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Dear Mom and Brandon
I am terribly sorry I made you mad. Its just that I don’t like that chore. Anyway I am probaly not going to argue next time but I still don’t like picking up dog poop. I hope you will at least get over what I did today and just remember I say this only once tomorrow is a new day just like heaven is and a new life. Oh and two more things use the money I give you for something you want or use it with other money and two solve this riddle so I at least don’t have to be yelled at.
riddle: what do you call a crazy man?
P.S. I will be in my room if you need me but take you time on this letter
Jacoby: Hello hello
Are you there mom
me: Hiya baby! I’m here!
Jacoby: Great your back where we huh
me: I am back. I’m glad you like chatting, it’s fun isn’t it?
Jacoby: Ha that was a joke
me: I know it was, funny boy.
Jacoby: Well it was momma
me: What’s your favorite color?
Jacoby: What are you talking about
me: I’m asking what your favorite color is, silly goose!
Jacoby: OK red
me: What your favorite song?
Jacoby: What honey pie
me: Ha, did Brandon tell you to call me that?
What’s your favorite song, prankster!
Jacoby: Jingle bell rock
me: What’s your favorite movie?
Jacoby: First brand ion did not tell me to call you that
And it is monty python and the holy grail
me: Ah, you’re clever then. 🙂
What’s your favorite book?
Jacoby: Diary of a wimpy kid 🙂
me: Do you want to talk about anything else?
Jacoby: What are all those questions for
me: Just trying to think of things to talk to you about.
Jacoby: One second dragons
Me: Uh, what?
Jacoby: Dragons for Pete sake
me: Of course, that makes perfect sense. ..Not.
Jacoby: What the heck are you talking about
me: You tell me, you’re the one writing gibberish about dragons!
Jacoby: It’s no gibberish ma’am
me: I love you sweet boy
Jacoby: I love you too
Of course, some things don’t change. Jack still won’t leave his sister alone, and Lo won’t stop changing her clothes.
But the heads are still able to tuck under my chin when I hug them, and the feet are still cute enough to photograph.
And I’m grateful the memories are captured.
It really is the happiest place on earth.
3:40 – I pick kids up from school.
3:41 – I take Lo to a friend’s while we drive downtown to get Brandon.
3:42 – Jack starts reading his book.
3:43 – 4:18 **crickets**
4:19 – Jack shuts his book.
4:19:03 – Jack says:
“Hey Mom did you know Cooper gave me a Pokemon card today? Cooper D___ from Cub Scouts? You know, Cooper D___ from school? He gave me one of his older ones but it’s still in pretty good condition. The card is Shivy, I think. I think it’s called Shivy, and it does 20 damage. They all have different names and powers and stuff. Here, Mom, see, if you look in the right corner you’ll what all you can do with it. And on the bottom, too, I think. I think I’m going to see if Brandon wants to get some cards and learn to play it with me; you and Lorelei can play it too if you want, but it’s OK if you don’t want because I know sometimes you ladies want to do other things than do what Brandon and I do, like play video games and stuff. I wonder how much these cards are more expensive than like, my mini figures and stuff. I should probably look on eBay to see how much they are because if they’re like, a dollar or something, I probably would save my tokens and spend them on Pokemon cards instead of video game time. I don’t think I’m going to play video games until like, Sunday, so I can read about Pokemon and how to play and how much the cards are and stuff. Do you think your friends’ kids want to have a playdate this weekend to play Pokemon? I bet if they’re older than me, like say 10, they probably would know more about Pokemon and how it works and the best cards to get. They probably could tell me how they got started and what cards are best and stuff. So you should probably call your friends and see if they want to play. Are they brothers or twins, these boys who play Pokemon? Do they have little sisters that might want to play with Lorelei, because I don’t think she will want to play Pokemon yet, I just don’t think she cares much about cards and stuff. Cooper gave this to me today at recess when we were done playing soccer. The teachers sometimes divide us up on to teams and we count off to make two teams and today Pedro Jose was on my team and he’s really good. I don’t think I want to play soccer again next year because I just like playing at recess but not for like, a real game and stuff. I wonder if it’s very expensive to get into Pokemon or if I’ll have to save up like I do for my Legos sometimes. I think maybe tonight when we’re done with dinner I should go on to the computer and check eBay to see how much the cards are to start so I know how many tokens to save. I think you can get these cards at Target and card shops and stuff, but I think we should see how much they cost first, but I bet Brandon will be excited to play with me because he likes this kind of thing I think. Right, Mom?”
4:23:05 – Jack takes a second breath.
4:23:07 – I smile.
4:23:08 – My head begins to pound a little behind my left eye.
(Blitzen Trapper – Furr)
So hi. I really don’t have anything clever to say. But yesterday was my birthday, and I feel compelled to at least attempt to note major milestones. Unfortunately there’s nothing really that interesting or funny to say about it (except for Jack’s declaration of happy firdy free, old lady Mom. And Lorelei’s singing Old McDonald had a farm. Jingle all the way! But that was all of, what, two sentences?). I was made yummo french toast and strawberries with homemade whipped cream, Jack started second grade, the weather was absolutely perfect, we went to Powell Gardens, and overall it was just a wonderful day.
The best birthday I’ve had in years, actually.
It’s been a pretty damn good summer overall, really.
I was very surprised to hear from you today. It’s been what…almost three years?
I gotta say I’m sorry you’re sorry to hear that I not only got a divorce but am now Living In Sin* with a guy (whose name is BRANDON, for future prayer record). I personally think both were good decisions for me, for myriad reasons, but I understand that you wouldn’t know all those reasons and would immediately be gravely concerned about me, because I’ve fallen so far from what Our Lord wants for me.
[*I’ve always been fascinated with this title. Aren’t we technically all living in sin by definition? Or is this one of those asterisked-code-red ones that gets more judgment than the usual sins, like homosexuality and pre-marital sex? They should put out a hierarchy handbook of this stuff, methinks.]
I’m also sincerely sorry that you are that worried about my soul. I actually think God is probably a helluva lot more understanding and wise than many people give him credit for, and would recognize that Jon and I were young, dumb kids when we got married at 22, and actually spent way more time thinking about our majors in college than we did knowing ourselves. Not to mention understanding such a tremendously weighty life decision. It’s too bad that you think I ruined the kids’ and Jon’s lives, and that you’ve lost respect for me. I’ve lost a lot of respect for people too, but I guess I don’t get a voice because I’m the one with the corrupted soul and evil, life ruining powers. Muahahahawhatever.
You’ll be relieved to know that I did, in fact, Think Of The Kids (and therapy – I even used it to facilitate the decision-making! I know, right? And she was a Christian, too!). I continue to Think Of The Kids in every decision I make. I’m moving back to Jack’s school district next month to ensure that after Jon sells the house, Jack is guaranteed to stay in the environment that has comforted and propelled him as far as he’s come. Rest assure that Thinking Of The Kids is something that is my top priority. This must be a common theme, though, my being a horrible mom, because the kids’ grandparents discussed in the beginning of the divorce the idea of taking me to court as an unfit mother. Damn Wellbutrin. It’s risky business during stressful times in your life.
I don’t know that everyone has the same goal in mind, though, that Thinking Of The Kids concept. Because despite having planned – and discussed with Jack – having one birthday party for next weekend, it’s since been decided that some people can’t be there if I’m there. (One guess who might have voiced that opinion.) Which is all well and fine for me personally, except for that minor detail of when Jack looks at me Saturday night and excitedly asks if I’m still coming to the party the rest of his world will be at the next day, his actual birthday. And I’ll say no to him. Though I don’t yet know what I’ll tell him the reason is. Because I’m too busy to make time? Because I don’t love him? The truth – that grandma and grandpa hate Mommy? I have no idea.
No really, I’m serious. I have 4 days before he asks me, and I truly don’t know what I’m going to say to him. But I have to take the bullet one way or the other, and making a kid think his mom doesn’t want to come to his birthday is not Thinking Of The Kids, as far as I’m concerned.
So what’s my point, old church acquaintance? It’s that your email was fucking ridiculous, all-around. It was hypocritical and ignorant and out of line ad infinitum. But unfortunately, it wasn’t new to me. You are in a growing line of people who not only feel entitled to my business, but in fact feel even more entitled to tell me what a rotten person I am, despite it being glaringly obvious that you don’t have all the info.
Thus, perhaps you could revive the game (and/or phone-tree) my old neighbors had, and add to the speculation of when I come and go, and what I am wearing. WEARING. BECAUSE APPARENTLY DIVORCE = PROSTITUTION. NO WONDER EVERYONE IS SO ANGRY AT ME. Or you can join my insurance guy who told me that he’d hold off on taking my name off Jon’s life insurance, because we all agreed that hopefully there can be a reconciliation (to which I blurted out we, who?). Or the countless people who fairly or not, decided they could no longer have a relationship with me, because of my choices. Of whom I respect that right, so long as you don’t leave anonymous passive/aggressive comments on my blog later on.
And then you can bite me.
Because what you won’t do is think that somehow you’re going to guilt me into following your template for morality. You’re not going to be the person who gets to punish me, and you’re not going to convince me that I shouldn’t be trying to admit and repair my mistakes, even if in doing so I have to put myself out there to be flayed as the fucking imperfect human that I am. I made a choice that despite being anathema to you, is one that I feel is actually best for myself and the kids, (and more than perhaps anyone, Jon) in the long run. I may be wrong, but I don’t believe I am, and in the end, it shouldn’t matter to you. Because regardless of the fact that virtually every single person who has said something stupidly cruel during this fishbowl-I-call-my-divorce was a professed ‘Christian’, what I won’t do is believe that God, whatever it/he/she may be, approves of your behavior – or more important the demographic you think you’re representing. Because what you’re saying to and about me is not kind-hearted or evangelical, it’s sanctimonious judgmental asshattery, and I’m so friggen OVER IT.
(Except I’m not, because I’m obviously pissed at the moment. But after this? OVER IT.)
So please take your ill-informed righteousness, and move on down the road. I am done justifying or explaining anything to anyone. I’m not the first person to get divorced, I’m not a bad mother, and most of all YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW ALL OF THE DETAILS I REALLY TRULY FOR REALZ PROMISE YOU.
But many thanks for reminding me why I left organized religion.
P.S. Before you can go there – I’m not defensive, I’m cynical. And pretty hurt. But I am not defensive.
P.P. S. I helped a baby come into the world yesterday. Doesn’t get more miraculous than that. Did you do that? Doubt it. 1 God Point = Jen