Ex #1 and I got to play Tooth Fairy for the first time, last night. It was interesting. First, daddy tried to get the tooth out from under the pillow.
It didn’t work.
My son, you can’t hardly see it, was gripping the plastic bag with his tooth in it with everything he had. I always assumed your hand relaxed as you slept.
I managed to get it out and, when I was showing daddy, Caiden rolled over, exposing his open hand. I set the bag with 4 quarters in his hand. He jerked, nearly falling off his bed and ended up all over the place. We jumped back in fear he would wake up. He didn’t.
I set the bag back on his bed and lay it near where he pillow was supposed to be. We snuck out of his room … and promptly bust up laughing. Daddy mentioned how now would be a bad time to watch Darkness Falls.
I love to tease him about that movie. He was watching it with me and at one point, he jumped and let out a “squeal.” He got startled, I understand. I’ve done the same thing. So, we went downstairs to start watching that movie (the Nanny had never seen it). We got a bit of the way through before daddy decided it was time to get going so he could pack his truck and get some sleep before leaving town for a month.
Unfortunately, we decided to (all three) have one last smoke before he left. We came up with some very elaborate plans on scaring the crap out of each other, laughing hard enough to hurt our sides. That’s when it dawned on me – I had changed my son’s alarm clock from waking up with the radio to waking up to the buzzer. We laughed hard enough to make us sick at the things that would happen when that buzzer went off at 7 a.m.
I declared that it served him (my son, Caiden) right and he deserved to be woken up that way because of all the times he’s woken me up before the sun. He wakes up and is instantly alert and ready for the day, no matter the hour. Kind of like I used to do before having children. The Nanny and I laughed hard and long at the image of my son being scared awake.
I’m quite sure there’s a special place in hell for mom’s who plan out ways to scare the death out of their children. In my mind, it was only fitting! How many times has he popped up around a corner when I thought he was sleeping, and scared the death right out of me? Or, woken me up before the sun, because he was up?
I went back and switched his alarm back to “radio” and climbed in bed, still chuckling. Only to be woken up at 2 a.m. by the same child. He woke up, found his money and was ready to go spend it. Um. No. Get back in bed. I tucked him in all nice and cozy and fell back asleep.
2.30 a.m, “Mom, I’m not tired.” “I am. Get your *#$& back to bed.” Taking him by the hand, I put him back in his bed and tried to kiss him. I nearly fell on top of him, I was so very asleep while doing this.
3:10 a.m., I wake to the sounds of not one but TWO little boys playing in the front room. Are you kidding me!? I go out there and take them by the hand to the kitchen.
“What time does it say?”
“There’s no zero in there. It’s 3:10. Brendan, what time is it?”
(I gave up on correcting them)
“Yeah. There’s four more hours before I have to get up and cook you breakfast. If you two get out of bed ONE more time, you’ll regret it for months.”
Put them both in bed, kiss their little foreheads (I try to do that even when I’m so angry I see red) and back to bed I go.
At 5 minutes after 7, I hear little feet and voices. I missed my alarm clock. I went out there, told (asked?) Jen to make them breakfast and plopped myself down, hoping and praying she was an angel and brought me coffee. She didn’t the first time but did the second. I could hear children (obviously still tired) fighting and whining about getting dressed and teeth brushed. I finally went in and, ever so politely, reminded them that they had woken me up at 3 a.m. If they were tired and didn’t want to get dressed for school, it’s their own fault and I didn’t want to hear another word. “Sit up in the chair, eat your breakfast and leave this house as quietly as you can. You won’t like it if you don’t.”
I don’t think I should be punished for thinking about doing something – like scaring the child… deliberately. I didn’t actually do it. However, doesn’t the Bible talk about intent being just as bad as the deed. I guess I deserved it. I will say, the first time he (Caiden) sleeps in (as a teenager), I am using a glass of cold water to get him up.
On a side note, after waiting since June 27th, I finally heard back from ex #2’s attorney. Cash payment to him (ex #2) for 50% of all former business possessions in my possession and I have to pay 100% of the bills.
Can’t get blood from a stone. Not sure how to respond. I’ve no money to my name. I can’t pay anyone anything. Right now, I’ve no meat in the house at all. One frozen tub of my spaghetti sauce and one of frozen my chicken noodle soup. Both need a little more meat added before I can serve for dinner. They are the leftovers from a former dinner. Ex #1 took a pay cut, which means he doesn’t have as much to give to us and I’ve no outside work at all. I’ll pro’lly do “breakfast for dinner” tonight, since I’ve still a dozen eggs. I’m not whining. I’ll get through – I always do. I’m just saying, quite frankly, “he ain’t gettin anything – because I ain’t got nothin.”
I just got the Rendezvous back. Another $1500 spent. At some point, one has to give up. However, I can’t. I have to keep that car going until it’s finally paid off in December. Then, I’m going to buy the sledgehammer and give one to the mechanic. We’re going to beat that car to a bloody pulp and then I’ll get paid $500 or so by a junk yard to come collect it. I hope they still do that with junk cars – pay you $500 for them!
I’ve hinted and talked along the edges of what happened. I’m not allowed to speak too much until the divorce is finally over with. But this letter I got just takes the cake. The nerve. The audacity to declare that’s what I have to do to finally be rid of him. At one point, back in June, he even declared he should get my vehicle: Rendy. I bought (before him), I paid for (except for one payment in January of this year) and he helped with one set of repairs in Nov of last year. He thought he deserved it because of that. The sheer gall in making those demands yesterday just … set my teeth on edge. I’m itching to open my mouth and shout to the world everything that’s gone on – and still I work hard every day to keep my mouth shut.
P.S., He makes 4 times what I do, every month. No real personal bills of his own – except for medical and rent. No car payment. Nothing. No children. Nothing.
Time to log off and do something else, before I *do* go off.
Thank you for listening,