The Atomic Mom

The Sheriff Came..

I tried to lay down and get some sleep after such a horrible day, but sleep eludes me. My mind is frantic, confused, and bothered. My heart is aching to the point of actual physical pain, and it's not understandable to me. Today, to say the least, was a very bad day.

I go to work to pick up my paycheck, and was told that I had written my schedule down wrong, and that I had to be there at noon rather than three. Okay, not that big of a deal. I ran across the street to cash my check and came right back. All day at work I was bothered and felt like things just weren't write. I wasn't worth a fuck at work. I couldn't stay focused, and I just wanted to leave so bad. At some point during the day I noticed that everyone around me was buzzing with happiness - they had gotten their summertime bonus. I was the only one at the company who didn't receive one. I know that I haven't been there a very long time, but they could have given me something. Anything. Five dollars would have even made me feel not so left out. It would be different if I weren't the only one not to receive one, but I was. Everyone else was told to just not discuss it. Oh, but they did. They were all so happy, and talked about all the nice things they could buy now, while I was standing around trying to think of ways to stretch my measly earnings for two weeks. I don't know why, but that hurt.

I managed to leave work a little bit early to see my baby graduate preschool. My mother was waiting on me outside. When we start to walk through the gymnasium doors I see him. His father had shown up. I managed to smile when I walked by, and said "excuse me" when squeezing between him and someone else. He said, "What are you doing?" I replied with "Oh, nothing.. came to see the baby." He was just like "yeah.." and that was it. My mom is following me and she starts vomiting at the mouth telling him to leave, and telling him that she doesn't even want my son to see him. He just walks off and sits in the corner. He wasn't doing anyone any harm, and just came to watch from the shadows.

That isn't good enough for my mother. She always has to feel like she won. She goes outside and calls the cops to tell them that he's violated the stupid E.P.O. she issued when he tried to bring my son's birthday presents last year. She actually put him in jail for that, and got an E.P.O.

In walks a sheriff, and he knows what's going on, so he starts walking toward him, and they walk out together. My mom is sitting in the stands smiling. I followed them out to see if he took him to jail, but he didn't. He just told him to leave. I was steaming by this point. I was so pissed that I was seeing red.

I mean, really, who the fuck does she think she is? I was actually very happy that he showed up just to watch my son sing silly songs and get a graduation certificate. He didn't mean any harm, and only planned on watching from the side. The baby would have never even known he was there. It made me feel good, because I remember being little and feeling so lonely when I would look up in the stands and only see my mom. I remember how the other children had big families up there cheering them on, and I never did. Even if he wouldn't have known, his dad would have at least been there to cheer him on, which is more than I can say for my dad, and who is she to take that away from him?? Yes, I know he wasn't very good to me, but he has always been good to the baby.

It just made me so happy to see him standing there alone on his own free will. I haven't even talked to him in a very long time, and I don't even know how he knew what time the ceremony was, but he showed up to sit on the complete other side of the gym and watch his only son from across the room. I mean, I would have gave him that much.

Oh, not mom. She plans on making sure that he NEVER sees my son. She has made that her mission in life, and she wanted him put in jail for it. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel as though if I have gotten over the hell he put me through, and am able to move on.. then everyone else can at least be civil about it. I mean, I don't even think about all that happened in the past when I see him, but she will not let it pass. Will not. Then with her acting like a complete idiot in front of everyone, and thinking that she won when he was escorted out - oh it ate me up. This is MY life.. I wish she would just let me be.

Yes, he did something wrong TO ME. That is why we are not together, but I wouldn't stop him from quietly watching our son. Who am I to stop that? I don't even feel like I have a right from keeping him there, so why should she?

She just thinks she's something else. Damn queen of the world or something...

I am civil enough to forgive him. No, I will never forget, but I can move on to the next chapter. Why am I not allowed to move on to the next chapter?

Tonight's events have brought back so many painful memories of the past... and I'm sitting here with my heart completely torn to pieces. Watching him being escorted out was horrible, and I would have died if my boy would've seen that. I would have died.

The thing is that she's been like this my son's whole life. She has done anything and everything to keep his father away. She even swears every day that before she dies she will kill him. The sad part is that she means it. She is the last thing on his mind, but obviously she can't get him off of hers, and it's getting to the point where I've had enough. No, he's nothing to me, but he IS a human being. At least now anyway, and I am getting so sick and tired of this. Even when I was in the delivery room at the age of 20 she told the nurses that he was not allowed there, and to tell him to quit calling. He wasn't even "allowed" there for the birth of my son.. and my mother made sure she was after telling me that I was pregnant with a 'nigger bastard'.

I've got to get out of here as soon as possible. I'm 24 years old, and now is not the time when I need my mother trying to run my life.

She is such a sick sad woman. I just can't stop the tears. I can't stop my mind from churning and my heart from aching. This is MY life damn it. MINE. I want to scream that from the top of my lungs.

Once Upon a Time.

I've hesitated on publishing this post, but have decided to after reading some of the posts by the strong women at Violence Unsilenced.

I would like to tell you that my son's father was brilliant. I would like to say that he was sweet and tender and caring, and I would like to lie and say that the type of love we had is one not known to many. I wish I were able to brag about my son's wonderful genetic make up, but in fact some of those genes he has hidden somewhere within him scare me. Some of those genes are violent and hateful and a big mess of different mental disorders.

I would like to not talk about this at all, but since this is my blog, and I've told you about everything else that you didn't want to know about then I'll just go ahead and make the story complete. I feel like I've been hiding a big part of my life, and I'm not sure why. I realize now that none of this was my fault.

There was a five year period during my life in which this life did not belong to me. I didn't even belong to me. Anger and rage were both daily issues, and the slightest rise in voice tone was enough to make me quiver. There were times when I would have to walk through a store with my eyes on the ground hoping that the lady checking me out didn't notice the humongous bruise on the side of my face. There was a time when neighbor's would become frightened and call the cops in hopes of saving my life, and I would only hide everything from then when they came, because I was more worried about his life. He would hide, and I would say that we had gotten into an argument and he left. They would say "Obviously," to the 'gotten into an argument part, because the bruises on my arms and face were there like big blue and black flags. They would take pictures, and tell me that they couldn't make me press charges, but I at least needed to come to the station to file a report. I never would.

Help! My Child Has Been Abducted by Aliens!

I have lived through my first two weeks of having a job. It wasn't easy, and it's something I don't want to have to do for the rest of my life, but I have lived. Why do you have that look of surprise on your face? Well, thanks for your concern, but I'm doing just fine. We have amazing soft serve, and that makes it all worthwhile.

After spending the weekend telling my child not to touch anything, to quit hitting, and that his actions may just force mama to open up a can of whoop ass I have realized that he must have been abducted by aliens what a bad little boy my dear baby is turning into. Thank God he never hit (no pun intended) the terrible twos, because his behavior at the age of 4.5 makes up for every bit of it. I'm not sure what to do. Don't get me wrong, 80% of the time he is still a very well behaved little boy, but there is a 20% there that is almost too terrible for words.

You Can No Longer be a SAHM When. . .

• The only thing you have for your breakfast is Pizza Rolls. Sure, there are a couple of other things lying around, but those have to be saved for the baby's meals.
• You get gifts (such as digital cameras on Mother's Day) and insist they be taken back, because you know you won't have enough money to survive through the week.

Do you know what June 23rd is?

I'll give you one guess.

Dinner With 'Dad'

My promised update.

We decided to meet at The Waffle House, because it was kind of in the middle of the physical distance between us, which is a much smaller one than the actual distance between us.

My son and I got to town a little bit early, and I drove through the hospital parking lot just to show him around to keep him from getting bored. I actually wanted to show him the helicopter landing thing, but I couldn't even find it. I did see a sign advertising a nursing program that a university does, and it's obviously right there on hospital property. I took down the name and number and website - I may get some info on it later.

When we pulled into the restaurant they were already there. We walked in and the kid went straight for the bathroom, and made me stay at the table and wait for him. Dang four year olds and their growing self-responsiblity. I sat at the table with them and we had the usual conversations that people have. Even after the boy came from the bathroom the conversations stayed the same. What have you been doing? How's work? How's so-and-so? The baby? So, you went to see Lisa? When does she happen to go up for parole again? Just your average cushy normal conversations. Nothing special. Nothing meaningful. I think that's why he brings his wife with him almost every time; to keep that stuff from happening. You know, the meaningful conversation stuff.

Thankfully at one point he slipped a little bit of cash in the kid's pocket, and I said to the baby, "What are you going to buy with that?" He just kind of shrugged his shoulders, but my new dad said, "I'm sure he'll probably buy mommy some gas and cigarettes." Whatever. Thanks. They paid for dinner. We hugged. We left and said see you next time.

That is all our relationship consists of at this point, and I'm wondering if that will ever change.

After getting the cash all the kid wanted was to stop and get some candy. He had gave him a $20 bill. You have no idea how easily I convinced him that a $1 was better, and he quickly handed over the $20 to trade. Of course we still stopped and stocked up on sugary goodness.

A Little Flustered at Family

As the ones who have been reading my blog in the past know, I just met my biological father, that I call my New Dad, in January. Since then things have been okay, but at times I'm left feeling unwanted and pushy. Times like today.

Normally I visit usually every other weekend. I'm presuming this was the weekend I was to visit, because I called yesterday and he invited me up. I got myself and the kid ready, and right before we were getting ready to leave I got a call from him saying: You haven't left yet have you? I'm going to have to work today, so why don't you guys come up tomorrow and we will grill out. In a cheerful voice I reply, "Okay, that's fine. Yeah, sounds good to me." Then we hang up and I bawl my eyes out, ruining my perfectly applied eyeliner.

It's times like this when I wonder if what his evil daughter tells me is true. Maybe it is true that if he wanted anything to do with me that he would've contacted me; rather than me calling him up out of the blue last Christmas. Maybe he doesn't have a good relationship with his other daughter's and doesn't care to have one with me either. I'm so confused about every aspect of this new relationship that just thinking about it right now is bringing me to tears.

Today comes. The day of the so-called grill out. It's already 1pm and I haven't heard from him. I wasn't going to call him at all, and I believe that if I wouldn't have that he wouldn't have bothered to call me either. But, just wanting to see if he said anything about our 'plans' I call him. He asks if we're coming up. I tell him I guess we will if he's not going to be busy. He more or less says that we can come up whenever we want, that he can be home at any time. Then he adds that his wife has gone to see his daughter that's in prison, and that she won't be back until 3:30. That confuses me to no end. What does it matter if she is there or not? Does she have to be there every time we see each other? I was going to try to hurry and get ready so that I could visit with him without her for once. But, then my phone rings again. He says : let's just wait until the wife gets home and we can meet in town for dinner. Okay, I say. Still feeling a little unwanted, and questioning whether I will really go or not. He never makes any plans for us to do by ourselves. It seems like there always has to be a crowd around when we are together. I would have loved to have dinner with him by ourselves so that we can actually talk rather than fill that space with empty meaningless conversation that is edited for his wife's approval.

I'm not sure what it is. He had gotten in the habit before of handing me money ($100 or $200) every time we were together alone. I kept telling him not to do this, but he insisted, and I'll admit that I did take it because I needed it so badly. I'm wondering if he tries to keep her around when I'm with him, because she won't approve of him giving me any money, and he won't do it in front of her. I've told him that I don't want his money, and that I don't expect him to give me any. It fucking hurts, and I'm just rambling on and on.

I don't know what is going on with this relationship, but I'm very disappointed in the way it is turning out. I was very excited to get to meet my dad, and see what he is all about, but how can I do that when his wife is there every freakin' time diverting the conversation to something meaningless and stupid.

I'm crying as I'm writing this and I have no idea why. I just expected so much more. I just expected him to love me and want to spend time with me - by himself. To want to get to know me a little bit more than he does. We took a trip to Nashville, TN. one time together (with his granddaughter that slept in the back the whole time) and that was the best visit we've ever had together. He owns a trucking company, and we rode down there in one of his big trucks. I really enjoyed it. I liked being able to really talk to him, and just him. I felt like he wanted me to ride with him to get to know me better.

I feel like those days are over and now we spend our visits doing meaningless things that are just wasting our time together away.

I'm just so disappointed in this whole thing. Sometimes I feel like never calling him back, and I wonder if he would ever even call me if I didn't.

My heart aches.

Save Me

Dear Interwebs,

    Please help. I am being held hostage in an abandoned-looking gas station with a big chicken pasted on the front window. They are forcing me to handle lots and lots of other people's money while only paying me $6.55 an hour (thanks KY minimum wage laws). I'm also being forced to deep fry bologna sandwiches and hand out greasy chicken breasts. Some of you may giggle and say "Well, at least the chicken has breasts." but this, my friends, is no laughing matter. Please rescue me from this smoke-free hell that I'm living in.

Yours always,

Kat

When The Excuses Run Out...

This is my very first guest post here at The Atomic Mom, and I'm very happy that it came from one very lovely mutha. Thanks, Heather, for making me look so much better! You can find more of Heather at HeatherJacobson.com.

Heather Jacobson is the author of Desperately Seeking Sanity where she attempts to blog humorously about her life, faith, children and the boy.  She's a corporate career gal, a candle lady, youth group leader and softball coach.  Heather is the mother to Matthew, age 12 and Samara age 9 and the best spaghetti maker in the world to the boy's two children ages 6 and 4.  Heather thrives on the motto, "if it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done" and she's all about giving homemade gifts...which one of the kids would you like?

Being a single mother, to me, has never been a crutch.  Ok.  I need to rephrase that.  I try very hard not to make it a crutch.  The reality of it is, I am a single mother and with that come certain obstacles challenges.  And I?  Rise to a challenge.

Typically.

However, there are times when playing the single mom card is an absolute must.  For example, I'm all about making it known that I'm a single mom if there is any way possible for me to get a rate reduction.  The card is often played when I want favor granted my way.  I have no qualms letting people think that I might be struggling if it behooves me in a particular area, but as a general rule?  I like people to take note of my situation.  I want to lead by example.  I certainly don't want to be seen as a martyr, because I know that I am not the only person in this situation, however, there's a brief sense of self-gratification when, at the end of the day, I can sit back and look at what I've accomplished and say, "hey!  I did that.  All by myself!"

(We're not going to discuss my issue of refusing to ask for help today... that will have to be for another post... although, I can assure anyone who asks, I'm working on it.  I promise.)

However, I've found myself in a unique position.  I am currently dating the most wonderful man on the planet and for security purposes, we'll carryover his nickname from my blog to Katherine's and contie to call him the boy.  The boy is a single father and I don't mean single father as in the every other weekend kinda dad, either.  The boy is a bonafide single dad and has primary physical custody of his little ones, ages 6 and 4.

The boy and I had no choice but to incorporate the kids together early on.  If you're a single mom, and you're attempting to date, you know how difficult it is to schedule time to date, let alone the time to shave your legs or find something that doesn't scream "I'm a mother" to wear.

Can I get an Amen?

Thank you.

Yes, the boy and I fell into an odd relationship right away in that we began functioning as a married couple in every aspect except the sex part.  (Funny, I thought that whole "saving myself for marriage" was a GRAND idea when I wasn't dating and now?  Well, I think that's another post for another day too...lol)

Ahem, back to the boy and I functioning as a married couple.  We did.  After I got over the fact that he offered to keep my dog for me when I went out of town for a few days, but I already said that we weren't going to discuss my inability to ask for help.  If his kids needed to be somewhere and he was tied up at work, I would take them.  He did the same for me.  We often divide and conquer when it comes to the kids and I have no qualms about it now.  To most people who don't realize that we actually maintain separate households, we are a married couple.

Not a bad thing except...

Neither of us can use the "single parent" card anymore.  There again, neither of us used it often unless we had to, but when we want sympathy?  When we want a break?  We have a hard time playing that card to get it.

For example, his daughter has a shirt that says, "My Dad Did My Hair".  Poor child.  A crown of curls and he had not one iota of a clue as to what to do with it.  So now?  I fix her hair all up and he can't use that excuse anymore.  If I'm not around to do it, I've shown him many times what to do.

When football season rolls around, I'm not going to be able to ask the coaches to work with him a little more, or to spend more time with him because he lives with a bunch of girls.  The boy is now around and plays ball with him and his son in the back yard.

Yes, the excuses are gone.

Well, at least for being a single parent.  It didn't take long for us to find a new excuse to gain sympathy from those around us.  In fact, we're often seated first or pushed to the front of the line at times.

After all, we're not single parents anymore, but rather, parents of four ranging from 12 to 4.  At least one of them is always having a meltdown.  I began selling candles on the side and my sales pitch when I tell people why I started selling candles is that one day, I plan on marrying this man and join households...

Guess what? 

We don't have a house or a car that will hold all of us... and some how, when you mention that, coupled with the fact that you're 12 year old is tired of riding in the trunk, people tend to feel sorry for you.

Or at least I think they do.  Either that or they REALLY love all those candles they are buying...

Until next time...

Heather

 

Motherhood (in any form) Deserves a Celebration

When I was 20 years old and pregnant with my first child (and only one so far) I was told that I didn't deserve a baby shower, and that what I had done to get pregnant in no way deserved a celebration. It is true that I was young and unwed, and in a two year relationship with a boy that I probably should have never even met, but words like that are hard to hear for a scared young girl, especially coming from her mother.

It was for reasons such as those, among others, that I waited until I was almost 7 months pregnant to tell my mom, even though I lived with her during that time. During the second to last trimester of my pregnancy it was fall and winter, and I was able to wear big thick sweat-shirts in order to hide my tummy. I also spent most days trying to avoid my mother at all costs. The whole time my boyfriend's family said, "I can't believe your mom doesn't know," but she didn't, and I focused my entire being on keeping it that way. At what was supposed to be one of (if not the) most important times in my life I was busy hiding in my bedroom, bawling my eyes out, and working long hours to save money to move out, because I knew I would have to when I told my mom the news. Every fiber in my being and all the energy I had was put forth to keep my 'tragic' secret.

Then the day came. I have never felt such humiliation as when I told my mother I was pregnant. I believe the first word out of her mouth after me divulging my secret to her was "abortion." After I told her no that I wasn't doing that, and that it was too late anyway rage filled her veins and I was called anything from a slut to a whore, and the phrase that still hurts the most and makes me sick as it plays over in my head is, "you're just (insert boy's name here)'s little slut aren't you? That's all you are." These words scarred my heart, and still play over and over to this day. My beautiful son was then referred to as a "n*gger bastard," because his father's mother was African American, and I was told he would be an outcast to the entire family. Why would I want to do this to a child? Why why why? I can't repeat everything that was said, but you get the jist of it.

Needless to say, my family never gave me a baby shower, and actually I spent the last couple of months of my pregnancy hiding myself from society (at my mother's wishes demands). When shopping she would suggest that I go to the next town north so that no one I knew would see me. She wouldn't tell anyone that we knew. She didn't even tell the family.

While thinking about this period of my life, my heart swells with pain, and I'm wiping the tears from my face. I ache and yearn to have those 9 months back. I yearn to sit and rub my tummy and talk to my unborn child and play music for him, and I yearn to have protected him and myself from all those horrible words and that hell-on-earth that we lived in. It would mean so much to be able to enjoy the most important 9 months of my life as a woman rather than feel the humiliation and shame that was forced upon me.

One thing I remember very clearly is logging onto babycenter.com, and talking about my pregnancy in the forums. Every time mom would come near I would quickly shut down my browser for fear that she would look at me and see the bit of excitement twinkling in my eyes. That was not allowed, and would have only been shot down with a reminder that my "situation" was nothing to be proud of or excited about. I had heard this so much and it was beat into my head so hard that 75% of me believed it too by this point.

If I could go back I would do things differently. I would walk around proudly in public, without taking my mother's advice (or directions should I say) to not go into public in our town. I would buy beautiful maternity shirts instead of wearing over-sized sweats, and I would show off my bulging tummy rather than trying to suck it in and slouch over to hide it. I would enjoy my pregnancy and the changing of my body rather than being shameful. I would put together a beautiful nursery instead of throwing together the second hand things given to me at the last minute by my family who she didn't approve of my telling until around 2wks before my son's birth. Looking back I know that all of this was completely wrong, but who else did I have but my mother? Who does a young girl turn to in times like these? Her mother. So I acted on all of her suggestions, regardless of my better judgement.

Now, almost five years later, I know what it means to be a mother. Motherhood is not about marriage, although marriage is a beautiful thing. I've learned in my years as a single mother that marriage does not equal motherhood and motherhood doesn't equal marriage. Motherhood is about strength, endurance, soft smiles during 4am feedings, sweet kisses after bath time, reading Dr. Seuss over and over and over again. It's about time outs, and baseball games, and being "the meanest mommy in the world" every now and then. It's about hugs, and laughter, and chocolate covered faces. And, did I mention Dr. Seuss? That is a lesson that I wished I had learned 5 years ago. Another thing I wish I had known back then is that motherhood, in any form, deserves a celebration.

Happy Mother's Day!