My Cinderella Story

Boo mentioned to me that my language is a bit too colorful.  He’s right, it is.  I just never really paid that much attention to it, until he said something. Once he mentioned it, I was embarrassed.  It was colorful enough that he not only noticed it, he felt compelled to say something about it.  And he was right to do so.

I didn’t realize how far foul it had gotten, until I started making a conscious effort to clean it up.  Then I was amazed (in a bad, shameful way) and embarrassed by how often 4 letter words came flying out of my mouth without so much as a thought.  Especially when I’m mad, or have worked up a full head of steam I can cuss up a blue streak blue enough to make a sailor blush.

I’m mom to 3 kids, 12, 8 and 6.  I shouldn’t be talking like a sailor around them.  Sure they’ve heard it all before, but that doesn’t mean they should continue to hear it. Especially from their mother.  Besides, I’m creative enough, and seem to have somewhat of a talent with words, I should be able to come up with more creative things to say.  My sister does, and my all time favorite from her is ‘Jumpin’ Jesus on a pogo stick’.  I can do that.  It may be fun to try and do better than that.

So, I’m going to start cleaning up my act.  Not because Boo wants me to (he never said that) but because Boo noticed, and made me really aware of something I’m not so sure I like.

My colorful language harkens (does anybody really use that word any more?) back to my life with the devil incarnate.  (I guess if I’m cleaning up my act, I should find a more polite name for the evil I was married to. I’m going to have to think on that a bit).  

He was a redneck, (which is no excuse) but his language was rather colorful, and tended to become more so when he was with his brother or his friends. I blame that on his limited intellect.  He had no other words at his disposal to use to express himself.  Every other word was the F-word.  Being married to him, my standards were pretty lax, and I picked up his bad habit.  It was easier to let it go than it was to spend all my time getting after him to clean up his language.

The thing is, I was raised better than that.  I was raised with manners, couth, class and style.  I was not raised to cuss like a sailor.  And I don’t want my daughters to be raised that way.  I can’t help what happens with their father, but I can instill in them the same values and manners and class I was raised with and hopefully I can raise two young ladies instead of two redneck-tomboy girls.

On our trip to Florida, Boo and I had a lot of time to talk about a lot of things, and he said some things about my parenting skills, that weren’t easy to hear, but were right on the money.  They were observations he had made, and he was just voicing his opinion, which he is entitled to do. My kids have seen movies they shouldn’t have seen.  They’ve all seen the whole American Pie trilogy.  Not exactly fit for young eyes.  No, I did not allow them to watch it, at least not the first time, that honor belongs to evil incarnate.  But they have seen at least 1 or 2 of them at my house since then. My reasoning, while not all that logical, was that ‘The damage has already been done.  They’ve already seen this movie.’  But repeating a wrong isn’t right.  They’ve been allowed to watch rated R movies, which are so NOT age appropriate.  I am guilty of listening to Bob and Tom every morning on our way to work and school.  That morning program is not age appropriate for 6 and 8 either, it’s probably not age appropriate for 12.  Their father taught them to flip people off, but thought it was ok since he made sure to tell them they were only allowed to flip him off and their Uncle J.  I am guilty of allowing it and not putting a stop to it.  I voiced my displeasure, but, it went unheeded.  My voice was never heard in that marriage. But I digress.  I am guilty now, of occasionally flipping the girls off. It’s a private joke in our family, only now, there is no more family, or at least not the family unit that started that joke.  I can do better. I can be better.  I can be a better person, a better mother and raise better kids.  

I may have to work twice as hard to teach them to be gentlemen and ladies, because I am going to have to work to undo the damage done by their no class, no manner, no couth father, but it’s not an impossible task.

When I told Santa (Boo’s nickname for Newt) that Boo thought we could try harder to be more lady like and nicer and polite, she looked at me with the dead seriousness of all her 6 years and said ‘But he’s not here right now, so we don’t have to.’   She’s right to a point.  We don’t have to because Boo said to, or thought it would be nice.  We have to because it’s the right thing to do.

I am not making this change in me to please Boo, even though I know that it will, I am making this change in me because it’s necessary.  It’s necessary, because when I see myself through someone else’s eyes, I don’t like what I see and I can’t blame him for not liking what he sees either.  It’s not pretty, but it can be.  I don’t care how ‘beautiful’ he thinks I am, when foul words are flying out of my mouth, my beauty fades tremendously. Boo just happen to point it out and make me VERY aware of my lacking social graces, and questionable parental decisions.  Both are things I can and should change.

This weekend, a local department store had a MAJOR clearance sale.  All of their previously clearance items were marked down an additional 50% from their clearance price.  So, needless to say, I went shopping.  I bought close to 10 more pairs of jeans. Which is a ridiculous amount of jeans, but what can I say, I live in mine and the price was right.  But along with the jeans I bought 4 pair of dress pants.  I have several pair of dress pants already at home, but if given the choice, I will always choose my jeans, they’re more comfortable.

When I showed Boo what I bought Saturday morning (6 pr jeans, 1 pr dress slacks) he made the comment “I always wanted you to wear clothes like those pants. I always hoped you would dress up more.”  Easy enough. I can dress more professionally at work, and less casual.  Again, not to please him, not because he told me too, but because he’s right, I have a professional job, in an office where customers often visit, it’s a good idea to dress professionally and save the jeans for Casual Friday’s and the weekends.

In a weeks time he’s pointed out things that I kind of knew but had been sticking my head in the sand about.  When it’s pointed out to you, it’s hard to ignore.  It’s not major changes that need to be made.  It’s just a few tweaks to make it better, to actually get back to my roots.

You know, he doesn’t talk about ‘us’ much with his family or his friends.  Yes, they do know about me, but not in any kind of detail.  He says that he’s not embarrassed by me, that he just likes to keep his private life, well, private. (Good thing he doesn’t know about this blog!) But with his family coming from another country and being so BIG and ‘important’ (his father was a general in the army in his homeland) I would be embarrassed to bring me home to meet the family right now.  I’m a little TOO red-blooded American, almost, (gasp) dare I say it, Redneck right now.  I’ve lost touch with my manners, my class, my style, my couth. I need to find the lady in me and lose the hick, the hillbilly, the rude, loud, obnoxious, showy, flashy, sometimes even trashy side of me and find the refined, mannered, quiet, polite, socially acceptable person I know I was at one point.

So, I am going to shed yet another layer of residue left on me from my marriage.  This one I’m all too glad to get rid off.  Kind of like peeling the dirt and grime and filth off of me and finding a new shiny, cleaner, prettier, fancier, better me underneath.  A rags to riches, or Cinderella story.  Cinderella was good inside, the outside just needed to be polished.  Same with me.  Deep down, I’m good, I’m pretty, I’m classy, and well mannered.  I’ve just got to toss off these rags and shine.

Florida roadtrip

There we are, Hondo and me, on the infield at Daytona International Speedway, Daytona, Florida.

It was an amazing trip. More so for him, because he's way more into NASCAR than I am. It was fun to watch the excitement course through him as he decended the steps and put his feet on the track of the raceway. He was actually standing on the track his hero, Jeff Gordon, has raced and won on. For him it was just shy of Neil Armstrong stepping onto the surface of the moon.

Then we walked across the infield, and stepped onto Pit Row, and we were off and running. Once we hit FanZone, he was like a kid in a candy store, let loose. So much to see, so little time and he just wasn't sure what he wanted to see first. Once we got there, I almost ceased to exist. My job from that point on was to just keep up. It was like chasing a 3 year old. Sounds like a bad thing, but it wasn't. It was fun to watch him enjoy this trip, this gift, so much. It meant a lot to me that he shared it all with me.

Watching the race was more of the same. Although he was contained to a seat, or at least a section of seats, once they said 'Gentlemen, start your engines' he completely forgot about me. Every time the cars would round turn 4, he would jump up out of his seat, and watch with eager anticipation for them to come flying past us.

Orlando was my playground. We went out Saturday night, to Universal CityWalk. It is a boardwalk of sorts, with everything from the Hard Rock Cafe', the NASCAR Cafe', Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville, Pat O'Brien's (the best, Kick-your-ass hurricanes), Emerill has a restaraunt there. It was amazing. We could sit and stare out over the water, listen to the Bob Marley Experience, and later, to Kid Rock who was performing in Universal Studios. So much to see, and yet so little time to do it all in. Regardless, it was a wonderful time. It was fun to be out 'on the town' with Hondo.

This trip was either going to make us or break us, and I'm thinking it solidified us. We survived a 74 hour road trip, a whirlwind vacation, and we're still together. In fact, we've moved from being friends to dating and being in a relationship. (his words, not mine)

We did OK this trip. Even on the way home, tired and exhausted, and probably a bit cranky, we still managed to be friends and find things to laugh at. When we ran out of things to talk about even the silence was comfortable. That says something.

Can't live with 'em and can't shoot 'em

Men.  Can’t live with them and can’t shoot ‘em and get away with it.  Don’t care what Webster’s claims, M-E-N is a 4-letter word.

Should have seen it coming, but I guess I just stuck my head in the sand and hoped for the best.  After all, didn’t he tell me not to fall in love with him, because he would hurt me?  Even though he’s a top grade Bullshitter, and 85% of what comes out of his mouth is BS, apparently, this wasn’t.  

I’ve spent the better part of today, making excuses for him.  Something I’m terribly good at.  After all, I spent 10 years with the devil himself making excuses for his boorish, rude, totally inappropriate behavior.  Now, I find myself, out of habit, doing it again, for another knucklehead in my life.  There is a chance that I’m wrong here.  There is a chance that he did sleep most of yesterday and last night, and that he’s really busy this morning.  After all, he did drive 15 hours straight home Sunday night/Monday morning.  And, it is not COMPLETELY unheard of for him to be so busy that he doesn’t have time to chat.   I guess I could wait this one out and see what happens tonight after work.  

On an even more dismal note, the devil incarnate has reared his ugly head, yet again.  When will he learn, that when he’s a total ass to me, it will eventually bite him in the ass, because it’s going to come around that he’s going to need something from me.  At which point, I’m going to find very little if any motivation or reason to be accommodating for him.  

I picked the girls up from the sitter yesterday only to discover Newt is sick and has been all weekend and he did NOTHING for her.  He, of course, denied she was sick.  The sitter said she came to her house Monday morning with a fever and a sore throat.  I expected nothing less than this from him.  He left her be, didn’t treat her, let her be sick so that I would have to deal with it when I got home.  Not hurting me a bit, hurts Newt, making her suffer like she did.

It’s just another time in my life when I just don’t care.  All the good things that were happening in my life have happened and they’re over.  The guys are being shits.  Which just tells me I’ve picked another group of losers.  Time to call the whole game over.  

Looking for powers within and Higher

Growing up the daughter of a preacher, you get Christianity drummed into you, you live it, eat it, breath it, become it. I was taught there is one God, and only 1 God. Everyone else is wrong, or everyone else in the world is worshipping our God, just calling him different names.

Growing up the daughter of a preacher, I also got to see behind the scenes and I got to see just how truly corrupt organized religion can be. I got to see how double sided and hypocritical it is. They stand up at the pulpit and preach hellfire and brimstone and damnation, and spend Monday-Saturday committing the very sins they preach about on Sunday.

So, by the time I became an adult, and could make my own choices, I chose to leave the ‘church’, but not so much the religion, or the faith. I still believe in a higher power, although I’m not so sure there is only 1 higher power, or that his name is God. I still believe in miracles, I believe in Angels. Heaven and Hell, well, I haven’t exactly made up my mind about those places yet. But what I had held on to wasn’t enough, and what I had let go of left a void in my life that I needed to fill. So, I began to explore other options out there, on my own. Taking something from here or there, tweaking beliefs I had held true, and making them truer, for me.

I’m a first born, so I’m a control freak. I plan things; I love schedules, routines, plans, notes, lists, specific things. Spontaneity is lost on me. But being a control freak frustrates the bejesus out of me, because you just can’t control life. Control is an illusion. Nobody actually has control of anything other than themselves. I’ve been struggling with letting go, being only in the moment, enjoying today, without planning and plotting tomorrow. It’s been a struggle, but there has been some progress.

Another ‘religion’ that has completely fascinated me is wicca, the study of witchcraft. I know there is good and bad magic, actually white and black magic. What calls to me is claiming powers as your own, being completely centered, and at one with the world and universal elements around you, the earth, the wind, the water, the fire. Claiming powers as your own, which is something I’ve struggled with all of my life. I’ve never really had any real power of my own, and if I did, well, stupid me, gave it away to anyone who asked, and sometimes to those who didn’t ask. There is something incredibly seductive to me about being able to own and control and claim your own powers.

I don’t know if I’ll find all the answers, or even any of the answers, but there is something that calls to me, something there that I want. I want to be able to have my own powers, I’m sure I have powers inside of me, I just need to find the way to tap into them. I’m searching, not only for my powers, but my higher power, be it God, or George, or Pete or whatever. I just know that what I’ve always known in the past isn’t working for me in the present. Who knows what I’ll find in the future.

Relax

Mixed messages can be ever so annoying, but you'll save yourself a whole lot of time and hassle if you refuse to play interpreter. Work with what's right in front of you, rather than what you want to hear.

That is my horoscope for today.  

That being said, last night over dinner, Z tells me ‘I’m almost ready to close on a house.’
“OK, where?”
“Out by the country club, so we’ll be country club snobs.”

Now, I know that I’m reaching, and stretching and putting a lot of weight on such a small word.  It’s not so much that we’ll be country club snobs, it’s the fact that he acknowledged there is a ‘We’ instead of just him.  

I’m not taking what he said to mean we’ll ALL be moving into this house (although there is room for all of us) I’m not sure I’m ready for that, and I’m not sure he is either.  I’m just kind of tickled, (OK THRILLED) that there was a ‘WE’ in that sentence.  It was an admission that there is a WE, that we are a couple, that this might actually be something semi-important to him.

Now, back to my horoscope.  Work with what’s right in front of you, rather than what you want to hear.  Basically, stop looking for hidden meaning behind every word he utters.  I’ve relaxed a bit in two months.  I no longer worry about will he call, will we spend time together.  In fact, it’s almost understood that we will be together.  I spend every Wednesday night with him, and we spend every weekend together either at my place or his depending on if I have kids or not.  

Stop interpreting what he’s saying and just relax, go with the flow and enjoy.  We’re leaving on a major trip together tomorrow.  A mini vacay.  It will either solidify us or break us.  I’m sure we’re going to come out of this closer than we’re going into it.  I think this is going to be great trip for us (and the race will be amazing too)

Sorry

I haven’t posted anything meaningful here in a LLLOOOONNNGGG time, (and don’t expect today to be any different).  Life has been crazy busy.  Z is back from Vegas, and we’re gearing up to leave Friday for Daytona. Which means I’ve been busy planning the trip, and making reservations, and making sure everything in Cubicleland is caught up and done.  My nights will now consist of shopping for essentials and packing.  

If I don’t get another post here before we leave, I promise there we be some amazing pics when we get back.

Happy Valentine's Day. I have never gotten a gift for Valentine's Day. Married twice, and still nothing. This year is no exception. I will not get a gift, a card, a flower anything today. I DID however get a t-shirt, a sweatshirt and a key chain from Z when he got home from Vegas, AND let's not forget, in a couple of days, we're heading to Daytona for the weekend for the Race. So, while I may not get anything TODAY, I am getting goodies all around.

Back in the day

The other day, Newt comes up to me….

Hey Mom, remember last year when I was 4?

Hey Newt, since you’re 6 right now, last year you would have been 5.

Oh, Yeah, ok, well back in the day…

What did you just say?

You know, back in the day, when I was 4.

Back in the day?

Yeah, Mom, can I tell this story, or not?



Back in the day.  Where did she hear that?  Back in the day.  Oh my god.  I tried to keep a straight face, but jeez I was rolling inside.  She’s 6, she doesn’t have that many days to go back to.  

8 Days and counting

We are 8 days away from Daytona.  The tickets are on their way and should be here today or tomorrow.  We are 4 rows from the track right at the exit of Pit Row.    If you want to see what we’ll be seeing at the track, click on the link below.

Panoramic View of Daytona from Seats

Now that we’re a week away and the tickets are on their way (with confirmation and tracking#) it is all beginning to seem real and I’m getting REALLY excited.  When Z finds out exactly where our seats are, he’s going to be blown away. I am.  

Wow! Daytona.  The BIGGEST race of the NASCAR season, and I’m going, and I’m going with Z.  Christ, this is HUGE for us.  A weekend away, together, a mini-vacay, and it’s DAYTONA!

It's offical! Our seats are 4 rows from the track right at the exit of Pit Row! Awesome! We leave in 9 days! 

Heaven and Headaches

Newt's Heaven, is my headache. Oh thank whoever is in charge of the white stuff. The weatherman got it right last night. Listening to the weather on the news last night Newt heard “Blah, blah, blah, SNOW, blah, blah, blah” and much to my blessed relief (because Newt would be happy and not whining the weatherman got it wrong AGAIN!) and dismay, he was right this time.

Affirmation

I believe the sun should never set upon an argumentI believe we place our happiness in other people's handsI believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for youI believe your parents did the best job they knew how to doI believe that beauty magazines promote low self-esteemI believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone
I believe in karma what you give is what you get returnedI believe you can't appreciate real love till you've been burnedI believe the grass is no more greener on the other sideI believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
I believe you can't control or choose your sexualityI believe that trust is more important than monogamyI believe your most attractive features are your heart and soulI believe that family is worth more than money or goldI believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfairI believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires
I believe in karma what you give is what you get returnedI believe you can't appreciate real love till you've been burnedI believe the grass is no more greener on the other sideI believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
I believe forgiveness is the key to your unhappinessI believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressedI believe that God does not endorse TV evangelistsI believe in love surviving death into eternity
I believe in karma what you give is what you get returnedI believe you can't appreciate real love till you've been burnedI believe the grass is no more greener on the other sideI believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye

I am beginning to believe in Karma

I am beginning to believe in Karma.  What you give is what you get returned.  Case in point, it’s tax season, at least for those of us who get LARGE refunds and want to get our money as quick as possible.  I’ve already filed my taxes and gotten my refund (Thank you H&R Block and rapid refund) but the girls’ father is just getting around to his.  No problem for me.  He’s still dealing with last year’s taxes, because he claims Tate on his taxes and that always triggers an audit, caused by some foul up on his part the year she was born.  That’s neither here nor there to me.  

I pay the sitter, I am the ONLY one who pays the sitter.  I got the rcpt from the sitter this year for a single lump sum paid to her for child care for the year 2005.  It was not broken down by child, just one lump sum. I’m pretty damned smart, I can divide it out and make an itemized statement to go with the rcpt.  Like I said before my taxes are done.  Turns out this year, the child care expense didn’t make a difference in the outcome of my refund, so we didn’t even claim it.  Child care expense does not show up on my return, ANYWHERE. Neither does Tate’s name.

He called this morning wanting a rcpt for Tate’s portion of the child care expense.  I told him I would not give him a rcpt for her child care, because he wasn’t entitled to claim it, because he didn’t pay any of it. ‘But I fucking hired the sitter, and now, you won’t give me a rcpt because you’re being a bitch.’  Think what you will, you’re not entitled to child care expense credit, and I’m not going to forge a document so that you can get more money to blow.  I know the girls and I will never see any of it, even though he’s close to $1000 behind, but that’s beside the point.

He seems to think he’s got it all figured out, and that he’s so much smarter than me.  He thinks he can go to the IRS and look at my tax return and stir up all kinds of shit, and cause a lot of problems for me.  He’s more than welcome to try, but he’s not going to find anything.  The child care expenses didn’t even factor into my tax return, and therefore isn’t even on there.  He’s going to come up empty.

Just when I thought he was as big an ass as he could be, he surprises me and tops himself.  I didn’t think he could, but imagine my surprise to discover, He can!  Go figure.  

But back to Karma, I played by the rules, and always have when it comes to him (I have to. Keeps me from getting tripped up) and he’s trying to cheat the system and it’s going to come back and bite him in the ass.  He’s going to figure out that in trying to screw me over yet again, he’s only going to fail, there is no way for him to succeed.  Because he never plays by the rules, he always loses.  What you give is what you get returned.  He’s putting shit and crap and lies out there, and he’s only going to get shit and crap and screwed over in return.  

A bonus for me?  Child support enforcement is set up to catch his tax returns, and collect the amount he’s behind right off the top.  I get the first grand of his tax return.  He better hope it’s bigger than that or he’s getting nothing. NOTHING. Which would be the only truly fitting end to this little drama he’s put into motion.

Misc. Ramblings

It’s Friday in Cubicle land here, and that means…well, nothing really other than it’s Friday.  Tomorrow we all have to come in and work, therefore making Friday uneventful.  

Chatting with my sister today, seems like fame is knocking on her door.  Question is, will she answer it and will she invite it into her life?  We’re not talking National Pitt-Jolie level fame, but we’re talking Mid-west level fame.  A major newspaper in a major city in our state wants to do a ‘person of interest’ article about her.  Of course, this will provide more publicity, which will in turn, provide more customers for her business.  She’s already had some of her work on display in California, she’s doing a trade show in Indianapolis this summer, she has sold items to people in Ohio who are interested in selling her work in their shops.  She’s getting notoriety across the country.  I couldn’t be more proud of her.  And just think, when everyone is wearing a Kohleidoscope original, I can say I knew her when, and changed a couple of her diapers. LOL

Taxes are over and done with for another year.  I always get them done early because I know I’m getting a big refund.  It’s my chance to catch up on things that slid during Christmas, and buy a few nice things for the family.  

The girls will be home this weekend, and Bo will be with his dad, so it’s going to be a Girls weekend at my house.  Should be lots of fun.  My friend Ladi Bug was going to come over and demonstrate her new Mary Kay goodies now that she’s decided to become one of their consultants, but we had to reschedule that.  

Z is leaving Sunday morning, early, to go to Vegas.  It’s work related, but trust me he’ll find a way to have more than his fair share of fun there.  In June I think he’s arranged to take some classes in Hawaii.  It really sucks to be him.

Maybe if the weather holds I’ll get the girls out this weekend and take some more pictures of them.  It’s been a while since we had new pictures and I’m dying to get behind the camera again.

That’s my life in nutshell right now.  Mundane my sound boring but it’s the absence of drama that is wonderful.

If you land on your feet, falling in love is great!

The problem with me is, I usually land on my ass (or my head)

I hate you, now and forever-Part II

I can only guess, based on your behavior in the past couple of weeks, that you have somehow lost or misplaced the memo informing you that our marriage is over, I am no longer of any concern to you.  I am free to live my life without any interference from you.

I hate you with a passion that burns brighter and hotter than the sun.

Regardless of whether it is lost or misplaced or totally slipped your mind, I will take a few minutes out of my busy day to remind you, yet again, our divorce was final 18 months ago.  When that divorce was granted, I was freed from you, much like the slaves were freed by Abraham Lincoln.  By signing off on the divorce, thereby agreeing to the terms and conditions within it, you stated that you no longer cared about me, and that I was free to live my life without interference from you.  I am sure, (but not 100% positive, as I don’t have the papers directly in front of me, but I can get them) that it even states in the divorce papers that we are both free to live our own lives without any interference from the other.

In case you missed it, I hate you. Now and for always.

Now, once again, I’m just guessing here, but since you told me last week just how sorry you felt for Hondo because he’s with me, I can only speculate (I know it’s a big word, have your girlfriend help you look it up) that you were trying to figure out where he lives this weekend so that you could go to his place and offer your condolences for ending up with me.  I thought maybe you wanted to take him out for a few beers so the two of you could sit around, get sloppy drunk, and commiserate about how awful life is with me.  The problem with that scenario is that Hondo and I aren’t living together and he’s pretty fucking happy with the way things are between us.

Just to refresh your memory, I hate you, now and for always.

For someone who loves his privacy as much as you do, (You’re always snooping around, chasing people down for driving past your house, everything in your life is nobody’s business) you are pretty blatant about invading my privacy and Hondo’s too.  You don’t even think twice about coercing your daughters into ratting out their friend and making them tell you where he lives just so you can drive by.   You seem to be pretty damned obsessed with my life.  You were with me for 10 years, you begged and pleaded to come back, not once but twice and you continually fucked it up.  Then you claimed to hate me, you were glad to get rid of me.  Now I’m The Fucking Bitch (who just happened to give birth to your only 2 children) and yet you can’t seem to let go, and get a life of your own.  

I hate you with every ounce of my being, for now and for ever.

You really went and fucked it up this time asshole.  Taxes are coming up, and I know you’re going to want to get yours done so that you can get that great big refund and blow all that fucking money (just like you to be in such an all fired hurry to blow your wad).  Well, guess what.  You’re going to need my signature on some papers so that you can claim Tate on your taxes.  Oh, that’s going to cost you.  AND you’re going to want to claim Tate’s child care expense as well (even though you didn’t pay any of our sitters one red cent for Tate’s child care, since the day she was born) and well, I just don’t see how I’m going to be inclined to help you out there.  You seem to forget, especially when you start fucking around in my life, that there always, Always, ALWAYS comes a time when you need me, and I hold all the cards and all the power and I couldn’t care any less.  I will gladly turn my back and not give you a damn thing you want or need and fuck you over.  And I will enjoy it.  Maybe, next time you’ll think twice before fucking around in my personal life.  I doubt it, but until I die, there will be hope.

Oh, and did I mention, I hate you, really, really hate you, now and forever? I do.

More than anything in the world, I really wish like hell I could rewind my life, or be granted a do-over.  I would go back to our first date, when you showed up 4 minutes late.  That really was no big deal.  But I should have listened to my gut that night.  You didn’t care enough about the date, to tuck in your shirt, or dress nicely, or even take off your hat.  I should have run when you couldn’t even find the restaurant you wanted to take me to, and I had to give you directions.  I should have really gotten the hint when you walked me to the door, and stayed UNTIL 4:00 AM and I finally had to tell you, GO HOME!  And if all of that wasn’t enough, I really should have paid attention when I went out with friends a few nights later and came home to 20 – count ‘em 20 voice mail messages on my phone wondering where I was and what I was doing.  

In case you missed it before, I’ll tell you again.  I hate you now and for always.