Now that school is back in, my weekly schedule is pretty much routine. It goes kind of like this, wake up, get the kids ready, feed them breakfast and drop them off at school. Marissa is the first to drop off, in which might I add today was the first day without any tears, then we go to Tommy's class, and last but certainly not least, I take Casie to the cafeteria where she waits until the bell rings before being dismissed to her class. Then, I head back to my house and either do my house chores or my homework (since I do go to college full time, despite Brent's last comment). And before you know it, it's time to leave to go pick up the two younger ones. We come home, have lunch and then they usually crash out and about 3 hours later, I leave to go pick Casie up. It sounds exhausting, but I'm glad to be able to do it. So, no complaints here.
Tonight was an exception, there was a mandatory parents meeting at the children's school. As I made my rounds to each appropriate classroom I was so proud of my children and how far they have come, since their whole world was pulled out from underneath them on the night of September 15th, 2010. But, there's always a reminder that makes me take a step back and just feel so sorry for them. For example, one of the teachers told me that one of my kids approached her and said "did you know that my dad is in jail". Of course, I have been honest with my children from day one in explaining the situation to them - not from "my side" of view, but the facts. After all, most of what I am telling them is a matter of public record and I would rather them hear from me v. hearing from someone else. And as I said numerous times, I'm not a saint - I've had my moments, but I can honestly say that the minute I found out I was going to be a mother, that became my number one priority. I have also encouraged my children to talk about it with someone they trust. I also explained to them that other children aren't familiar with this type of "business", so to talk to an adult like me, their Grandparents, teachers, or whoever they feel comfortable with. Luckily, I notified the school before hand so the teacher knew what he was talking about and simply responded with "well, you know, everyone has to live somewhere" and that was good enough to the child. Sometimes, as parents we tend to over think responses, but simple ones like that is what they are satisfied with. I don't know if Brent is in jail or not, or frankly any of his buisness now days, but boy does he know about mine. And that should be expected since I'm living my life as an open book to this blog.
Throughout the day, I received several "blocked" calls. I ignored all of them, but I couldn't take it anymore and finally picked up and said "Hello Richard Head!". As in the past, 99.9% of the time it's normally Brent. Only this time, it was a lady named Savannah who worked at a Malibu retreat center and just received my email regarding my depression. One big guess who did that?!? I kindly told the lady that I appreciated her call, but that my EX-husband was the one doing it and has been doing it for sometime now and I was sorry for wasting her time. This went on over and over again. Instead of getting angry or even, I felt pain for him. There he is a 45 year old man that has nothing better to do with his time then sign ME up for mental facilities. At first, I saw his humor in it. But, now its just sad. Speaking of mental, I had a visual of this poor, lost soul sitting by his self signing me up for things on the Internet while he hits the crack pipe. I just had to pray. Yes, I suffered serious depression going through this and still am. But, I've never been that low and I would consider myself to be respectful to everyone. Is his life that miserable and pathetic?!? If you would see my cell phone bill, you would certainly think so. With that being said, say a special prayer for this guy. God knows he needs it.
Hopefully, tomorrow will be with less phone calls - from mental hospitals. (smile)
Enjoy the rest of your evening! Much love and God Bless!
No comments:
Post a Comment