Demons of Stupidity

My mom has a saying, “God takes care of fools and children.”


Today, I fell in the fool category. I was in the car, driving my usual path to and from the house, when this disheveled woman, waved me down. She was dressed decently enough in a long, flowing gold and black dress with an oversized purse hanging on one shoulder. Her face carried a look of panic and desperation.

It was that expression that made me stop.

“I have been robbed,” she cried. “I have no money on me. My car is just down the road. Please can you help me?”

“Did you call the cops,” I asked. It's a perfectly reasonable question.

She nodded, “Yes, and they took a report, but they couldn't give me gas money or a ride.”

Ok, my first warning bell went off. I found it hard to believe that a police officer would just abandon a woman that had just been robbed.

However, I ignored it and let her get into the car. We begun the drive to where her car was parked, which was supposed to be just down the road. Turns out it was more than “just down the road.”

On the drive, I asked her, “So what happened? How did you get robbed? I can't believe the cops didn't help you.”

She looked away, “It happened last night and the cops didn't care. I just can't wait to get into my car and get out of this town.”

Another warning bell went off - Didn't she say she just got robbed?

She goes on to tell me how she was in town to visit her daughter.

“Would you like to call her,” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, she isn't here. She is out of town with her boyfriend. She didn't know I was coming.”

Ok, by now, I am thinking just too many “incidents” here. Then she goes back to rambling about how she just want to take a shower, and get in her car and drive back home. She just needed gas. As we passed a gas station, I ask her if she wanted me to stop.

She goes no. She has enough gas to get to the gas station. She is just asking for $20, and hands me some gold necklace, saying it's worth $200. “Here that's to compensate you. I am not a bum. This dress alone is worth like $150. I just need to get to my car, get a quick shower and then head home.”

While rummaging through her purse to take out the necklace, I notice she has about $10 sticking out the side of her bag.

Yes, at that moment, I was ready to run and get rid of this woman. She was lying. I didn't know why, but my sixth sense told me she had less than honest reasons.

We pull up outside some rundown apartment. “These people have agreed to let me take a shower at their house,” she said.

Then she proceeded to tell me that I can come in or wait until she is done. I took stock of where I was. Three men sat outside. She seemed to know them because they waved to her, and she waved back. The road, while not deserted, was still empty enough to be of concern, and yes, we are in the ghetto - a high crime area.

My heart started to pound double time. Is she for real? “I am not going into some apartment I don't know, and I am not going to sit out here waiting.”

“But..but..I need help. I need gas money, and if you could spare a $20.”

I shook my head. “Tell you what, you take a shower and I will meet you at the gas station and put gas in your car.” Yes, I know…idiot. I have done more than enough to help this woman.

Again the woman shook her head. “No, I don't need that. I have gas. I just need - “

“No,” I replied in a surprisingly steady voice. Even though inside, I was asking myself what the hell did I get myself into. This woman was talking crap, lots of it, and she was doing a lousy job of keeping track of her lies.

She hesitated for a moment, as if thinking it over, and honestly, I don't know where the courage came from, but I held her gaze and repeated, “No, this is all I can do.”

She then got out and walked over to the three men sitting in front. I raced out of there. Yes, I know stupid, stupid, stupid.

Perfectly Imperfect Day

In other words it was a perfect day. It wasn't supposed to be. I had a list of chores to complete, phone calls to make and jobs to apply for. However, when I walked into her room to pick her up, my little one was burning up. I took her temperature, and it came back 102.


I immediately called her doctor. I love her doctor's office. They have always been responsive.

“Can you be here in 30 minutes,” the nurse asked.

“I will make it,” I replied.

We walked into the office, and the first thing every one said is, “ooh…she looks so ill.”

My little one just clung to me. These are people she has known since she was two days old, and not once did she smile at any of them. Usually, I have a hard time getting her to keep still. She is running up to the nurses, chatting and playing peek-a-boo, but today, she just hugged me and buried her head in my shoulder.

After a couple of tests, we discovered it was strep. Her doctor order antibiotic, and after a quick stop to the pharmacy, we head home.

She was still hot, so I pulled out the Motrin and antibiotics and gave them to her. I also washed her down with a cool rag. For an hour, she just laid there curled up in my arms not wanting to eat, play or drink. I just held her, my heart sinking because I couldn't make it right.

Then suddenly, she sprang up, gave me a smile and insisted on being put down on the floor. I let her loose, and my little bundle of energy - a destructive force onto herself - was off. We played for five hours, only taking breaks to eat or drink. She roared like a lion. I roared and chased her. She danced, and I danced along beside her. She played peek-a-boo, I played it too.

Nothing on my chore list got done. No phone calls were made, and I didn't apply for a single job. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. We ended it with chocolate ice cream on a cone. She licked the ice cream and spit out the cone, and I laughed.

She is now in bed. She passed out the moment her head hit the mattress. Yes, she was exhausted, and I am too. However, tonight I know I will be going to bed smiling. It was perfect day.

I Love This Kid

Tonight, she insisted on taking teddy to bed, so I let her. This is how she fell asleep. I couldn't resist a picture.

One Day at a Time

I took some positive steps today. I hope that means the “happy pills” are kicking in. I actually got off the sofa and cleaned the house. Tonight for the first time in almost three weeks, I will be sleeping in my bed.

Tomorrow, I will talk to a professor about whether the program his school offers would be a good match for me. I am contemplating taking my writing and journalist skills into the digital world with a Masters in Digital Media. I actually get excited when I contemplate this prospect. I see possibilities with it.

Not so much with the job hunt. I came across two horror stories today that just fill me with dread.

One is a coworker who was laid off in June 2008, and she still hasn’t found a job. She is ready to give up. The other was a comment a perfect strange made in the supermarket.

I was there with the woman I consider the baby’s second mother, when she bumped into an old friend.

It was a casual question: “Are you still doing the medical thing?”

The stranger shook her head: “Nope, there were just no jobs. I took what I could. There were just no jobs anywhere.”

That is when everything inside me turns cold with fear. It’s the same thing I hear over and over again – no jobs.

But then there are stories like the one of another coworker who was laid off the same time as me. Within a week she had a new job.

Couldn’t I be one those lucky ones? Just this one time couldn’t I be? I am seriously trying not to stress it as I continue to send out resumes and look over job boards.

Right now I am looking at things like this. I made it through today. Tomorrow is yet to come, so just take it one day at time.

Duice

My little one and I battle over her drinking water. She has become a juice addict and would rather that over water any day. I, on the other hand, plan to break that habit. Right now she gets juice once a day, and water throughout the day.

This morning, after breakfast and drinking a cup and half of soy milk, she looks at me and goes “duice”

I walk over to the fridge, pour out water and give her the cup. The little bugger wouldn’t take it. “duice,” she insisted.

So a little part of me decided to experiment, I picked up the bottle of grape juice and pretended to pour it into the cup.

I handed it to her and this time -- she took it. I couldn't believe it. My little one knows the difference between the water bottle and the juice bottle.

Of course the game was up when, she tasted it and discovered it was still water. Can you say temper tantrum?

Me vs. Normal

Here is the thing about me; I am just a little bit touched. That’s how I like to describe it – just a little bit touched. Isn’t that better than saying I am slightly insane or that I suffer from chronic depression. Over the years I have develop ways to cope, to appear like one of the normals.

However, when shit happens I can’t keep up that façade. I need to withdraw from public light. I basically go into isolation. I don’t answer phone calls. I talk to no one. I see no one. It’s just me and all my crazy thoughts, going around and around in my head until finally they make sense. Only then do I emerge and let friends in.

I understand that other people do it differently. Normal people function differently. They let their friends in. They talk it out with friends. I can’t, not until I have some basic foundation to stand on.

I did that last week when I lost the job. I withdrew, turned off the phone, didn’t return phone calls. It was just me and the baby. I took pleasure in just watching her, while my thoughts tried to center themselves, to find some hope for the future.
Now according to one of my normal friends, I am rude hypocrite for doing that.

I know where she is coming from. She copes the normal way. For her that means talking to friend or at least a text that says, “I’m ok.” For that reason, I apologize to her. It seems that isn’t enough, and it’s precisely the reason I avoid friendships with people I consider normal.

If you aren’t a little bit touch in some way, then you aren’t going to understand how I cope. You are going to get upset, get offended and take it personally. You are going to tell me I am wrong that I need a better way to cope.

Then, I am just going to quietly back away from you because I have tried it the normal way and the pressure of trying to keep up the façade inevitable leads to me cracking, and I literally end up in the nuthouse. I have learnt that before I can deal with anyone, I have to deal with me, and unfortunately that means a withdrawal from the world.

My friends that are a bit touch get this. When I am in isolation, they will text, send me little words of hope, but don’t take offense that I don’t answer them. They wait for me to come to them, and welcome me with open arms when I do. The flipside is I have to deal with them when they get their little touch epos ides. However, like them, it’s always an open harm welcome when we emerge.

The point of this whole ramble is that I have lost a friend, in addition to a job – sigh. I need to stick to my own rules. Don’t ever become friend with a normal, no matter how nice they are. Why because it’s inevitable that when I sink into isolation they will get piss, and I will lose a friend when I am at my vulnerable point.

Dear God

Every night I go to bed, I utter the same pray to you: “Help me provide for her.”
When I was pregnant it was: “Help me provide for this new life.”

Instead, the pregnancy became complicated and I was put on three months of bed rest. Suddenly, my paycheck was cut in half. The mortgage grew and the bills piled up. In the end, I fell behind on the mortgage and now the house is in foreclosure.
She came and I got back to work. Income was coming in, but it wasn’t enough – not with daycare payments. That was a second mortgage. Then her father started the custody to avoid paying child support.

I wipe out my 401k. Half goes toward a lawyer for the baby and the other for a lawyer for the house. Now it looks like the house will be saved, but today, I lost my job. I can’t pay a mortgage now, even a reduced one. I was one of 50 laid off in what was the third round of cuts in a year and half. Hey, I was lucky to survive a year.

So tonight as I do every night, I will pray from the very depth of my soul. “Dear God, please help me provide for her.”

But looking at how the last year and half as gone, I don’t think he is listening.

Faith where are you?

I wake up exhausted and getting through the day wears me out. It‘s like I took a wrong turn somewhere and can’t seem to get back on the right path.

If I am honest with myself it is about money. I have some major financial issue coming up – decision about the mortgage and whether or not the state will continue to assist me with child care. I have been living with the uncertainty for so long; you think I would be use to it by now. But no -- it’s eating away at me. I want answers now so I can start planning. I also think part of the frustration is that now instead of waiting 6 to 9 months for answers – that was far away -- off in the distance. I now only have a month and a half. It’s so close. It’s like the closer it gets the more anxious I get.

The last six months have been good – financial. Despite the challenges we somehow survived, and I want to believe that whatever the decisions we will survive still, but it is so hard. I am overcome with the what ifs. What if the state says I make too much and I have to pay full price for daycare? That is $500 a month – where do I find that. What if…?

Faith – I need to have faith

The Fish War

I am trying to introduce her to fish, but it's not going so well.

First I decided to steam it. I wrapped a tilapia fillet in foil with green peppers, red peppers, onion, garlic, tomato and let it cook in its own juice. The end result was total and utter rejection of my efforts. She picked it up, put it in her mouth and spit it out.

She ate the tomatoes and the green and red peppers, but the fish, she wouldn’t even touch it, and any foods near it, she pushed away.

Today, I made a second attempt. Last night, I did another tilapia fillet. This time, I coated it in bread crumbs seasoned with lemon grinds, basil, garlic and parmesan cheese and baked it. The cookbook for toddlers swears babies would love it. It’s basically a fancy form of fish sticks, which she hates also.

Anyways for dinner, I paired it with peas. Well guess what she is eating now. I will tell you it’s not the fish. Again, took a bite and spit it out.

Battle two has been lost, but I swear I will not lose the war. Next week, I will have to rethink another way to make fish appealing to her. I am open to suggestions. Anyone have a good recipe or type of fish that just may be appealing to a toddler?

Woohoo it's over.

Today, I will leave work, head over to my lawyer’s office and sign on the dotted line. Her father and I came to an agreement – no more custody battle, at least for now. Right before the schedule hearing, he said he would sign the proposed paternity settlement agreement. I have his stinginess to thank there. He, honestly, didn’t want to pay his lawyer more money for a court hearing, so he decided to settle instead.

Granted, I took a big financial bite because my compromise is to give him until January to pay child support, and he doesn’t get to pay $500 in left over medical bills. Somehow, I am going to have to survive. Pray for me.

As for the medical bills, I didn’t think it would be a big deal because well I figured with the money I saved from the attorney, I could put toward the bills. I had owed the attorney at $1250 refresher fee for upcoming work involving the hearing and any other upcoming issues.

I thought with no hearing, there would be reduction in the law fees. It’s an easy assumption right? Well today got a letter from them. My new fee – with no hearing – is a lovely $1000. In their words: “This payment will cover your balance due as well as fees and costs for upcoming work.”

However, “ In the event of a credit balance remaining after all work is complete, we will issue a refund to you for such amount.” I will not hold my breath.

But hey it’s over – at least for now – woohoo. Hopefully, the next time he decides to sue for custody I will be richer. I also had a clause put in that said should there be another lawsuit, the loser will be responsible for the other person's attorney fees. Trust me when I say I will not lose.

But for now join me in saying, "Woohoo it's over."

Ready to Snap

Maybe it has something to do with half the electricity in my house dying at 2 a.m. this morning. One minute I was fast asleep listening to her on the baby monitor, the next it was dead silence. I jumped out of bed and looked on the monitor. It was working, but I couldn’t hear her. I rushed into her room and flip the switch to turn on the light – nothing.

At that time, I also noticed the AC was dead; everything on that side of the house was dead. I got a flashlight. First, I checked her, still breathing and still sleeping – good. I flip the circuit breaker, nothing. The lights, the AC, nothing – at last on that side of the house.

“There is nothing you can do,” I told myself. “Go back to bed, deal with it tomorrow.”

The problem was I laid there and couldn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t get my mind to stop racing through the possibility – electrical rewiring, the AC blew, or maybe both – with each thought I saw money on wings flying out the window.

I called my sister, and her husband. He rambled on about how it could be up to $4,000to rewire a house. That didn’t help. I went on the web to do some research. It didn’t help.

By 7 a.m. I am in tears and on the phone with my mom. “I can’t take anymore. It’s the money. I have no money left. More is going out than coming in. No more, no more,” I cried.

She calm me down and reminded me of what is important – the beautiful little one who by now was wake and making her demands. She suggested we make it McDonald’s morning, but first call the power company maybe it was something on their end.

I took her advice halfheartedly. After all giving my luck lately it couldn’t be the power company. It had to be something bigger, something more dramatic. My frantic mind demanded that. Thank the Lord, my frantic mind didn’t rule today. It was the power company issue – a fault neutral in the meter.

By the end of the day, the issue was fixed, but I haven’t been fixed. I am cranky, unhappy, worried and stressed out. It could be court date coming up. It could be the lack of sleep. It could just be life.

Blah

That is me these days…weeks. Next week, we have a court hearing coming up. It’s to address the issue of a paternity test, temporary visitation, custody and child support, and “MrNiceGuy” is making my life hell with lots of phone calls, instant messages and texts.

Basically, he doesn’t want the hearing. He wants us to go back to the proposed paternity settlement agreement , where he gets a $200 cut in child support, gets 6-12 months before he has to pay and can stop paying should he lose his job, yet again.

Needless to say, I have my issues with that proposal, and my attorney is pushing for the hearing. So “MrNiceGuy” is nowthreatening that if we have to go to a hearing, it’s going to get nasty. He will also try to get rotating custody where she spends one week with me another week with him. He is unemployed, but still can’t make time to spend one day in the week with her, but he wants a whole week. As a part of his threat he says, “I don’t want that, but if you push this I will have no choice.”

So yeah I am blah.

The Rash

It started with what looked like a rug burn, Wednesday. I didn't worry so much about it because it was dry and looked like it was healing. \

By Thursday the skin around it was peeling and thoughts of ringworm came to mind, but no it wasn't that.

Friday, little pimples developed under her neck. Heat rash? Maybe? Who knew? Then the pimples, looking more like scars, spread to her mouth. I thought, “No big deal. It's from the teething.” Ooh, did I forget to mention she is teething. She already has six teeth, and now three more are coming in. Between the rash and the teething, I need to be medicated, seriously heavy duty, happy pills medicated.

Saturday, nothing new popped up, so we went to the beach. She loved it. I loved. It was great day.

Sunday woke up and she is covered in pimples from head to toe. Rashes of various sizes and shapes covered her fingers, her arms, her legs, her trunk, even her butt. I took her to the Urgent Care Center. The first doctor looked. “Chicken pox,” she suggested, then shook her head.

She called in another doctor. He goes through a list of questions. “Has she been throwing up? A fever? Has she been scratching it?”

“No, no, no,” I answered.

In the end he advised. “As soon as possible take her to her pediatrician Monday. I hate to tell you, but I have no idea what this is.”

Monday, we go see her pediatrician.

“Has she been throwing up?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Has she been scratching?”

Again I shook my head. This was becoming fairly familiar.

She studied my squirming daughter again. “Well, the rash around her mouth and the one on her body are two different things. The one on her mouth is impetigo Antibiotics will take care of that.”

At this point she sighed and got that look doctors get when they are about to admit something they don't want to admit. “The rash on her arms and legs,” another sigh, “I don't know what it is. It could be strep, but since she will already be on antibiotics that will take care of that.”

So basically nearly $40 later and the rash is still there and still unknown. At least half the mystery is solved.

One year

June 13th was her birthday. I can't believe she is one. My perfect angel is one..wow. I keep remembering coming home with this tiny baby and thinking 'what do I do now."

Now, I am asking myself where did the year go. I no longer have a baby. I have a toddler. Wow.

Smile

I decided I don't want to whine or complain today. Instead I will share a series of photos of the little one as I gave her spaghetti to eat for the first time. Let's just say she won, the spaghetti, her walker, my sofa, my clothes and everything else lost.

Justice Where is it?

I hate him. I really do. I never knew and never really felt what hate was until him. I HATE him. It’s a blinding I want to hurt, destroy him kind of hate, and it’s bad because its destroying me too. Every weekend it comes time to hand her over to him, it kills me. How can he in one breath deny her, but in the next make demands to see her and the courts insist he has a right.

He helps in no way with child support hasn’t since she was born, and yet I have to let him see her, play the great big daddy and take her to all sorts of places, yet next week I have a hearing to hand over my house to the bank. I am losing everything around me, and he still has it all. How the fuck can this be fair.

I was taught that in life if you were good and fair life would treat you that way too. Then where is the fairness, where is the justice. I want justice damit.

Today

...is one of those days, I would like to let the blood flow, just to stop this ache. Abandoned and alone just when I need them the most. Fuck family.

mrNiceGuy/Mother's Day

...that is his new id on popular site. I about cracked up when I saw that. Look out girls, MrNiceGuy is single and looking, and I think that is how I will refer to him from now on.

So I am lying here, while she sleeps enjoying a quiet mother's day. It's not the one we had planned. I am suppose to be in Miami, getting spoiled for my first ever mother's day, but a little something called an upper respiartory infection side tracked me.

Overall, I am grateful. My little one is healthy, happy and doing well, and for the first time in days, I can breath and don't have a 101 tempature. It's all about the little things.

Hired an attorney

When I say, I wiped out my account, I wiped it out -- $3,500 as a retainer, and I pray he is worth. It was money from income tax refunded but I just too fearful to go on without an attorney. Now, I am somewhat hopeful. He sat and just let me talk and ask questions for more than hour, almost two.



Unfortunately, I can’t get the case moved to my county. It seem her father did file within the 20 day guidelines and DOR gives them an option to respond in any court of their choosing and of course he chose his county. The lawyer said if I wanted him to argue to move it to my county, I could but it could end being throw out. I would have love to gotten it to my county because I suspect he is hiding stuff here, but hey.

However, we are going file our own counterclaim. The attorney said based on the affdative there is already a presumption of paternity. He plans to filed a motion saying so, and that this is way to avoid the DOR child support case. Ooh he will also be talking with the DOR attorney. And he said if they want to question paternity and insist on a DNA test, then the father will have to pay for it. Ohh, they will be filing for a full disclosure of all his finances from income taxes, pay checks bank statements, you name it. He will also be demanding retroactive child support from the day the baby was born, as well as for him to pay half my medical expenses, and up to 75 percent of the baby’s daycare bills.



As for the 50/50 split, which is how courts seem to like to do, he thinks that is highly unlikely. He said while it’s possible, he doubts a judge wouldn’t do that, and we will be building a case against doing that



Now, let’s see what he comes back with. I know he—her father—will be livid. I am not suppose to have an attorney to defend myself. He did the exact same thing to the mother of his 7 year old son. She filed a domestic violence case agaisnt him in her county. Somehow with all that he was granted temp custody of the baby who was two at the time. He filed for paternity and custody in his county, and she showed up without lawyer and got screwed. The he turned around and filed for child support from her. I refuse to be her, and will fight him battle for battle. Right now, the baby will be past one by the time this goes through the courts.

The attorney says six to nine months...pray for me.

The question

About six months ago, a friend asked if I could look ahead would I have still chosen to have a baby with this man.

My answer was resounding yes. "How could I ever regret her?"

Now, after the last couple of days. I find myself asking the exact same question and it's not a resounding yes anymore. It is: "I don't know."

Isn't that sad. I have the most amazing child in the world and the answer is "I don't know."

Life Suck

That is all I can and will say. It sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks. Going to go get drunk now.

On Friday, I became a slut…

…that is claim. On Friday, I got served papers. He wants to establish paternity of the baby because “the respondent was also engaged in sexual intercourse with other men during the period of conception of the child.”

I filed for child support, and CPS comes a knocking, and now he doesn’t think the baby is his. It seems I sleep around.

But that isn’t the worse part of this: “Petitioner(him) is financially unable to paid (his attorney) or cost of this action, but Mother is well able to do so.”

WHAT THE FUCK. I am $10,000 behind on the mortgage payments. He doesn’t pay child support. In 10 months, he bought 1 box of diapers, two containers of soild and paid 6-7 daycare payments, but I must pay his attorney fees.

I earn $2000 monthly. My expenses are broken down like this.

1. HOA fee -- $108
2. Baby medications -- $160
3. Daycare -- $660
4. Doctor visits -- $30
5. Car -- $336
6. babysitter - $240
7. Light -- $120
8. Phone - $150
9. Food, formula, diapers, - $300
10. Gas -- $150
11. insurance - $180


I am at negative 434, and remember the mortgage of $1,2000 hasn’t been paid since November. But I am financially able to pay his attorney fees. How cruel can one person get?

Then he turns around and send me text messages like this. Sent Saturday at 1:23 p.m.

It is funny how quickly you cut me and aj from being a family.

It’s my fault. Always my fault.

Round and Round

She is teaching me a lot of things. Lately it about doing videos and learning to share them with other people, so here is a video of her doing this strange thing.

The instant she did it I knew I had to record it, and replay to laugh at again and again.


Round and Round from MeMandB on Vimeo.

"Uh Oh"

"Uh oh" who would have thought that would be Angel's first word.

I am driving to work, and I can't even remember what I was doing, but I uttered, "uh oh."

Suddenly there is an echo from the backseat. "uh oh."

I quickly glance around and go, "uh oh."

She grinned back and repeated, "uh oh."

And yes she knows what it means too. At the daycare, they chuckled that whenever she dropped a bottle or toy, she would look at them and utter, "uh oh."

Even when I drop something she utters, "uh oh."

All this and I still can't get a mommy -- lol.

The Final Proposition

At 10:44 p.m. Sunday he sent me the the following text message:

This is my final proposition. We put the war behind us. we move in together. I will be humble. Take care of kids."

I would comment, but I am still laughing.

CPS came knocking

I had just stripped the baby down to check her temperature anally when the knock came.
“Can you get that?” I yelled to the babysitter.

She opened the door and immediately called me over. I wander over to the front door with naked, squirming baby in hand, and a very attractive woman greeted me.

“I am with Department of Children and family, child protective service,” she said.

I blinked and just stared at her for a few minutes before mumbling, “Come on in.”

I handed the baby to K- the babysitter – to dress her while I tried to get my brain to focus. CPS here in my home, why? I have been a good mother, haven’t I? What could this possibly be about?

We had an anonymous report called in, saying the home was unsanitary and unsafe for the child,” she explained.

I know I kept breathing, but someone how it didn’t feel like it, and the more she talked the harder it became to breath and the more my disbelief grew, not only because of what she was saying but because I knew who made the complaint and why.

We all have a distinctive way of speaking. It’s the same why all writers have a specific style to their writing. It gives us away all the time.

The accusation was that I had the child lying around in towels and sheets filled with feces and vomit and ooh that I slept in my clothes, and how “a child that suffers from breathing issues can’t live in such conditions.”

Now, first let me say the accusation is false. A month ago the baby was sick with the stomach flu, and all she did for a week was poop or vomit. I was constantly changing her, the bed, and the sofa and wiped out all the towels in the house cleaning up the mess.

I used gloves all the time and put them in garbage bags in a corner of the house to take to a Laundromat. This wasn’t something my little washer and dryer at home could handle and believe me I tired. On at the first sign of improvement, when she went an whole day without popping every hour, I went to Laundromat and washed everything for $80.

A month later that was being used against me to say I am an unfit mother. Hey, I am not the cleanest person, messy, yes – but you try being a single mom, working fulltime, freelance, and taking care of a 9 month old, and maintain an utterly spotless home.

In fact the caseworker said the same thing. She said she saw clutter but nothing that would classified as unsanitary.

She then asked. “Do you have an idea of who would make such a complaint?”

I laughed, a bitter, slightly madwoman laugh. “Yes, her father. A week ago, I filed for child support.”

An expression of understanding dawned on her face. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but I would encourage you to continue seeking child support.”

It is the only thing that makes sense. The complaint is about something that was a month old. Anyone who was that concern would have called that day, not a month later, and I doubt CPS sits on complaints for a month. Besides there were only two people allowed in the house at that time, him and the babysitter, and she was as shocked as I was to see CPS.

As I said early, the way we speak, gives us away, and one of his comments that day when he came to visit was, “a child that suffers from breathing issues can’t get fresh air in all this mess.”
It was great for him to judge when in the midst of it all, I had called him to come take her for at least a day to help me, and he bluntly refused.

However the biggest proof was a text message from him 7:19 p.m. Friday April 3 – “So u think I reported u?”

Hmmmm – tell me deadbeat dad how did you know there was a report if I didn’t tell you about it and they didn’t tell you.

Anyways, at this point, I wait to hear a final judgment from CPS. Pray for me, even though the casework did says she thinks it’s a nothing case, but I take nothing for granted.

Today he called

to tell me, " I am repulsed by the thought of knowing you."

I had one response: "Thank you."

Today's Text Messages

12:59 -- I am on the phone doing a interview this pops up: "How's baby today?"

I don't respond, and by about 1:13 I get this. "Why are you so downright nasty? Can't tell me how is baby."

I text back: "She is at the daycare. You know that. You usually call them to find out how she is doing. You call them everyday. You are just texting me now to harrass me at work, and it's been noted."

His reply: 1:23 p.m. "Ur idot."

I don't reply. It's time to shut him out, knowing the insults will only get worse. Sure enough, two minutes later at 1:25 -- "Fine don't tell me, heartless beyoch."

Today it's almost civil for him. Yesterday with his 7-year old son in the backseat he shouts. " You could have someone there and fucking him in the garage I don't give a damn."

All this because I asked him to drop baby off at work because -- shock -- I was at work. I also knew that if I met him at the house it would be more of his verbal abuse. I have made it a point of never allow him in my house or be anywhere private with him. That at least forces him to be somewhat civil, and he wonders why I don't want to be with.

“Can she stand with assistance,” her doctor asked.

At that moment, she shimmed off my lap and positioned herself on the floor between my legs. She then took a few tentative steps forward holding on to my thighs until she was close enough to reach over and grab his.

Now using his legs as support, she stood and flashed a wide four-tooth grin at him.
Dr. A shook his head and laughed. “I guess I got my answer.”

Haha that is my girl. Happy, laid, back stubborn, and I see a future of joy and challenges ahead. For now, I enjoy that she is healthy weighing 20.7 pounds and of average height at 26 ¾.

Knew It Was Coming

Just got the baby to sleep when there was a knock on the door. Open it and it was a process server.

Forclosure papers have been filed. I am losing the house. I knew it was coming, don't know why I am crying.

Clean your own ****

“Can I use your bathroom?” The repairman asked with that urgent school boy look on his face.
“Sure,” I replied.
“But forgive the mess. The baby has been sick, puking and pooping,” I added pointing to the bag filled with stinky diapers.
“Hey, I understand,” he said quickly closing the door.
A couple of minutes later, he comes out, looking relief and hit me with the cost of fixing the dishwasher. The deal is done and he leaves. I head to the bathroom and the stench overwhelms me. He obviously took a dump.
Not a big deal, I thought until I look on the toilet and the floor. He took a dump all right and some of it didn’t make it into the toilet. I am sure he would love for me to blame it on the baby, but here is the catch, her poop these last couple of days have been green, yellow and white, not brown.
Nothing I can do now he is gone. I just put on my gloves and get to work, but damn it, I tired of cleaning up shit – both the baby’s and the repairman.

Dark Days

“Trust in the lord to take you through,” she says.

I remain silent. It offers little comfort. I am losing my faith in the lord. I am losing my faith in faith. I am losing hope.

It’s the third day in a row, a friend or a sitter is putting my little one to bed because I have to work. As I drive to my meeting, tears streaming down my face, I wonder why?

Why am I in this job?

Why do I sacrifice moments with her for a job where I am continually a target? Some days I am targeted by people in the community, and other’s a target in the workplace. For the past couple of weeks, I have been both.

Letters, emails from both sides to my bosses complaining, making accusations. Notes on websites --complaining, making accusations. This kind of focused, organized, irrational hatred is new to me. I am struggling with how to deal with it?

As a good friend of my mines put it, “You'd think things like this would be behind you after high school.”

I pull into the parking lot but don’t have the energy to get out. I am back to why?

There is no financial payout – not anymore. I don’t make enough to pay my bills – not anymore, not with a new baby. In fact, my home is about to be foreclosed on.

“You are in a noble profession,” I try to tell myself, but it doesn’t have that same feeling anymore. Usually, when I say that it would warm me, reassure me that I was making a difference. Now, I just feel fed up and frustrated. The nobility is gone. Now it’s just a job.

I find my warmth and nobility in her. It’s a marvel watching her discover her world a little more each day. She is trying to crawl. She squirms a little, then pulls up on all fours, rock back and forth, before collapsing back on her tummy. It’s a matter of moments, but each and every second is priceless.

It is in those moments that I have my focus. It in those moments I see light in the dark days.

Welcome To My World

4:27 a.m.
It’s that cough – the one I don’t like, the one that shakes her little body and makes it hard for her to breath। I wait to see if it will go away. There is a moment of silence, but sure enough the cough returns. It’s quickly followed by a whimper. In my head, I hear mommy. She can’t speak, but I know that whimper means mommy.

Sleep is quickly forgotten as I jump out of bed to get her। She greets me with a smile. I swear; God blessed me with the happiest baby on the face of this earth. There she is, her sleep rudely interrupted with a nasty cough and stuffy nose and she greets me with a smile. Of course, I smile back as I lift her out.

There is something heavenly about holding her warm little body against my chest, and inhaling a scent that is uniquely her। We head to the bathroom where I turn on the shower and faucet to steam up the room. It works its charm and pretty soon the snot flows from her nose. Now comes the fun part; suctioning what didn’t make it out and wiping her nose. My little drama queen loves to act like I am killing her. It’s now 5 a.m., and yup, she screams her head off. I am convinced at that moment my neighbor is calling child protective services, but no one comes knocking the door, at least not tonight.

Instead of trekking back to her room, I take her into my room। She is still coughing, but it’s not as intense, and she happily babbles – “baba baba.” I am convinced she is going to be a singer. She has the sweetest voice. We curl up together in my queen-size bed. She wants to play. I want to sleep, so we compromise. She plays on me while I stare at her half dead, mumbling go to bed every now and then. She takes it as a sign of me playing and pounds on me more. We keep at this for about 10 minutes, when another coughing fit hits and she pukes all over the bed.

I am too tired to change the sheets, so I just take them off the bed and prepare to sleep on the bare mattress। I just need a blanket. I reach over into a nearby pile of clean, unfolded laundry. I see the dog piled onto of the, and I repeat clean, laundry. My words cannot be repeated here, and yes the dog is still alive.

Finally, the dog is in her bed, and baby and I are curled up on the mattress under a nice, now somewhat clean blanket। It’s about 5:45, and at about 6 a.m. baby finally realizes mommy doesn’t want to play and goes to sleep.

6:30 a.m.
Alarm goes off. I hit snooze a couple dozen times before 7:30 a.m. when I realize crap I am going to be late. The next two hours consist of getting baby and myself ready for the day. Finally, by 9:45 a.m., I drop her off at the daycare. They love her there. They spoil her there. She breaks into a smile and practically jumps out of my hands to get to her teacher. It’s a move that put me at ease and breaks my heart at the same time. I should be the only one she jumps to like that, but I like to think that her little heart is big enough to love lots of people and that includes, mommy, grandma and her teacher.

10 a.m.
I am dragging myself into work। I desperately need sleep. The 4:27 a.m. wake up is beginning to weigh on me, but I can’t call in sick or slack off. I have a story to write and deadline to meet. The stress level is high. I have a coworker who thinks I shouldn’t be there and makes it her duty to check everything I do. I have no idea what I did to her, but sometimes it doesn’t matter. A person just hates you whether it’s because of the color of your skin or the way you dress. You live and you learn and you deal with it. It’s the same for sources. But once again that is the nature of the business.

Finally, after nearly eight hours of the continuous stress, I can smile। It’s time to get her. I walk through the door, and this time she is jumping from her teacher’s hands to get to me. She burst into a smile.

With all the stress of work, financial concerns and the general worries that come with being a single mom – everything is made right with that smile.

Welcome to my world.