Monday, October 20, 2014

Alive and Mostly Well

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A while back I received an anonymous comment. This person simply mentioned that I hadn't blogged in a while and hoped that all was well. It meant a lot, to know that some lovely stranger on the internet was worrying about me, hoping that I was well, hoping that all the shit that's been weighing me down has somehow been resolved.

So, anonymous, I wanted to take a moment to reply. I'm ok. Alive. More convinced than ever that I have a superhuman ability to carry on through the absolute worst of times. Man, that sounds depressing.

Right now I'm still in a state of limbo. Still awaiting some sort of satisfactory resolution. But I will say that I've begun to find some sense of equilibrium again. I've managed to take the bad things and hold them out, on their own, away from the good. To not let those things taint the very amazing parts of my life. Because there are plenty of those too.

My girls are happy, they are growing. Caitlyn started preschool this year and she's doing amazingly well. She loves it. Alexandra, at just 10 and a half months old, took her first steps a week ago. She's smart and smiley and the nosiest child I've ever seen in my entire life. When they are together, interacting and in their own private sister world, I can't help but smile ear-to-ear. I could not ask for a better big sister for Alex than Caitlyn. They adore each other and watching that unfold on a day to day basis fills my heart to the point that I think it might burst and shoot out fucking rainbows and unicorns and shit. When I think about the mistakes I've made and the regrets I have, it's easy to get caught up in the could have and would have's. But then I'll look at my girls playing together, or Caitlyn feeding Alex a little bite of her snack or a little drink of her juice and I can't help but think it's worth every second of disaster I've invited into my life.

I'm hoping to have more resolution soon, but I'm finally starting to be able to put aside everything the moment I'm not actively dealing with it and just be myself again. I'm mending my relationship with Rodolfo. Our family feels good, happy, normal- at least most of the time.

I'm hoping that once I'm done being endlessly in limbo that I'll be back to posting regularly again. I have so much to tell. I won't make any promises for now, except for one: We will be ok no matter what happens.

Thank you all so much for being here, despite that fact that I have not.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

By Way of Explanation...

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I feel that I'm at a point where I owe you guys an explanation for my prolonged absence. And so here it is:
 
Last year, I got pregnant unexpectedly, by someone I didn't know very well. I had been separated from my husband and I made a mistake. A big one.
During the course of my pregnancy, it became very clear that this man, despite all his claims that he would support my decision to keep our baby, did not want to be a father. There was the time he asked me to move in with him and then provided me with a list of things I would not be allowed to do in his home (including that I would be required to sleep on a mattress on the floor because his dog was not able to jump up onto a regular bed and he didn't want to inconvenience his dog). There was the time we took my older daughter to the fair and he was angry with me for a week afterwards because we spent all our time there doing what my 3 year old wanted to do and not what HE wanted to do. There were the first 3 or 4 times he mentioned how much he had wished I had an abortion. I felt disregarded and disrespected, and I knew it just wouldn't work. We broke up just shy of the 4th month of my pregnancy.
Still, he claimed he wanted to be involved, and I tried to let him be. A week after deciding that our relationship could not sustain the pressure of a pregnancy so early, I had an ultrasound appointment and learned we would have a daughter. I was thrilled to give my older daughter a new baby sister. He was considerably less so. We left the appointment and he began to argue with me. He was angry that I had ended the relationship. He regretted getting me pregnant. And then he said the words that would guide the decisions that brought me to the point I am today- just minutes after leaving an ultrasound appointment and finding out that he would be a dad to a beautiful baby girl in a few short months- he asked me for the last time if I would have an abortion.
I was appalled. And devastated. It's one thing to be 6 weeks into an unplanned pregnancy and have the man who put you in that position suggest an abortion. It was quite another to be 16 weeks and have him say it 5 minutes after finding out he would be having a daughter. To make matters worse, he knew very well that I had suffered through first infertility and then the devastating stillbirth of my first child with my husband. I just couldn't believe he could be so callous.
As the weeks went by, he apologized and I did my best to forgive him. I told him he could keep coming to my doctor's appointments. He told me he really loved our baby. After things settled down and I had some time to think about my new daughter and what I should name her, I told him that, because we were unmarried and I wanted her to share a last name with her sibling, I would give her my married last name. He flipped out. He threatened me. He went behind my back and contacted members of my family trying to convince them to talk me out of it because "kids always have their dad's last name". And then he told me he didn't believe she was his after all. That his sister had questioned it all along, and that his mom was sure I was a "gold digger", just trying to get at his money.

I had enough. I cut off all contact from that point. And then I told my husband everything- that I had gotten pregnant, that the guy kept pressuring me to have an abortion, that I didn't know what to do. He was there for me and it saved our relationship. We got back together. He told me he would be there for my new daughter as well. And her biological dad never attempted to make contact after that for my entire pregnancy.
My second daughter was born in December of 2013- healthy and happy with two parents who would love her unconditionally, and a big sister who was never so excited about anything in her entire life as the arrival of our new baby.
I sent a text to her biological dad shortly after her birth and told him that I had taken a paternity test and that she was my husband's baby. A mistake, in retrospect, but what I truly believed he wanted to hear at the time. Two weeks later, I received a summons to appear in court for another paternity test. He didn't want her, he never asked about her, and now he was going to drag my family into a courtroom.
Nothing has been the same since then. We have been in and out of court since then, and he's done everything in his power to make our lives unbearable. He's lied about everything.
He currently has 5 days a week visitation based on the premise that he mostly works weekends and would be home with her while I'm at work. She spends 2/3 of that time in daycare. The fact that she's being kept away from her sister to spend time with strangers in daycare is apparently irrelevant. As is the fact that he's quite maliciously left all my contact information out of the daycare center's records, and refuses to list me as so much as an emergency contact/pick up person. I found that little detail out not because I showed up in the middle of the day and tried to take her, but because I was calling on a daily basis to get information about her feedings and naps and diaper changes because he was refusing to give me this information and was eventually told I would need to speak to the director, because they were uncomfortable telling me anything, because I was essentially a stranger to them. In fact, the director confirmed this to me almost verbatim- "as far as I'm concerned he is the parent and you are a stranger".
I should probably mention, though it's probably obvious, that I did not have any say in choosing the daycare center. His mother and sister work there and so it was arbitrarily decided by him, and approved by a judge without so much as a word about what that would mean for my rights.
The situation continues to escalate on a nearly daily basis. What started as rude comments and a demanding attitude, has turned into him making an array false accusations in a courtroom, all while claiming that I lack credibility to deny them because I told him that baby wasn't his after her birth. It has escalated into screaming matches when I ask where my daughter is, and who will be caring for her at any given time.
It has escalated to the point that, after I asked him to pay a couple of medical bills for my daughter (after having $1200 worth of medical expenses since her birth), he got inches from my face and berated me for a full five minutes. And at that point, I had had enough. I went to the police station and filed for a temporary restraining order. I was sick and tired of being screamed at and disrespected for simply asking about my child, or expecting him to commit to an equal amount of responsiblility and not just the equal rights he keeps demanding (despite getting every single thing he's asked for, he continues to claim I'm keeping her away from him and being uncooperative).
And that's where we are at today. Or actually, just a little past it. Yesterday was the hearing for my restraining order. It had been 12 days since my temporary one had been granted and this was a hearing to ask that it be made permanent.
My request was not granted. Rather, I spent two hours being accused of lying. I got my very justifiable fear and discomfort put on display and mocked. I got asked if I was illiterate. And in the end, I left court with the promise that my filing for a restraining order for an incident that he claims never happened, would be used against me at our upcoming hearing to amend the visitation schedule and order child support.
He told me he will take her. He told me he will get custody. He told me he will get overnights with her and he doesn't care if she's breastfeeding and he doesn't care if it's not best for her. He doesn't care if it hurts my older daughter. All he cares about is making me pay for my mistake.
I'm terrified. This man is making my life hell, and at this point I feel like I'm not even able to report his scary behavior and outbursts of rage because I will get called a liar and it will be used against me. And that was sort of my jumping off point for why I felt it was time to really sit down and explain why I've been missing. Because I'm afraid, and I want it out there that I'm afraid of HIM.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Nightmare

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I'm a giant ball of anxiety today. Unfortunately, I can't really get into too many details yet because this is too public and I made the mistake of telling too many people irl about my blog.

But here's the thing. When you have a baby with someone by accident, someone you barely know, it's kind of fucking terrifying. With Rodolfo, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew his flaws but I also knew all the reasons he would be a good dad. And he's still a good dad. In fact, he's been a good dad to both of my girls. I'm lucky in that way, because despite everything, despite the fact that I accidentally got knocked up barely a year after we split, he hasn't let me go through this alone. He hasn't watched me struggle- emotionally, financially- and thought to himself "not my problem". To think about it now, to say I knew his flaws before we ever had a child, isn't giving him nearly enough credit. Because I did know his flaws, but I realize now that I never gave him nearly enough credit for how deeply good he is at his core. Despite it being in his nature to be harsh sometimes, judgmental even, when it came down to it, Rodolfo has been there for me. And I probably didn't deserve it.

On the other hand, I have Alex's bio dad. The one who has fought me every step of the way. The one who questioned her paternity the moment he didn't get his way. The one who went behind my back and tried to turn my own family against me (Ha. Good luck with that one, asshole). The one who forced me to go to court to prove her paternity, but has not before or since once asked about her well being, has not once offered to buy her a diaper, has not once made the time to meet her. He is the guy who, when we are due back in court in a couple of weeks, will paint me as the bad guy who kept him away without even so much as a drop of self-reflection on his own shitty behavior.

The worst part, the part that is giving me nightmares and stomach cramps and a constant sense of dread, is the fact that, in the end, he will still have rights to her. He will still get to see her. He will still fight me every step of the way despite never showing a drop of genuine love or attachment to her. Because that is who he is. He's that guy who always gets his way, always proves he's "right", always justifies his own flaws. And I have to hand her over to this man who I do not trust. My baby, who I love more than life itself, I have to give her to him and walk away and try to hold it together and not show him how scared and sad and desperate I am, because that will only further motivate him to spite me. I have to explain to Caitlyn why her sister leaves us at regular intervals to go stay with a stranger who has barely acknowledged her existence.

I'm overwhelmed. I'm emotional. I'm doing everything I can to put on a brave face and I'm failing.

Please, wish me luck in the coming weeks. I'm going to need it.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

A Dating Profile for Dear Old Dad

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I'm dealing with some difficult shit right now. Rather than talk about it, I've decided to make fun of my dad some more. It's like meditation for me:

I've said it before and I'll say it again- my dad is kinda the worst. He's been calling a lot lately- and by that I mean when he has money to put minutes on his prepaid phone. Because he is a grown man with a prepaid phone. No offense to prepaid phone users or anything, but unless you're artfully dodging a handful of baby mommas/bill collectors/lawyers, a grown up should have, at the very least, a monthly cell phone plan. You ain't gotta be fancy and pay Verizon $100 a month. T-mobile will set you up for a cool $35. That's the part that makes it especially sad though. Despite owing so much money to SO many people, he WANTS them to call him. He wants to self-righteously rant at them about how he can't afford to pay and that is... somehow... their problem, apparently. In fact, this whole rant today started out because he had given out MY phone number to one of his bill collectors (again) and I'm annoyed about it.

Anyway. I've decided I need to find someone to take him off my hands. He hasn't had a girlfriend since my mom left him 20 something years ago. I think it's time to take him into the new millenium with online dating! I mean, sure he claims he's "tried it" before. But only when E-Harmony is having a free weekend. Because those other dating sites? Girls send him DIRTY messages and pictures of themselves dressed like whores! He's not that kind of hobo. In any case, honesty is important, so I think I'll take care of his profile for him. I mean, everyone lies on their dating profile, but you can't really trust a sociopath to be even close to honest. If I want to find him a lady life partner, I'm gonna have to lay his true self on the line:

Name:
Bill. AKA Hobo Bill. AKA Tubby.

Description:
Surprisingly young looking for 60. I suppose it's easy to get fewer gray hairs and wrinkles when you refuse to deal with any of your problems and dump them on everyone you know. One place where his lack of responsibility might show though, is right in the chompers. His teeth. He has none. I mean, fake teeth are totally expensive and he had some this one time but then he bit into a really hot slice of pizza while walking through a parking lot and accidentally spit them out onto the ground and then they got run over (what, that hasn't happened to you?). Clothes and feet are always sparkling clean with the scent of bleach though. Maybe a little faded, but it's totally worth it. Also, sometimes he wears multiple layers of clothing at once, so as to be able to remove the outside layer daily and have on a clean outfit. By the time he gets to that innermost outfit, he's fresh as a goddamn daisy.

Likes:
  • Not paying for anything, ever
  • Gambling
  • Berating people who are just doing their job
  • Sensationalized news stories
  • Welfare fraud
  • Talking about himself and greatly exaggerating absolutely every aspect of his existence on this planet as a human being
  • Bleach
  • Using the ER as a means to get his blood pressure medication
  • Bahama Mamas (the giant hot dogs from 7-11, not the drink)
  • Feeling 100% justified in stealing from his employer because "I had no money to eat with" even though he's totally getting food stamps

Dislikes:
  • Paying for anything, ever
  • The government- judges in particular because WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE, JUDGING HIM???
  • Immigrants, because they are totally stealing all the CEO jobs he would have if they just went back to their country. And also because they get pissed when he sleeps in his car outside their 7-11 store.
  • Gays. "I don't hate gay people. I just think they shouldn't be allowed to get married or have kids because then the kids will be gay because they will only see gay stuff and think that's normal"
  • Legitimate welfare recipients. Oh, you think you're SO important just because you're not using this money to buy scratch-offs!
  • AIDS (please see also: Gays. Because it's totally their fault, you guys).
What He's Looking For:
A lovely lady to take care of him. And by "take care of", obviously I mean fuel his gambling problem while providing a free place for him to live a life of luxury. He'd also really like it if you didn't mind him being enormously ungrateful for all of this. In fact, I'd say any expectation of graciousness on his part whatsoever is probably going to be a dealbreaker. He's also really like it if you wouldn't mind him sitting on your couch unbathed about 90% of the time, while he watches Fox News and dozes in and out of conciousness while loudly snoring.

So ladies, message me if you'd like to meet him, and I'll let you know when he has minutes on his phone.





Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Baby Bunny: The Many Ways My Second Child Has Made Me Realize I Was Crazy When I Had My First

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Baby Alexandra was born on December 3rd.

I have to admit, I wasn't really looking forward to having a newborn again. I know that sounds terrible, but it's true. In part, I blame my sister, whose new baby boy was born at the end of October and whose Facebook feed after his birth was a train wreck of miserable-sounding updates about how whiny and difficult her new baby was.

It got me thinking about Caitlyn's first few months on this Earth. I would never say she was a bad baby, but I do remember feeling overwhelmed by her needs. She seemed to always need something- a bottle, a diaper change, a burp, non-specific comfort. Add to that sleep deprivation and the fact that she wouldn't latch so I was pumping my breastmilk every 2 hours, and it felt like a never-ending cycle where I didn't even have time to take a shower. And I had help back then. Rodolfo and I were living together, and he brought his parents to stay with us for the first month after Caitlyn was born.

So I was thinking of all of this. Of the neediness. Of not having someone always around to help. Of having to do all that newborn baby, needy meatloaf shit while simultaneously taking care of my 3 year old. And I was a little freaked out.

And then my new baby came and I realized all that freaking out was for nothing. She's totally sweet and easy and mellow. Also? I realized that I was kind of a paranoid fucking crazy person when I had my first daughter. Here are some other lessons I learned:

1. Taking a shower isn't negligent parenting. No newborn baby ever died/was ruined for life because they woke up during mommy's 10 minute shower and cried for a few minutes while she was busy washing crusted breastmilk off her nipples and making sure her c-section incision didn't end up infected because she hadn't showered in a week. Also? That hilarious nonsense where I'd put Caitlyn in her bouncy seat and bring it into the bathroom with me just to be sure she didn't smother herself in her crib while I showered? No thanks. She couldn't even fucking move. What did I really expect was going to happen? And another thing about that- if the baby starts crying while I shampoo my hair, I'm not going to stop shampooing my hair out of guilt (and you can only really hear them crying if you bring them in the bathroom with you anyway). Wait 5 minutes kid, I promise you'll survive.

2. Everyone thinks you are a moron when you have a newborn. And I'm not just talking about well-meaning old grannies on the street who want to tell you all the ways in which your baby isn't warm enough. I'm talking about the very first people you encounter after having the baby- the hospital staff. Man, do they ever think you're an idiot. And the first time, they are sorta right. As a first-time mom, I remember listening so intently to every ridiculously obvious piece of advice they gave me at the hospital. Sure, a lot of it seemed like common sense, but in the same way, a lot of it was stuff that never even occurred to me to think about. This time? Did I really need to attend the "mandatory" class the hospital expects you to take before you leave? Thanks, but I already knew that I shouldn't leave my newborn on a counter and walk away. I already knew that I should burp her halfway through a feeding. And, presumably everyone attending this class has been tending to a vagina on a regular basis for a minimum of 15-20 years, right? What grown ass woman needs it explained to her that she should be "wiping front to back" when changing diapers? Because really, that's just a delicate way of saying "you know you shouldn't smear shit into your infant daughter's vagina, right?". WE SHOULD ALL KNOW THIS ALREADY!

3. Neediness of the baby variety is significantly less impressive to me this time around. As I said, with Caitlyn, it was a big transition going from doing whatever the fuck I wanted to constantly putting the needs of another person ahead of my own. It was overwhelming. Now? Well, I have to say, the needs of my 3 year old greatly outnumber the needs of my newborn. The baby? Food, sleep, fresh diapers. That is literally it. Sometimes she wants to be held and sometimes she's got a fart stuck in her belly that she's trying to get out, but other than that, she needs very little from me. Caitlyn, on the other hand, needs more than just basic life necessities. So in addition to having to make sure she is fed, clothed, and bathed, there are about a million other needs she has: Every single toy she sees on a commercial, for example (or Bulova watch on a billboard, for that matter. She's in an I-want-literally-everything-I-see phase). A glass of water the exact moment my head hits the pillow to go to sleep. Chocolate milk in her Happy Meal, even though I explicitly asked her multiple times and she insisted she wanted apple juice. And those are just some physical needs. Her emotional needs are endless and I'm expected to solve every existential crisis of her 3 year old life- why is the sky blue, what is that dog doing to that other dog, why can't I have a lollipop before dinner, why do I even have to eat dinner, why can't I look at my vagina in a public place, why does his mommy let him do stuff that my mommy doesn't let me do- WHY ARE YOU SUCH A MEAN MOMMY?? In the end, I'll do anything for my girls. That's what I signed up for when I signed up for being a mom. It's just funny in retrospect to think about how overwhelmed I was by providing only the most basic of needs for a cute, smooshy little meatball that couldn't even move (let alone throw a temper tantrum, or actively disobey me) when I put her down somewhere.

4. Sleep deprivation is another thing that was utterly jarring the first time around. Now? Well kid, I haven't had an uninterrupted night of sleep in 4 years, and you're out cold 20 hours a day. Come at me. I can handle it just fine.

5. They aren't as breakable as you think they are at first. Caitlyn's first few months were smooth sailing. At worst, I think she had a bad rash once or twice. I remember when she was about 6 or 7 months old. I had been clipping her fingernails, but I couldn't find the baby nail clipper, and so I made the poor choice to use a grown up one. You know where this is going. I clipped the tip of one of her fingers. Not like I clipped it off, but I cut it enough that it was bleeding pretty steadily for a solid 10 minutes. I spent those 10 minutes in absolute hysterics, begging Rodolfo to take us to the emergency room. And because I was clutching onto her, sobbing like a lunatic and cursing myself for being the cause of the first real pain she had ever felt- the "worst thing that had ever happened to her" by my own assessment- she was hysterical too. When I called my mom and asked her to please convey the seriousness of the situation to Rodolfo, she told me "maybe you need to calm down and listen to your husband. Because based on what you are telling me, I really doubt that you have to worry about her bleeding to death from the tip of her finger.".

I think back to that, to how laughable her "injury" was and how terrified I was that she wouldn't survive it without medical intervention, and I realize how far I've come. I was never really the hysterical type, and once Caitlyn started walking and injuring herself every 12 seconds or so, I really developed a "shake it off" mentality. In fact, Caitlyn will tell me she's shaking it off now if she gets a little bump or bruise.

I bring this last one up because of what we are going through right now. I don't think I could have handled it if it had happened to Caitlyn. I would have been writing checks to Jesus that my base faith level simply couldn't cash. Baby Alexandra, at 26 days old, got admitted to the hospital for pneumonia. She had some nasal congestion and was sneezing for a couple of days leading up to it, and I had brought her to the pediatrician, who gave me a nebulizer and saline solution to try to break up her congestion. And then a day or so later she spiked a fever and came down with a horrible cough. I followed up with a second visit 2 days after I took her initially, and got sent immediately to the ER. After a chest x-ray, some bloodwork, and a lumbar puncture, it was determined that Alex has RSV- a common respiratory infection that still would have sucked had she been a little older when she got it, but it probably wouldn't have ended up turning into pneumonia over the course of a day or two. So we've been in the hospital, and she was admitted to the pediatric ICU a few days ago, when her breathing got considerably worse and she wasn't able to breathe well enough to even eat. But we've made a lot of progress since then and we hope to be going home in a day or two. She's a tough little cookie, just like her sister, and she's fighting this with everything she's got.

So that's my update. I had that baby I was telling you guys about. What's that? Pictures you say? Why, of course there are pictures.



Monday, December 2, 2013

Shit My Dad Says... About Welfare

6 comments
We've established that I was really poor as a kid. Welfare poor. The major reason for this was my dad. My useless, transient hobo with a gambling problem dad. It took my mom quite a few years to come to the realization that being on her own with 4 kids would actually be significantly easier than staying with him and trying to take care of us.

That said, we were still really poor. Except that single mothers of 4 kids can get help from the government instead of just living in a van and eating dinner out of vending machines like we did when we lived with my dad. And so we were on welfare, and food stamps, and eventually we were able to get into subsidized housing. You know, the projects. My mom still worked- mostly for our landlord to pay off our rent in the many years while we waited to get into housing we could afford. And then cleaning bars and homes and stuffing envelopes for our (by then) ex-landlord and a handful of her colleagues for 2 cents per envelope. Guys? Doing anything for 2 cents a piece is basically slave labor. I remember my mom staying up 24, 48 hours straight- sometimes longer- and making a whopping $25 for 2 straight days of work.

My point is that my mom busted her ass. Because she had to and because she would do anything for us. Because my dad didn't pay a single dime in child support, basically ever (the occasions he managed to collect unemployment where child support was taken out- much to his dismay- automatically, were like bonus time in our family). Because she couldn't afford child care and so she had to work odd jobs for next to nothing just so we could survive. I've always respected how hard she worked for us. As a parent myself now, it's really jarring to look back on it and see it from her perspective. As a kid, I knew we didn't have much money. I knew a lot of times I couldn't have something I wanted because we couldn't afford it. Hand-me-down clothes were the usual. Nothing about it seemed particularly hard for me as a child because it was all I ever knew. But now, as a parent? I look at how much I stress about making sure I can afford things that are luxuries- DVR and Christmas photo shoots- how I don't want Caitlyn to miss out on those things that aren't really going to hurt her in the long run- and I can't help but imagine what it must have been like for my mom to not be able to afford food and milk and diapers. Because, as the poet Eminem once said "these goddamn food stamps don't buy diapers". Preach, brother.

None of this is really the point though. We've already established that I hold my mother in the same regard as saints. Probably higher, actually. My point is that, through all of this- through quite literally nearly killing herself because she was taking care of 4 kids alone- my father always judged our lifestyle. On the occasions he came around (it was much less so when we were kids- I'm assuming because none of us had couches he could crash on yet), he always had rude comments about what my mom wasn't giving to us. Nevermind the fact that he hadn't contributed anything of value for the entirety of our childhood. He couldn't believe my mom had us living in the projects (apparently sleazy motels were much better)! He looked down at his nose at her for feeding us with food stamps (Oh, how she enjoyed those 1st of the month, 3 mile walks to and from the grocery store!). He particularly hated the fact that she was on welfare. He always thought himself far too good for welfare. Or maybe it just especially annoyed him because he was more likely to end up with an arrest warrant for not paying his child support when the money was owed to welfare. My point is that he would show up, and he would judge us. He would promise to get us out of such horrible conditions (and back into the shitty motels/homeless shelters we deserved!). He treated my mom as though all she was doing wasn't enough for his standards. Ironic.

Anyway. My dad stopped by for a visit a couple of weekends ago. I could tell he had some money in his pockets, because he wasn't using what I like to refer to as his "kill yourself" tone of voice for everything he said. I didn't even have to ask before he started telling me why. You guys? He's on welfare. And food stamps. And he is inexplicably getting rental assistance which has been approved through AUGUST. He is a 60 year old man who has never held a steady job, has pissed away every dime he's ever earned through his gambling addiction, has abused the kindness and asked favors of every single person he has ever known (his own children included), and passionately HATES "the system" for ever pursuing him for his obligations to his 4 children. And yet, he is happily abusing it now (and trust me, abusing is the right word. He openly admitted to winning $2000 on the lottery- he spent his WELFARE money on fucking lottery tickets!).

The worst part isn't even that he's abusing a service that he frequently judged my mom for needing while he contributed nothing during my childhood. The worst part is that he bitched about how inconvenient receiving welfare has been for him. You guys? Welfare asks questions. Like whether or not you are looking for a job. So RUDE! Also, he didn't even WANT welfare. He just wanted food stamps and rental assistance but they totally insisted on giving him welfare too. Ugh. And then, omg he totally had to sit in the welfare office for TWO STRAIGHT DAYS- he was even the LAST person they took on his second day of waiting- before they gave him a fucking free ride for the forseeable future. Tacky, welfare. So tacky. The customer is always right, you know. And the customer shouldn't have to wait 2 whole days that they definitely weren't going to spend at work, waiting around for your free money. And food. And housing.

Anyway. I digress. It's just that sometimes you are going through your own personal struggles. Real struggles, scary struggles, and you find you have to pull yourself up and realize that, well, you got yourself into this mess and you're just going to have to deal with it now. You'll be okay eventually. And then some jackass who is just begging to be dead to you comes to your house and bitches about how inconvenient he found his trip to the welfare office, and you have to hold yourself back from punching him in the face. On the upside, he did give me a red plastic Solo cup full of change though. Totally makes up for that whole "absentee father" thing.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

A Guide To Your Classy Unplanned Pregnancy

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I figured you were all wondering how my pregnancy is going. I wanted to let you know that my main focus has been to remain as dignified as humanly possible during this unplanned affair. I know, I know. You hear the words "unplanned pregnancy" and your mind automatically conjures up images of someone who has been on 16 and Pregnant.

It doesn't have to be that way. You can make it through your own unplanned pregnancy with all the grace of a 30 year old woman who absolutely should have known better. Mostly because when you are 30 and pregnant, people just assume you did it on purpose (related: Don't blab to your gossipiest coworker that you are getting a divorce and also nailing some random dude, only to end up accidentally pregnant a few months later. There will be follow-up questions, you guys).

There are so many ways to keep it classy. So many different scenarios. Let's go over a few of them:

Lesson 1: No One Wants to Hear About Your Shit Problems
When I was pregnant with Caitlyn, I had a good friend of mine ask that I please stop narrating to him my every thought about shitting. That didn't exactly stop me back then, but it did give me something to think about this time around. It's plenty bad enough to know that all of my friends are wondering just how many IQ points I've lost since they met me that this even happened, so I guess I don't need to keep calling attention to my personal lack of judgment by not editting my need to talk about the fact that my body keeps cycling back and forth between extreme constipation of the sticky variety, and crapping 5 times a day while we are on our way to dinner.

Lesson 2: No One Particularly Want to Hear About Your Other Problems, Either
I have great friends and family. Really I do. They support me and love me and are there for me when I need them. But I do try to remind myself often that, ahem, I sort of did this to myself, and I know lots of people dealing with non-self-inflicted problems and so maybe I should bitch a little bit less about my own personal stupidity.

Lesson 3: Strangers Do NOT Fuck With the Pregnant Lady
Sometimes, in your personal life, you're going to need to curb your tendencies toward blaming your accidental pregnancy for your random emotional outbursts. This does not apply in public. Strangers don't know it was an accident! They already assume you are classy, yet emotionally unstable. Use this to your advantage. Maybe you wouldn't normally complain about slow service in a restaurant, but you are PREGNANT now. Talk to that manager. You're going to need to save some money anyway, and the pregnant woman who bitches about the service gets free food for her and her friends.

Lesson 4: Are You Absolutely Sure He's the Dad? Because He Isn't!
Sure, you made a mistake. But you aren't the only one. That shit was 50/50. Stunningly enough, though, despite knowing that he had unprotected sex with you, he is going to question the baby's paternity. Especially if you break up with him or decide that you want the baby to have your last name (and really, how DARE you! That's a man's right!). This is like the ultimate "keep it classy" lesson. Because you'll want to be sure you don't outright tell him to go fuck himself in a text message. That shit doesn't look good in court. That said, go right ahead and feed into his suspicions- "well... I suppose it's possible that she isn't yours. I'm like 99% sure, but who knows?". You just got him to leave you alone for the rest of your pregnancy! Nothing says classy like being deliberately vague about the paternity of your adorable little bastard.

Lesson 5: Time to Get Your First Round of STD Tests in Almost a Decade!
There is just nothing classier than a responsible lady. And nothing says responsible like going to your doctor at 5 months pregnant and asking for a "just in case" round of STD screenings. I mean, you DID have unprotected sex with a dude you only knew for a few months. And you DID happen to find out that you were actually his side piece for the first several months you were seeing him because he was apparently cheating on his long-term girlfriend with you. For the record though, what a classy lady should NOT do is try to sneak a look at her blood test results before the doctor comes in the room, because she may find herself and her equally classy bestie googling random STDs she's convinced herself she saw a check mark next to on her results. Herpatitis, you guys. It could have been a real thing. Except it totally isn't.