To say that I am mad, furious, angry, upset, or livid right now would be such a gross understatement. I am so engraged right now that my hands are shaking to the point where it's hard to even type.
Angel sent me an e-Mail saying that she had a proposition for me, that I should call her. Curious, I sent her a text message asking what was up. What followed makes me so fucking furious I can barely speak coherently.
She asked me to convince Bryan to give up ALL of his parental rights to the kids. She tried to tell me that it would be better since we could concentrate on us, devote all our time to Pook, and it would save us money, how the kids more or less hate me, and how he's a horrible father anyway, and he listens to me, so why don't I just put a bug in his ear?
I have several issues with her request. Number one, you do NOT drag my child into this unless you want to suffer a horrible death. You want to drag our innocent child into this mess? Sweety pie, you're going to open Pandoras box. You fuck with my child you fuck with me and trust me, when my temper flares up, Satan himself hides from me. Don't try to tell me how to parent MY DAUGHTER, and don't try to tell me how Bryan should parent OUR DAUGHTER. Don't try to tell me what she does and does not deserve. If you mention my child again, I swear to everything I hold dear you'll be eating from a straw for the rest of your miserable existence.
Secondly, my relationship with Bryan is none of her damn business. Have we hit a rough patch? Sure we have. Like all couples. But we're working through it, and I sincerely believe we will come out stronger for it. Unless and until our relationship starts damaging the kids in some way butt out of it.
Seriously? You're seriously trying to play the money angle with this? Let me tell you something, Twat Face, it wouldn't matter if he paid $6,000 a month in child support and we were eating ramen noodles every night. He will never, never, EVER give up his kids. Would it save us money? I'm sure it would. But those kids are worth every single fucking penny he/we spend on them, and more. Unlike you, Twat Face, we don't put a price on the love we have for them.
The kids DO NOT hate me. Oh, they say I'm mean do they? To be honest, in the beginning, I was overly harsh with them. I was 21 years old, had never dealt with kids before, and I was dealing with two kids who were CONVINCED (thanks to you) that I was here to replace their Mother. Over time, with just plain ole trial and error, guidance from Bryan, and listening & observing the kids, I've gotten MUCH better. I've learned that Bubs is a very sensitive little boy, and that he needs to be parented accordingly. I've learned that T is high spirited, and needs to be handled WORLDS differently than her brother. I've made mistakes but I've admitted to them and learned from them.
Twat Face, you seem to think that Bryan is the worlds worst father. Namely, because he missed a few of T's softball games. But let's examine the facts, shall we? He asked you repeatedly for a game schedule so we could be there. You only told him that she had games on Saturday. When, in reality, she actually played two games a week. But again, something you failed to mention. We still don't have a softball schedule. Oh, he doesn't stay home with them when they're sick? Well, golly, Twat Face, it'd be nice if you'd tell us WHEN THEY'RE SICK. The phone calls at 1800 hours of "Bubs was sick today and I stayed home with him, by the way." is crap. How the hell do you expect him to stay home with them if you don't tell him? I know, I know it's a novel concept.
Speaking of model parenting, let's examine you for a moment. No, no, Twat Face, despite what you think, you're not without blame here. Remember a few years ago? I know most of it is a drunken blur, and that is what I'm pointing out. You wanted absolutely nothing to do with YOUR KIDS unless it was a holiday when you could dress them up and show them off and Oh, aren't you just the perfect little (well, not anymore you're not little) Super Single Mom?! All you did was drink and party. Now, to your credit, you don't do that as much anymore. But again for the first part of their lives all you did was drink and left Bryan to deal with and raise your kids. Great parenting. I mean, honestly, you should write a book. I know!! You could call it, "What To Do If You Want To Scar Your Kids For Life...By Twat Face" Has a nice ring to it, don't it?
Furthermore, you bitch, if you have an issue with Bryans parenting, you need to bring it up with him. Not me. Texting me and sending me e-Mails behind his back is beyond chickenshit. Trying to recruit me into your bullshit plan is beyond stupid. Did you honestly think I'd go along with this? Did you really think I'd not tell Bryan?! How stupid are you? You're either A) incredibly stupid, B) incredibly drunk, C) incredibly high, or D) all of the above.
Lastly, Twat Face, don't ever try to tell me you love your kids again. If you truly loved them, you would not take them away from the father they absolutely ADORE and love. There's a damn good reason every time they see him they run up to him as fast as they can and give him bear hugs. Because they LOVE him. He is NOT a bad parent. He's not the perfect parent, but then again neither am I, and you're the furthest from perfect I've ever seen. You're right up there with my mother, which is scary to say the least. If you loved your kids even one iota, you'd never even think to take those kids away from him. And frankly, taking away those kids would kill Bryan. Literally. He loves all three of his kids with everything he has, and so do I.
If it weren't for the fact that it's illegal, and it would crush the kids, I swear to God I'd have no problems bitch slapping your pockmarked face until you finally got it. If you were laying in the gutter on fire, I wouldn't piss on you to save your life. I'd probably take a nice, healthy dump in your mouth. I hate you that much. You've enraged me to a point I've never been at before. You screwed with my kid. You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Twat Face.
Devil Woman reared her ugly head again. Once again, she’s fighting Bryan on taxes this year. But now she’s added a new twist, and changed her story.
Now she’s claiming that she didn’t have any taxes taken out this year, and she owes the IRS money. She wants half of Bryans tax return. Because, y’know, “You had Pook this year so you should befine.” She’s also claiming that T had to have a couple grand worth of dental work done, and the bill is past due, and she might need braces, and she needs money for that, too.
Every company in the US, if you don’t tell them to make changes to your deductions, they take the same deductions as they did the previous year. With that in mind, Devil Woman would’ve had to tell them to not take out any taxes last year. She shouldn’t be surprised that Uncle Sam wants his slice of the pie, but she is. Secondly, even if it was a payroll error and she didn’t tell them to make changes I have a hard time swallowing that she didn’t look at her pay stubs for a full year, or notice her paycheck was larger than usual. My paycheck is the same every time, and I still look at it. Even if it was $50 larger, I’d wonder why. But that’s just me.
Earlier on my blog I said that the tax return money was to be used to emergencies for the kids. I was wrong, it can be used however they see fit. Devil Woman, however, told Bryan, “Well that money is supposed to be for the kids, what have you been doing with yours?!” Bryan fired back with, “Read the divorce decree again, Devil Woman. We can use the money however we want. And besides, if that was the case, what happened to yours?!” To say that little comment made her irritated is like saying Hell is just one big sauna. (BTW, we’re using our tax returns on a new place, so we really need that cash.)
Pook is none of her business, and if she brings her up again, I’m gonna personally shove her attitude up her mammoth-sized arse.
T had dental work done? This is news to us. How odd, since T herself never mentioned it and that kid will give you a running commentary on her life if you let her. Secondly, why wasn’t Bryan informed of the bill, oh I don’t know, when it came two months ago?! And T needs braces now, eh? Gosh, that’s weird…That kid has perfect teeth. Bryan told Devil Woman he’d want to talk to the dentist first, to confirm what she’s saying, and Devil Woman came unglued. “Do you think I’m making this up?” Well, um, yeah, we kinda do. Sorry, toots, but you’re kinda known for making stuff up to get money, so yeah…
Needless to say, Bryan was fuming over all of this. She’s in debt and she can’t get herself out, and wants him to bail her out. Newsflash, Devil Woman, we’re notcongress, and we’re not approving a bail out plan for you. Every time the kids need something, he hands you money. He never asks what you’ve spent your child support on, he already knows the answer: you spent it on yourself.
Like you always did, and continue to do. You’ve got the perfect setup, don’t you? You get your child support payment every month, which never goes for the kids anyway, and whenever the kids need something, you know you can call him up and he’ll pony up the cash. Because what are his options? If he says no, you’ll let the kids go without. If he says yes, he’s just enabling you but the kids have what they need. He’s tried to tell you that for unexpected major expenses, he doesn’t have a problem paying half. But everyday stuff, like school supplies, new shoes, things like that you need to use the five hundred in child support. Besides, Devil Woman, you make more money a month that the both of us do combined, and yet you still need money. I guess sleeping with the boss has its advantages. How’shis wife, by the way? Still married to him? How ‘bout that.
The sad part about all this is I know many women who do the exact same thing. They spend the child support on themselves and then call their exes for money. Now, I’m not saying that Bryan shouldn’t pay child support, nor does he have problems paying it. And if she truly needed more money a month in support, why hasn’t she gone through the courts? Isn’t that what they’re there for? Now granted, I’ve never had to file for child support, so I don’t know the inner workings. And I personally feel that parents who fail to pay child support should be tarred & feathered.
However, in this case, verily I say unto thee, Devil Woman: go to Hades.
We had the kiddies this weekend. What a treat! B's football is over, so hopefully we'll be back onto our regular schedule. We got them Friday night after they had ingested wayyy too much sugar from trick or treating, but on the other hand...Once they crashed, they crashed. Sunday, I was getting ready to go to the inlaws for the day, and this little scene played out. Bryan=B1, Bubs=B2, T=T.
T= HEIDI!!!
M: What?! Ohmygosh, are you hurt? (Frantically tying my bathrobe around my fresh-out-of-the-shower self)
[Both kids come barrelling into the bedroom.]
T: He spit on me!!! [B2 is slowly inching his way to the door. T is holding up a freshly spit upon lock of hair.]
M: AH! Don't you leave this room. Did you spit on your sister.
B2: I don't know. [I notice he will look everywhere but at me.]
M: One more time, did you spit on her?
B2: Um, yeah. [lots of mental eye rolling]
M: Let's go, both of you.
[March them both downstairs to the kitchen, where B1 is standing. Curious look as to why I am coralling 2 kids in my bathrobe.]
B1: What in the world...? What's going on?
M: Tell your Dad what you did.
B2: I, um, well, I spit on T.
[T tugs at hair for dramatic emphasis.]
B1: Why did you do that?
B2: I don't know...[voice is starting to waiver, and I can practically hear the waterworks preparing to waterfall onto his cheeks.]
B1: You don't know? What happened that made you spit on your sister?
B2: I don't know...I just did....
B1: So you just randomly spit on her? Really? Okay, let me get the story from her, then.
T: Well, now, see, you need to understand-
B1: I don't want the five year story, T. I want the short, condensed 5 minute version.
T: We were playing, he fell off the couch into the blanket, I pushed him, and he spit on me.
B1: [looking at B2] Is that what happened?
B2: Well, she had the blanket over my head, really.
B1: How is it you spit through the blanket?
B2: I just did. [sigh...]
B1: You, [pointing at son] you do NOT spit on your sister, no matter what, do you hear me? [T makes the "You're in trouble and I'm not face] And you! [points to T] you do NOT put the blanket over his head! He could have suffocated! It is very dangerous! Do you both understand?
[solemn head nodding and apologies to one another.]
Now, me personally, I would'nt have handled it quite like that. B2 would've gotten a swat on the patoot for spitting, and T would've gotten a swat on the patoot for teasing her brother while punishments were doled out. But, then, that's how I was raised. Bryan says the punishment wouldn't have fit the crime. I disagree, but then again, they're not my kids.
What would you have done? Do you agree with either of our ideas on punishment? Ideas, thoughts, suggestions? Let's hear 'em!
So we had the kiddos this weekend. We haven't had them in a while because Bubs is playing in a junior football league and he has games and practice all the time. He doesn't really like to play, but that's a whole 'nother post in and of itself. I digress.
It had kinda rained over the weekend and the kids wanted, no NEEDED, to go outside and play. They'd been cooped up all day Saturday playing the new Lego game on the new PS2 Bryan got for his birthday. But after hearing them argue amongst themselves about who's turn it is, I got them bundled up and shooed them outside.
Roughly 30 minutes later, they come in through the back door yelling, "HEIDI! DADDY!" And since we've been trying to get them not to yell in the house, Bryan yelled back "GUYS! What have I told you about not yelling in the house? You need to talk to me? Then come over here!" (Aside from the irony of yelling at them not to yell....) They tramped through the house, both of them, to us in the living room. To tell us, "Our shoes are muddy." Which they were. Covered in mud. Which was now throughout the house. Sigh....
Right lesson. Wrong time.
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