Part Time Daddy ; My Story

Once Upon a Time there was this couple. They had a child. They divorced. The end…….Not really, but kind of.

When a divorce happens, which sadly it is more often than not, the proper thing to do between the parents would be to make sure there is no stress brought upon the child(ren) of that failed marriage. You know, things like, do not speak ill of the other parent in front of the child(ren). Make that child your number one priority in every little thing that you do. When making any decision in your life, be sure it benefits the child(dren). Never leave the child(ren) questioning your love and dedication for them. Give them your TIME.

I have always been a firm believer that as long as a parent spends quality time with a child, that the money (child support) can somewhat slide. Not that the support is not vital, but the time, is just most important, in my opinion. If a parent is struggling to make ends meet, and all they have left at the end of the week is their self, then that self is sufficient.

When a parent makes excuses week after week, and then finally no excuses, just silence, there is a time for some change. ((((( I do not have gas money ( even though I have offered to give the money), I do not have a place to stay, I do not have food ( even though I sent food), I have to go out of town, I am staying with so and so, and they have drugs here, I am staying with so and so and this is just not a good weekend, I do not have a vehicle ( even though I offer to bring her) ))))

When a child sets up night after night crying and trying to figure out why a parent does not love them enough to see them, it tends to harden the heart. Especially when I, as a mother, do not know the answers. I have to take myself back to my first rule. Do not speak ill of the other parents. I will tell you, those moments in my life, I had to fight back the urge to cuss, to scream, to just be blunt with the truth. But……..I did not. I made excuses just to salvage my child’s heart stings. Months without contact, then years without contact. It took a good year before my child finally stopped asking when was he going to see her and when she stopped saying daily, “I miss him”.

When my daughter turned 7, I finally told her there were two reasons why her father stopped coming around us when she was 4. The first reason was because he had a bad drug habit. This drug habit had messed with his mind and he was not the person he wanted to be. The second reason was because I had given him enough chances. I let her know that I told him that if he went six more months without any contact, to not even bother anymore…….After a little more than 3 years of no contact, I am assuming he listened.

I have never stood my ground to be mean. I have stood my ground hoping for a change. I stood my ground, hoping, that  him and his family would prove me wrong. Show me that they DO in fact love her and they DO find her important and she IS worth their time. 3 years, and nothing. My little girl deserves more than a part time daddy. I am not all for “weekend daddys“. Men helped bring these children into this world, they should be there more, but if that is all the time they can give, then it is better than nothing. These children should have equal amount of time with each parent, and if not equal then as much as possible. So once a month, once every 6 months, NO……..Because that first 6 months, one of those months consisted of laying down night after night with tears in her eyes, ” did my daddy text me goodnight?”  4 years old and just simply wanting a text. Just some sort of contact that he was at least thinking of her. Nothing. ( For months at a time that is all she would get, a text saying Goodnight, sadly enough she was okay with that)

I know there are people in my life that do not accept, the way that I am being. People that I love dearly. They do not think it is the right way. That is okay. Agree to Disagree. I just hate for people to think that I do this type of thing out of hate.

I am sure some think that I should allow my daughter to see this family just whenever they want, or whenever they have time for her. What is that teaching her? How is that showing her the value of family?

My biggest problem was his bad habits. He gets clean, and wants something to do with her, and then months later when he is dirty, he stays away. We dealt with that for 2 whole years. That is just not fair.

When my daughter turned 5, one year after her father shut the door, she asked my husband if she could call him daddy. Of course he was honored. He has no children of his own. She wanted to have a  daddy so badly, and he wanted to be called daddy, so it has worked out pretty awesome. I feel in my bones there will come a day when my little girl is old enough to decide for herself if she wants to hunt these people down that had no time for her when she was little, and leave her daddy ( my husband) feeling second. In his eyes, she can do no wrong, and she is his pride and joy……You know, the way it SHOULD be……Only time will tell. But for now, She will not have a part time daddy…She has a full time daddy,and I wish others would realize that he is the best thing that has ever happened to her. It should be seen as her being blessed to have someone there for her every single second of every single day.

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Her life is good. She is never questioning if her daddy loves her. She is never wondering when her daddy is going to have time for her. Because he loves her every single day and he is with her every single day…

Mental Note: We should all learn to respect the fact that each person has their own reasons. Good or Bad, they are that persons reasons. I respect yours, please continue to respect mine.

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The Little Things

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The sweetest thing in the world to me, is to see that excited look on a child’s face when they receive something after they have given up hope.

A few days ago, my seven year old and I treated ourselves to breakfast at a restaurant that has a store attached. This would be the same store that her dad and I purchased her favorite stuffy, Magic the Unicorn, as a Christmas gift. A stuffy that she sleeps with, eats with, even takes to the restroom when she is bathing. The first thing she says while tucking her in at night is, “where is my Unicorn?” Most of the time it is lying right beside her, but she has grown so accustomed to asking for it, that she now does it out of habit.

While waiting to be seated, my daughter looks over and sees a unicorn identical to hers. There was a tad bit of excitement. And Then……There it was. The Raccoon. The sister to her Unicorn, as she had stated, while lighting up like a beaming strobe light. “Oh mom, I need that, Can I get it?”   With her being little and not fully understanding our situation, she always wants every little thing that she sees.  I am a housewife, therefore my husband is the sole bread winner, which leaves me having to say “No honey, you do not need that”  Or, “Maybe later” more times than not. I could tell by the way she was talking about it, that it completely overwhelmed her to see it. I told her that was something that she needed to expect for a special occasion. Which oddly enough, she accepted, but not without that heart broken expression.

When we finished our meal, I went to stand in the line to pay for the bill. My little one went straight for the toys section. As I was standing there in line, something was telling me to get that Raccoon. My heart was just really pressuring me to grab it up and lay it on the counter. “get it,  get it , get it.” I kept hearing those words over and over in my head. I rarely go and eat out without my husband being present, and I know if he had of been standing there with me, he would have just gotten the dang stuffy. Without another thought, I grabbed it up, set it on the counter, and asked the cashier if she would place it in a bag, before my daughter could see it. The excitement of keeping it a surprise, had me shoving that bag in my purse before even swiping my card.  As we approached the car, I unlocked my door only, so that I would have time to place the bag in the back seat before she could get inside. She never did notice the bag sitting in the seat right next to her. I was having a hard time holding my excitement in, but wanted her to find it herself. After about ten more minutes of driving to our next destination, she finally said, “I have to blow my nose.” Which I seen as the perfect opportunity. ” Madison, I believe there is a paper bag beside you that you can use to throw away your used tissue.” She grabbed it and said, ” Nah, I think there is something in it.” She opened the bag and looked in. I had already fixed my rear view mirror to where I could see her face. When her head popped back up and our eyes met in that rear view mirror, I could not hold back the tears. This little girl looked up at me with a facial expression that will forever be embedded into my mind. Eye brows raised, and a smile from ear to ear. She was so very happy, and equally thankful. For a few seconds she was in disbelief and  I could tell right away that I had done good. She thanked me over and over again, and told me it was awesome, and I was awesome.  What mom does not want to hear those words?  She said”I just can not believe it mom, You tricked me real good. I love it so much. I can not wait to show daddy.”

I know some will not find this story heart touching in the least. And I suppose those are the ones that are able to give their kids every little thing that they want. Part of me wishes that I could be one of those parents that showers their little ones with tons of expensive gifts. But the other part of me, loves being able to see the appreciation my little girl has over a $13 stuffed animal. I would not witness that appreciation and excitement over something so small, if she were spoiled. Now I am not knocking the ones who are able to spoil their children. I am merely stating that the feeling one gets when their child is excited over something simple, is like nothing else. I literally had tears rolling down my face when I met her eyes and she seen that Raccoon. I knew it was going to be an exciting moment for her, because out of all of her Christmas gifts that she received last year, her Unicorn was her favorite.  It is The Little Things, that make this life so great.

# I would just like to say “Thank You” to my husband for his efforts. He works every single day, and sometimes long hours, so that he may not only provide our needs, but some of our wants as well. This moment that I am able to share, was completely because of him. I was able to be home with my sick daughter, without stressing about a job, and was able to take her out for breakfast, AND get her a treat.. It was a heart warming day for me, and my hard working partner deserves all of the credit. I love you.

Mothers Absence

Placed in a womb that is un-nurturing.
Innocent soul trapped in its doom.
Straight into the arms of emptiness.
For Love there is no room.

Hints of compassion,
quickly fading away.
Longing for words,
necessary to say.

Stripped down to nothing
No spirit to bare
It was stolen away ,
along with an ability to care.

Nothing to miss.
No reminiscing to be had.
All hope is lost.
I will forever be this sad.

A bond never growing,
Yet a broken heart remains
Longing for the key,
That will take away these chains.

Jme ’15

A Daughters Story, And Then Some….

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I left my last blog with the story of my dad becoming violent during a drunken ride home. If you have not read the beginning of my blog, please do, so that you may make sense of my story.
Lets go back a few years to when I was 8 years old.
I was awaken by my mother at 2:00 a.m. on a week night. She came in my room, shook me a little, being careful not to wake my two younger sisters who were lying next to me. “Jamie, wake up. I need you to wake up.” As I finally gained consciousness, she continued to explain that my dad was in the tree outside with a rope around his neck threatening to jump out of it and kill himself. She wanted me to go outside and see if I could talk him into coming down.”
Before you even consider that this stuff is not true, and did not happen, I assure you, with all of my being, each and every word I type is 100% true. Also please know that it is terribly hard to share some things, because it brings all of this stuff back to the surface. My intentions are to do some good by doing this.

Now….where was I?
I proceeded to walk outside, slowly making my way over to the tree that my dad was sitting in. Sure enough he had one end of a rope around his neck, and the other tied to the tree. “Hey dad, what are ya doing in that tree?” I asked. Silence…. I think he may have fallen asleep. “DAD!” I yelled. I caught his attention, and he yelled back. ” What the hell are you doing out of bed?” I know this sounds terrible, but I just wanted to go back in the house, crawl back in my warm bed and go back to sleep. All I could think about, was the fact I had to get up early in the morning and go to school. Maybe the reason I was not taking all of this too seriously was because these type of incidences happened on a regular basis.

I continued to tell him that mom woke me up and told me to come talk him out of the tree. ” Did she now?” He asked, in a very low tone..
I think to him, that showed that she cared some bit about him. I am sure the reason he ended up in that tree, was no different than any other time he had threatened his life, or done something to make her feel sorry for him. Time after time, he would come home late at night, just as he had this night, drunk, with no recollection of where he had been. Or some fabricated lie of where he had been. She was going to leave him, or make him leave, because she couldn’t live like this anymore. YadaYadaYada….
“Yes dad, she told me to see if I could get you to come down, and go in the house so we could all go back to bed.” I told him. ” Well you go on in and get back in bed.” he said. I told him I would as soon as he came down from that tree, or at least took the rope off of his neck, and threw it down to me. It seemed to take an hour or so to talk him down. Treating him as though he was a child. Uplifting, and positive words. Just as I was about to give up, he threw the rope down to me, climbed half way down, and fell the rest of the way. I really do not remember what happened next. All I know is that next morning was tiring.

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Now that we have come to the conclusion of how my father was, and still is, we can now turn the attention to my mother. I have spoke to my mother twice, face to face, in 4 years. We have text maybe twice, and media chatted twice. Other than that, our relationship has seized to exist. I really have no idea what brought the silence on, this specific time. I was never told. It just occurred.
I have so many memories floating around in my mind that cause me a great deal of pain. But just so you know, these memories are unlike the memories I share of my dad. These memories really bother me each and every time I share them. I whole heartily believe a child, of any age, needs their mother. Not saying that fathers do not love their children just the same, but being a mother, I can relate with what is expected or not expected from a mother. I learned quickly after giving birth to my first child what I missed out on when it came to having a mother. I long for those conversations with her telling me how proud she is of me for my accomplishments. I would love for just once for her to look me in the eye, tell me she loves me, and mean it. The thought of having coffee together and just chatting about my kids, her grand-kids, brings tears to my face…..Because those times have never existed, nor will they ever. That is just not the person she is. I know it has a lot to do with how her mother was with her. Nearly non-existent. But I refuse to let that be used as an excuse. I broke that chain when I gave birth to my children. I refuse to be a mother who leaves her own flesh and blood wondering what it is they ever done, to be loved so little. Why was I not important enough for her to break that chain?
The latest of my hurt, was when I was 21 years old. Since then, things have never been quite right. Not that it ever was before, but this specific time, took most of what I had left, as far as respect, for my mother. Lord knows that is all that kept me hanging on up until then.
Mother and I both worked in a sock mill together, along with some of our close friends. We normally had a really good time working. We would sit around the table, talk, snack, wait for our machines to fill up with socks, only to go push them down and sit some more. When it was time to go catch up on our work, we would turn the radio up, and get to it. One night, mother decided to bring a new puppy to work with her. She was in the process of house training, so she did not want to leave it running loose at her house. She had made the statement that the radio seemed to be hurting the puppies ears, so she was turning it down. Within an hour, a song had come on that another coworker and I really liked, so without thinking I went and turned the radio back up. I was not thinking anything about that dog, and its ears hurting. It was a natural reaction, that when a song came on that we liked, one of us would turn it up a bit.
The song did not even get mid way through, before it was shut off. I looked up toward the end of my machines, and my mother yelled out, ” .If either one of you bitches turns that radio back up, you will have my ass to kick  ” True Story……..Without warning these words came out of my mouth, ” Mother you need to grow up.”
This was the first time in my 21 years that I “talked back” . My mother came running down the aisle with the look only a person would have for their enemy. I knew at that moment, I was going to have to defend myself. I could not allow her to slap me around, as she had many times before. I put my hands up to catch her fist, and some how managed to hit her glasses, which nicked her nose. I later found out that she accused me of breaking her nose, all by merely defending myself. She told our coworkers that she literally had to pop her nose back in place.

My mother grabbed a hold of my hair and shoved my head toward the knitting machine handle. I am not sure how many of you have ever been in a sock mill, but these machines have a large belt on the side, that is hooked to an axle that runs ALL 60+ machines. She was trying to put my head into this belt so that it would grab a hold of my hair and scalp me.It has happened to many people in the past. That was not even the worst part of this incident. Mother had told a coworker, that someone had better follow me home, because I was going to get what was coming to me. They in fact, followed me home that night..
I would like to think, even to this day, that she was just mad and blowing off steam. She would have never actually ran me off of the road. I also hope that she would not have really shoved my head into that belt, with the knowledge that it could have seriously hurt me, or worse. I really do not know. But I do know, I should never have to wonder such a thing. This is my life. This is the destiny that I was given. I have used it to learn from. I search through all of negative in my life, and I always pull something positive from it. If I did not at least attempt to do that, then I would drive myself crazy.
I learned from first hand experience that a mother can break a child’s spirit into pieces. And more times than one. I learned how important it is to build a child up, from a very young age. I learned that without a mothers love, a child will feel worthless.
Ironically I am thankful for being taught in a backwards way, how needful a mothers love is. I appreciate the knowledge of how important it is to tell my own children over and over how much I love them. A child is just that……A child. These little people are our responsibility. We are to love them, nurture them, teach them. Not use, abuse, and neglect.
I hate to share such a horrible story without sharing something good. There have been two times in my life that mother was, well…….Motherly. I will share those moments.
I was sixteen years old. I had been grounded for some reason. Part of that grounding was from my boyfriend. I was not allowed to see him for so many weeks. I can not remember exactly, but it was a very long time. My mother heard me in my room crying, and without saying anything she come in , sat on the bed, and put my head in her lap. She held me while I cried. When I start thinking about all of the negative that she and I have been through, I go to that time and place. Just her holding me, made my heart feel so much better.
I was thirty two and just had my fourth child. The relationship I was in, was just utterly ridiculous. I do not know how I found myself in such a terrible situation. I was at the end of my pregnancy while living with my mother. She took care of me, and when it was time to have my daughter, she took me to the hospital, and stayed until I had her. She was actually in the room with me when I gave birth. That was the only time out of all four of my children that she was there with me. I had such high hopes that she would gain something from that, and hold on to it.

False hope………………………

I still dream often that my mother knocks on my door, and just grabs me. Apologizes for everything terrible that she has ever done, everything ugly that she has ever said. No excuses, just apologies. Just love me. Just want to be a mother.
I am not sure if I will be able to share any more memories. It is overwhelming to do so. My mother lives 15 minutes from me, but it seems as though it is a world away. I know she is going to die someday sooner than later, and there is all of the chances in the world to have a relationship with her right now. I know so many people will want to say, if my mother was here, I would make things right. Trust me, I want to. I have tried time and time again. I have put things that have happened in the past, just so we could have a relationship. It just hurts so bad when it happens again. It is like that hurt, adds to the already hurt. I want to forgive her for all that she has and has not done, but how do you forgive someone that does not think they have done anything wrong?
In writing these blogs, I am hopeful that it will touch a mothers heart, and give her the desire to want to be better than this. There may be a mother just as me, that was never nurtured by her own mother, and is falling into that terrible pattern. It is never too late. It can always be fixed. As long as you are breathing, you can fix it. If you do not have the courage to go to your child and apologize for things you have done, or things you have not done, then write a letter. Open that door.
Mental Thought: Never leave the love you feel in your heart up to question. It is not a very comforting feeling for the one questioning it…..

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A Daughters Story – The Opening

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Thirty some odd years ago, a sixteen year old child gave birth to a daughter. This is her daughters story.

I was born into a world of drunkenness, which brought abuse, and very little nurturing. As far back as I can remember, things were just always bad. I always believed that my mother and father hated one another more than loved. There is not  one memory in my mind where they were nice to each other. To this day I still wonder why they stayed husband and wife as many  years as they did. It is not like they were together for those twenty years. Maybe it was just to cause me torture.

From the time I was in first grade I switched schools nine times. Any idea how hard it is to find friends, little on keep them when you move so often? Especially when you are considered low class. My parents would separate because of a drunken rage from my dad, and mother would move out, start over, and within a few months they would reunite. Dad would always end up moving to what ever location my mother had chosen.

A taste of my younger days.

Age 6/7. I am not sure what reason I was allowed to walk to school at such a young age, but I do remember having to do so. We lived in Chattanooga Tennessee during the beginning of my second grade year. I remember having that uneasy feeling the first few times I done it. Seriously, who allows their small child to walk to school. It was only a block, but Never would I allow that to take place. Not in that area. The point of my story was not even the fact that I had to make sure I got myself to school. I remember having a terrible morning on one of those walks. The bottom of my shoe had fallen completely off. The only thing I had to walk on was the insole of the shoe that was still attached to the inside. Kids can be cruel at such a young age, or any age for that matter. My misfortune that day was used for their amusement . All the laughs and teasing, really broke my spirit. It took me a very long time to get over that. I was finally released from that specific humiliation when we moved. A lot of times, moving was welcomed, because of situations such as this, Though It seemed every school had those kids that would snub their nose at my second hand cloths, or ratty hair.

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By the middle of my second grade year, we had moved about an hour away from Chattanooga. We went from living in the city, to the back woods of some po-dunk town that did not even have a traffic light, known as Ider. I was not at this school very long until I had some how managed to develop head lice. So for the rest of the year, I was shunned by my fellow class mates for this added misfortune.

I began my third grade year in different school. This was not like the last move, a combined family move. This involved a separation. Mom left dad and moved to Fort Payne. This was a town/city. A lot smaller than Chattanooga, yet tons bigger than Ider. I stayed at this school, from the beginning of Third, until the middle of Fifth, and I failed fourth grade, so we are looking at, at least three years at this residence. Probably the longest that I ever stayed at any school or residence. This was because my mother was living in what is called a HUD home or Governmental housing . Her rent was income based. She had no income, therefore it was near nothing. Dad eventually moved back in with us, but when they would separate during these years he would be the one to leave, because she refused to give up her cheap housing. This was the age of when I was molested by a family member. I will have to save that incident, and the details for another day.

Half of fifth grade,  and all of sixth grade, we were back in Ider. Once again, I was in contact with someone with head-lice. Word got out, therefore, I was a dirt bag for the rest of the time being at this school. Seventh and Eight I attended another small town school, Sylvania. Up until this point, I would have to say it was the least terrible. Especially as far as people were concerned. There may have been a person here and there that was mean, and nasty, but they were few and far between.

Ninth and Tenth was by far the easiest for me. Collinsville School.  I think I had gotten to the age of not caring as much what people thought about me. I find when we are not so concerned about what others think, we will also gain more determination to make the best out of whatever circumstance we find ourselves in. Along with that determination, confidence is gained. I had so many friends, in three different grades. For once I was enjoying school, not necessarily the academic part of it, but definitely the social part. I had even tried out for a few extra curricular activities. Basket ball the first time. I was so pumped about it. My parents even agreed to it. As long as I could get to and from games and practices without them being involved. I made sure that would not be an issue. During the first practice,  I was told that my birth certificate was not an original, and without the original I could not practice. It was too much to ask of my mother to go to the health department and obtain another birth certificate,therefore I missed out on the opportunity. In my tenth grade year I had joined color guard. Ordered uniforms, had been going to weekly practices. Out of the blue, I was accused of doing something with my mothers live in boyfriends,underwear. There was also a ring that had come up missing as well. From my understanding the ring had later surfaced in a jacket pocket, but the underwear…Yep, still missing. Just my personal thought would be, mother did not want the hassle of children, or the more than likely the boyfriend. They wanted to spend their time, alone.

My father allowed me to quit school. He did not just allow, he pushed me to it. For a few weeks I decided that I would in fact quit school, but that is all of the vacation I needed, before I decided to return. By this time, it was several weeks into my Eleventh grade year, and I had landed back in Sylvania. Before the second semester was over, I had quit again. This time it was due to the fact, that my dad had rather stay drunk instead of worry with my education. He can not read nor write, so I suppose he felt I was educated enough. Every Monday he had a hang over. So I was always missing those days. There would be a day between that and Friday that I would miss again. We lived out of the area for the school that my dad insisted I attend. He would drive to his work in the mornings and that is where I would get on and off the bus. Since he would not go to work on a daily basis, I could not go to school on a daily basis. I finally just quit again. I had no choice. School was hard enough on me without all of that added stress.

I know I can not blame my parents for every little wrong choice I have made myself in this life. Though I can in fact, and do blame them for not teaching me some very vital things. One of those things being respect. I was never taught to respect myself. That was something that I had to teach myself, and it took many many years to do so, and with a lot of failed attempts. I was never taught morals. I had to learn those from my friends parents along the way. I was never nurtured, loved on, or lifted up. But those things I hold tight to now, as being a blessing. It has shown me the damage it can do to a child’s heart when these things are not offered. I refuse to ever leave my children wondering what they mean to me. I will never say things to bring them down. I will always pressure them to leave their positive mark on the world. I will teach them that the children that seem to live in poverty are just the same as they are. Their parents may be down on their luck, or their parents may just not care. Either way it is not the fault of the children. One day that child will be an adult, and will remember each and every person that ever said or done anything ugly, and will equally remember those good people who treated them simply as humans.

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TO BE CONTINUED……

Mental thought: We must always realize one simple fact. As parents we are creating a chain. What we teach our children, will then be taught to their own children.