Archive for May, 2007

Thursday Thirteen #2

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Thirteen Things (yes, really 13 this time) to see on the way to South Dakota:

1. Corn - lots of it.

2. Wheat - not as much as corn, but still lots of it.

3. Roadkill - of all kinds, really — raccoons, birds, snakes, deer, foxes — pretty gross.

4. Big Turkeys - See my Roadtrip - Day 1 post for further explanation.

5. The Fort Cody Trading Post - “Nebraska’s Largest Souvenir and Western Gift Store.” With prices to prove it.

6. The Great Platte River Road Archway Monument - We haven’t stopped at it yet, but every time we drive under it the kids beg to go check it out. Maybe the next go ’round.

7. The Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles - You can see the tanks and helicopters from the road as you drive by. Another one that the kids really want to stop and see. Maybe next time we’ll take an extra day just to stop at all of these attractions.

8. The Corn Palace Billboard - We drive by it every time we go to South Dakota and I say, “I really want to go there.” Every time I say that, hubby rolls his eyes, reminds me that it’s all the way in Mitchell, and says, “It’s totally cheesy.” What can I say? I like cheese sometimes.

9. Tons of these:


compact_rv_sm.jpg

All I can say is that if I were renting one, I wouldn’t want one with the “This is obviously a rented RV” emblems all over it.

10. The Brass Armadillo - a must if you’re an antique lover, or just a “junker”. It’s so much fun to search for treasure.

11. images.jpg Lots of these, too. Evidently it’s that time of year.

12. A sign that says “Watch for wind on overpass.” Hmmm… exactly how do we “watch” for wind? Perhaps, “Caution: strong wind possible on overpass” would be better.

13. A big glass building up on the hill off of I-80 in Omaha - I don’t know what it is, but we comment on it every time we drive by it. It’s beautiful, completely see-through, doesn’t look like it has floors in it from the road. If you know what it is, please, please let me know.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Roadtrip - Day 2

Saturday

12:00 am - My eyeballs are burning, but Bingo is my friend. I’m up $120 on the night and we’ve done a lot of laughing. However, I’ve been up since 4 am yesterday and I’m pretty faded. All of the numbers on all 18 of my bingo boards are running together and I can’t figure out if we’re doing the “Any Way T,” the “Kite” or “GO Bingo”. I’ve given up on the neon orange dauber and moved on to the dark purple. It’s a little easier on the eyes.

7:30 am - Are the kids really up? Yep. We’re sleeping in the basement and we hear every little bump from upstairs. Considering that there are 13 people staying in the house, 9 under the age of 20, I shouldn’t be surprised that we hear them already. But oh, I’m so tired.

8:00 am - Schwan’s breakfast pizza - if you haven’t tried them, you need to.

8:30 am - Dressed and showered (not in that order), but still not very awake. Half of the kids are already on round 4 of the Playstation 2 and the other half have been jumping on the trampoline since 7:32.

9:00 am - Hubby and brother-in-law are putting up two awnings outside. It’s a pretty funny sight, so we’re video-taping the endeavor.

10:00 am - Moving on to the fixin’s for the High School Graduate’s Open House. I think my sister-in-law bought enough food to feed five thousand. We have way more than five loaves and two fishes, let me tell you. Her mother-in-law brought over at least 10,000 cookies and bars. We’re madly trying to get everything trayed and ready to go before 1pm rolls around. We’re in charge of refilling all things empty.

12:30 pm - Napkins, plates and plastic forks don’t work so well with wind. The board with pictures of the nephew and his friends is really cute. My favorite picture is the one of him as a little guy, with a piece of bologna in front of face, three little holes eaten out of it, two eyes and a mouth. Very cute! He’s earned lots of awards over the years and he’s been a hockey maniac. The memorabilia weighs down the table. It’s a nice tribute. He deserves it. He’s a good kid.

2:00 pm - Folks are filtering through. Youngest daughter has already downed six Scotch-a-roos (a special kind of Rice Krispy Treat — heavenly, by the way — I’ll publish the recipe at a later date) and she wants to know if she can have another. She’s also eaten a sandwich, several potato chips, some pasta salad, nacho-cheese Doritos, and two chocolate chip cookies. I swear she has the metabolism of a long-distance runner. She can pack away the food like nobody I’ve ever seen and she’s such a skinny-minny. I wish I had that problem! I decide that six Scotch-a-roos is probably plenty, particularly when they’ve been consumed in quick succession and she’s been jumping on the trampoline. I’m having a flashback to the nice little stop in Kearney, NE. I tell her she really needs to wait an hour before she has anymore.

3:00 pm - It’s been an hour and the child has evidently watched the clock like a hawk. “Now?” she asks. “Go for it,” I tell her. It’s vacation. What the heck?

3:30 pm - Hubby and I play a very competitive game of Ladder Golf. He wins, of course. I’m amazed that no windows get broken during this little endeavor.

5:30 pm - Nephew opens all of his many gifts. My favorite is the pop-up hamper filled with packages of ramen noodles, cereal, soap, toothpaste, and fabric softener. Very thoughtful. I’ll have to remember that the next time we attend a graduation. He makes out like a bandit. I’m trying to remember if graduation was this profitable when I was his age.

7:00 pm - My eyelids are drooping something severe. I’m exhausted. It’s a good exhausted, though. I drink one more Diet Coke in the hopes that I will have enough energy to make it through until nine without falling into a dead sleep. I have a fear that I will fall asleep and drool or snore and, believe you me, with hubby’s family, I will never hear the end of it.

9:00 pm - I can take no more. Jammies are on, teeth are brushed. The kids can stay up until midnight if they want to, but this cat’s headed for bed.

Roadtrip - Day 1

Sorry that I have been out of touch for the past few days. My husband’s nephew (my nephew-in-law? nephew by marriage? heck, just my nephew) graduated from high school this past weekend. We got his invitation a month or so back and decided that we would pack up the family in the van and make the 10-hour trek to wild, wonderful South Dakota. Traveling with our family is always an adventure–no matter where we’re going or how long the trip may be. Here’s a bit from our little trip diary, Day 1:

Friday

4:30 am - The kids get excited because we pack the night before and get up at the crack of dawn to head out. I’m not sure why they’re excited about this deal, because I personally think it stinks, but that’s the way hubby wants it and somehow they find it exciting to get to ride in the van in jammies. We didn’t quite make it out the door by 4:00 am like hubby wanted to, but we are backing out of the driveway and heading for Nebraska at high speed by 4:30. All of the kids are asleep in the backseat. Even the draw of the dozen hand-selected donuts we bought last night isn’t enough to overpower their heavy eyelids at this hour. The sunrise is incredible. I’m tired, but it was worth getting up at this hour just to see it. I always love the very beginning of a roadtrip. It feels exciting.  It’s a new adventure.

6:30 am - Donut desire has overtaken them all. Someone ate a donut picked out specifically by someone else, although no one will ‘fess up, and I thought for a minute that we would have a fight on our hands, especially since they’re all operating on very little sleep. An extra chocolate-frosted Devil’s Food donut saved the day. Blasted wind will NOT stop blowing. The van is rocking so much as we’re driving that it feels like we’re on a ship and I might need to get my land legs back when we stop.

8:30 am - The youngest is a tad green around the gills. The wind is still blowing and his stomach hurts. I’m regretting the decision to let him eat the donut with red, white and blue sprinkles. We hook him up with a plastic bag… just in case.

9:00 am - We have had to make a stop in lovely Kearney, NE because the youngest forgot that the had the plastic bag. The red, white and blue sprinkles, along with the rest of the glazed-raised, are all over him, the seat, the suitcase beside him and the floor. The prospect of driving another 6.5 hours with THAT is not appealing to me. Hubby and I take turns cleaning (without breathing) while trying not to gag. Hubby works on getting new clothes onto the youngest while I clean up the seat, suitcase, and floor. The joys of parenthood…

9:30 am - We have lost a 1/2 hour to the cleaning of the most amazing yuckiness I have seen in a long time. I don’t like glazed-raised donuts when they’re going in; I like them sooooo much less when they’re coming out. I think I’m ruined for sprinkles forever. We are now armed with 25 garbage bags, purchased for the low, low price of $6.75 at the convenience store. The youngest has clean clothes and we have threatened him with immediate death if he can’t figure out how to use the plastic bag next time. He’s almost eight and absolutely capable of aiming his mouth toward the opening of a tall kitchen garbage bag, should the need to get rid of the contents of his stomach overcome him again…. darnit.

9:45 am - Hubby sees a wild turkey in the field off to the right. He is listening to the iPod, so his sense of volume is a tad bit off. He throws his arm in front of my face, pointing out the window like a madman, and screams at the top of his lungs, “BIG TURKEY!!!!” I’m pretty sure I just banged the top of my head on the roof of the van and my heart is beating a million miles an hour. I thought someone was dying… it’s just a turkey…. darnit.  We discuss the hazards of carrying on conversation whilst listening to an iPod.  He could have poked my eye out… our burst an eardrum… :)

12:30 pm - Omaha! Woo hoo!  We’re over halfway there now. We stop at The Brass Armadillo to look around. Antiques are one of hubby’s weaknesses, so this is a regularly scheduled event when we make this drive. We wander the aisles for an hour, stretching our legs, laughing at the prices and searching for treasure. We find a set of Spiderwick books for cheap and a pair of tennies for the eldest daughter. Awesome because the child has grown from a size 3 girls at the beginning of the school year to a size 7 1/2 women’s now. We’ve already spent a small fortune on shoes for her and these are cute. They’re an 8, brand new, room to grow and they’re only 3 bucks. Even better, she really likes them.

2:30 pm - Back to the van with the books and shoes we go. We settle in for the last stretch of the drive.

3:00 PM - We decide to play I Spy. We spy all sorts of white, green, brown, yellow and red things. We discuss the fairness of spying something for a second that passes outside of your, and more importantly everyone else’s, field of vision. We laugh at some of the things we spy — red fenders, green trees, brown road signs, green road signs, white lines on the road, fluffy clouds that look like horses, roadkill…. ewww.

3:30 PM - We change the game to something else. One person thinks of something and the rest of us have to ask questions about that something until someone guesses what it is. Hubby goes first. He says, “I’m thinking of something big…. and round…..” From the backseat, the eldest daughter’s voice yells, “YOUR BUTT!” All of us, except hubby, dissolve into gales of laughter.

3:45 PM - I’m still laughing and hubby is getting truly annoyed. My stomach hurts now, I’ve been laughing so hard. The fact that I’m still laughing is causing everyone else to laugh, too. I think they’ve long since stopped laughing about the “butt” comment, and they’re now just laughing at me because tears are pouring down my face and I can barely breathe. Laughing is good medicine, unless it’s your own, personal butt that your daughter thinks of when you describe something big and round. Ha ha ha!!!!

4:30 PM - We hear the first “Are we almost there yet?” These kids are truly great travelers.

5:00 PM - We are finally “there yet”. We pile out of the van and run for the door. We have lots to do this weekend–clothes to wash, stories to share, hugs to exchange, growing up to celebrate, and, most importantly… Girls’ Night at Bingo!

It’s good to be here.

Thursday Thirteen

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Thirteen Things about STEPHANIE

1. My least favorite job in college was waiting tables at a Japanese Steakhouse

2. I am addicted to Dancing With the Stars

3. I am also addicted to America’s Got Talent (I know, it’s a sickness)

4. I love the smell of creosote bushes because they smell like it has just rained

5. My favorite Southern foods are grits and fried okra

6. I used to live in Texas and can’t shake the need to say “y’all” when referring to a group of more than one person

7. I met my husband for the first time when I was fourteen years old

8. I stink at Progressive Rummy and air hockey, but love to play them both

9. My left eye is so bad that the eye doctor wondered, at my last visit, whether I could see out of it at all (the answer is yes, I can)

10. I had all of the tendons in my left foot severed in a car accident and cannot, under any circumstances, wear heels anymore (sad because the new summer wedge heels are sooooo cute)

****Edited post-publication due to author’s failure to count… Ha ha!!! It’s been such a week, can you tell? I did totally leave three things out… fired!

11. I have brown eyes, but have always wished they were blue.

12. My favorite flowers are Birds of Paradise - my husband knows this and indulges me on it at least twice a year.

13. My biggest pet peeve in life is the phrase “moot point” - I don’t know why it bugs so much, but it does.

There’s the other three. I apologize to all o’ y’all who thought momentarily that I could no longer count! ****

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

You Can’t Take It With You

What is the world coming to when the morning news program has to run a segment about what you, as a guest, are able to remove from a hotel?

As they dive into the segment, they address the crazy things people have removed from hotel rooms—pictures, alarm clocks, silverware, towels, washcloths, irons, and even a complete marble fireplace. Said fireplace was evidently removed, piece by piece, in a “really big suitcase.”

One hotel owner described a couple that paid for a hotel room that opened to the exterior of the hotel so that they could park their U-Haul “within view” of their room. The couple proceeded to back up the U-Haul to the door of the hotel room and empty absolutely everything into the U-Haul… even the carpet. Yet another owner described a gentleman that was starting a catering business. Every time he would have a meal at the hotel, he would steal one piece of silverware. By the time he was finished, he had place settings for 60. Unbelievable!


My initial reaction was that these individual stories don’t seem to add up to much except sensationalism, right? They represent a few scattered incidents here and there, a few thieves in the mix, a microchosm if you will. Imagine my surprise when the piece went on to explain that hotels are experiencing this kind of theft to the tune of $100 million per year! People really are taking everything that’s not nailed down. No wonder rates are skyrocketing.

It’s so bad that there is an entire industry devoted to different kinds of anti-theft hangers and a patent issued for an anti-theft iron and ironing board. It’s so bad that hotels actually ARE nailing everything down—pictures, remote control devices for the TV, the TV, the furniture. What they can’t nail down, they are changing to make the items less theft-friendly. Robes that used to be lightweight are now heavy and bulky. Bath towels that used to be small are now bath sheets, not as easy to fit into the old suitcase. Hotels are even offering to sell the items folks are pilfering, in hopes that an honest opportunity to purchase will win out over greedy entitlement.

You would think this kind of thing would be common sense. Do folks automatically feel entitled just because they paid $60 a night? Did they not attend kindergarten and learn that you don’t take something that doesn’t belong to you? I traveled extensively for several years and felt guilty even taking the soap and shampoo, although I knew full well that they would discard the unused portion if I didn’t take it.

For anyone out there that might be confused about what you can and cannot remove from a hotel room, here’s a short list of things that hotels do expect you to take with you:

Soap.

Shampoo.

Shower gel.

Shower cap.

Sewing kit.

Stationery.

Shoe Shine Kits.

Slippers.

Outside of that, buy your own stinkin’ washcloths and towels! Buy your own remote (hint: the one from the hotel doesn’t work with your TV anyway, genius), decorate with your own art, buy your own bedspread (doesn’t the thought of using the one from the hotel just gross you out?), pick up a cheap hairdryer at Wal-Mart and grab an iron, too, while you’re there. Stop thinking you’re entitled to take anything that doesn’t belong to you and stop making the rest of us, by way of rising hotel rates, pay for your matching towel set.

Got it? Good.

He Said, She Said

He said:
************
You called this morning and requested that I pick the kids up from school today and keep them overnight. You also stated that it was stupid to drop them off next Tuesday just so that you could drop them off at school on Wednesday and suggested that I keep them overnight that night as well. I am happy to do that. I will plan to drop them off to you next on Sunday, June 3rd at 6pm at (drop-off location).

Please let me know that you have signed the appropriate financial responsibility paperwork with (summer daycare provider).

She said:
*************
To clarify - (daughter’s name) called you this morning and asked if you could pick her up because she didnt want to go to (current daycare provider) today. I told her that she was able to do that but at no point did I ask you to keep the kids tonight or next tuesday.
When we spoke, you said that you’d like to see the kids after school but it meant that they would need to spend the night because you werent able to drop them off later.

(Editor’s note: I happened to be on the other extension, so I can assure you this is not what was said. Crazy loon specifically asked him to keep the kids tonight.)

I also asked if you realized that they would only be home 1 night(tuesday) and then back to you on wednesday because that week is your weekend as well. I also asked how you felt about that because you were concerned that they were being bounced around to much and asked for your opinion and how you wanted to handle things.YOU asked to keep the kids tonight and YOU asked to take them next week to. I agreed for the sake of working with YOU.

Please dont make this seem like I’m pawning the kids off because that isnt what happened.

I wont be available to pick up the financial stuff from (summer daycare provider) until thursday morning. I’ll have it done before you get back.

He said:
************
This is insane. You did ask me to keep the kids tonight, when you got on the phone after (daughter’s name) called. You also asked me to keep them next Tuesday night after saying that it would be stupid for me to drop them off Tuesday night and you to drop them back off Wednesday morning. You stated that it would be too much bouncing around for them. You even clarified that you would pick them up next on June 3rd.

If you want to change your story now and bounce them around, that’s fine, but this will be the last time we do this. I told you that I wouldn’t pick them up on Tuesdays just to save you daycare because the block schedule has been put in place for a reason. Bouncing them around between your house and mine is not in their best interests. If you want me to pick them up from school on Tuesdays in the future, I will do it only if they stay the night. That way the block remains intact.

Let me know what time you’ll pick them up tonight. You can pick them up from the house. We should be back next Tuesday night by 8pm, so I’ll just plan to drop them off to you then at (drop-off location).

She said:
*************
you arent understanding. you will keep the kids tonight and I will pick them up on june 3rd as we agreed at 6:00 pm

Please dont email me again unless you you choose not to keep the kids and then I’d be happy to come and get them

I said:
*********
She’s loony… as loony as they come.

Letter to her Mother

I was surprised to get your call, I must say. More surprised to hear your voice crack on the other end of the line, like you might be near tears. It was a pretty good performance, really. You actually had me believing for a short moment that you might truly care about the relationship between your daughter and her daddy. You sounded almost genuine when you said you were broken hearted over the fact that they weren’t speaking. Was there anything I could do? Did I have any ideas?

Yeah, I had a lot of ideas, but I didn’t share them on the phone. I will share them now. First let’s take a little walk down memory lane.

Do you remember when she was ten and I first came into her life? I do. I remember how hard we all worked to get along with each other for her sake. I remember us having several conversations about how difficult things had been for her. I remember committing to making things better. I remember you saying that her relationship with her dad was really important to you and things just hadn’t been working toward that end for the past several years, mostly because her stepmom for the five years prior treated her like a second-class citizen. You were so glad that I was there now, that she and I got along, that her Dad’s and my relationship was healthy. It seemed like we were off to a good start.

I remember that her “visitation” schedule was every other weekend… four days a month. We tried hard to put our whole lives on pause for those four days, knowing that was all we got. At first you seemed like you wanted to be flexible, but every time her Dad asked to be involved a little more, you put your foot down. Soon we moved into slumber parties, school events, cheerleading and every other thing you could think of to interrupt those four days he had with her. You scheduled all of that without his input, most often without even letting him know these things were happening, then had your daughter call and act put out if he didn’t absolutely agree that whatever you had planned was more important than her time with him. You called when you had family in town, friends in town, plane tickets to fly off to somewhere, something else to do, something you had paid for. After awhile he got frustrated. You told your daughter you would “step in for her and call” so her Dad wouldn’t “yell” at her.

Things got more interesting when she became a teenager. By that point you not only made the plans, but also made arrangements to come and pick her up from our house. You didn’t tell him this in advance, give him the opportunity to take her to whatever event she had going, or give him an opportunity to participate. You just showed up and acted surprised that she hadn’t talked to him about it. Nice catch-22 you put him in, there. What was he to do? The plans were made. He could either cave and give up his time with her or keep her there, frustrated and angry. Good choices, both of them, don’t you think? Even on the weekends that you didn’t schedule things for her, you dictated what time she needed to be home–no later than 8:00, she has school, needs to be in bed early enough. You acted almost like she was visiting a friend’s house, not like she was with her Dad. Excellent strategy on your part. You got what you wanted… every time.

Then came the really fun years, the hormonal years, the “not afraid to spill it all” years. Those were my favorite by far. We just really never knew what would happen. Sometimes six weeks would go by without us seeing her at all because she was so busy, she was so overwhelmed at our house, too many kids, too many rules. It was tough for the poor little thing. When she was with us, she spewed all of the lies you had been feeding her since she was little. What a rotten Dad he was, didn’t pay you enough child support to keep her outfitted in the way to which she had become accustomed, he spent her whole childhood at the bars instead of doing things with her, he was abusive to you, he was worthless, worthless, worthless. She didn’t want to spend Father’s Day with him, she would rather spend it with her grandpa, because he’s really the one who raised her. I didn’t see him cry about it often, but I could see his face fall, the pain in his eyes. Good job again. You really know how to tear a guy down without even giving the tongue-lashing yourself. What an amazing gardener you are… planted those seeds when she was little and nurtered them right along, didn’t you?

After that things went downhill for her, and you. Suddenly she wasn’t doing so well in school and we would get your frantic phone calls. You would ask him, “Can you please talk to her?” He would try. He would talk to you at length about setting boundaries for her, about being on the same page, doing the same thing at both homes. You would agree and thank him so much for taking the time to talk with her. Then you would flush everything he had to say down the toilet. Back to the same old thing at your house. Ours was the only place she had any consequences. In four days a month, when your house was Disneyland, he couldn’t really make it stick, could he? But good job for you, again. What an intelligent way to really make him the bad guy in her eyes. He thought he was doing something good. You even patted him on the back for it while you were pounding that wedge in between them with your hammer.

Last summer she went a little crazy, didn’t she? Threatened suicide, started cutting herself, tried to run off with her stellar boyfriend. You called in the big guns. I remember that day like it was yesterday. You called him, in tears, and told him that she had run away. We dropped everything to come. Why? Because she’s his daughter and no matter how ugly things had gotten, he still loves her. We came. You fell apart. You told him you couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle her. You needed a break. Could she come and live with us for awhile? Of course he agreed. Thinking back on it now, I’m sure you had it planned. You probably turned around and smiled through your crocodile tears as he was agreeing to take her off of your hands.

To our house she came. To counseling you all went. She made everyone’s life a living hell. She tried to teach the rest of the kids in our home all of the bad things she could think of. She called your mother, the Queen of Interloping, every time things weren’t going her way, which was often. Grandma tried to come to her rescue more than once. She made it more difficult for everyone. Then… poof… after six of the hardest weeks we’ve ever been through… suddenly you were ready to have her back again. And back she went. It was like she’d never even been here. Months went by without a phone call from her. Worse, months went by without a phone call from you. You never called to catch him up on what she was doing, how she was doing, whether she was still in counseling, still dating the bad seed, nothing. No word. Although he called many a time to find out how things were, you never bothered to call him back. The one time you did, you told him about how busy you all were–too busy to let a father know how his own daughter is doing, too busy to involve him in it now that you had your six-week vacation.

He called at Christmas and had a two-minute curt conversation with her. His birthday came and went with no call from her. He called on her birthday and got voicemail. We all left her a birthday message. Still nothing. That’s been two months ago now.

Then you called me.

I was shocked.

I was surprised to hear your voice, to hear you act like you were concerned. More than that, I was surprised that you took time out of your busy life to even open the door to conversation. Before we get it opened up too wide, though, let me tell you that I don’t buy it. I don’t think you called because you’re so concerned about their relationship. If you were, you would have called him or, better yet, you would have had her call him, instead of taking the coward’s way out and calling me. I know she’s seventeen, but you’re still her mother and you can make that demand of her. I think you called me because you were looking for a sympathetic ear and you wanted to assuage your own guilt over the situation.

You called the wrong person. I’ve watched you systematically destroy her relationship with him for seven years now, and I know all about the things you planted in her brain before that time. You’ve done everything you could to exclude him from her life — music recitals, school plays, cheerleading competitions, homework, reports cards, whatever else you scheduled for her that he didn’t know about and therefore could not attend. It would not surprise me to hear that you told her he was too busy to come to those things.

I’ve listened to the lies you told her from day one, regurgitated to her father with a venom only you could have shown her. I’ve watched you turn him into the bad guy in her eyes. You begged him to step in and then let him take the fall while you continued right on being the Disneyland mom.

Great job! A+! Gold star for you.

You did an excellent job. You nurtured this falling out from the time you and he split. It’s been almost 17 years now that you’ve been doing this number on her, and on him. You’re a great manipulator. You got exactly what you wanted, exactly what you were aiming for. You’re the “better” one in her eyes, ok? You’ve succeeded. They have no relationship to speak of and you don’t have to bother yourself with making sure her “visitation” still happens. Isn’t that just the perfect scenario for you? You can just keep treating him like the ATM you always wanted him to be and you don’t have to share anything with him, least of all the love of your daughter, who is also, by the way, his daughter. Did you forget?

Remember that I’ve seen what you’ve done. If you feel guilty about where things are at, see a counselor yourself. Keep telling yourself you did the right thing, if that’s what helps you sleep at night. I think you’ve done an abominable thing to both of them. I think you deserve to carry around that guilt, for a long time. Thankfully, I’m not your judge, jury and executioner, because I’m not feeling very merciful today.

So don’t call me and act like you’re so concerned.

And please, don’t call me looking for sympathy… I’m fresh out.

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