for a princess

First time dad has been on skates in yearrrrrrs!! 

Holding on for dear life, haha

Cousin Collin 

BFF and cousin, Rachael 

Cousin Cameron gets his skates on 

Clothes and bling! 

my Aunt Jamie knows what I like! =) 

Friends Forever! 

She loves all of her "PETS"! 

Shopping $$