Wednesday, December 27, 2006

The Heifer

The sitter took yesterday off as part of her Christmas vacation. Who can blame her? She just lost her husband right before Thanksgiving, and well, she could use some time off. So, since I had to work, the girls had to stay with The Heifer.

Since The Slug and I have come to an agreement about the girls, and custody, and my freedom to move, I have made a real, honest, effort to be nice to him, and accept Heifer as part of the package. But damn that bitch is making it impossible.

I got a phone call Christmas Eve from The Slug, the girls were sick. Very sick. They were running fevers, they had sore throats, and headaches. My advice? Give them some medicine, or bring them to me, and I’ll take care of them. He starts bitching “I haven’t had my Christmas with them yet, and I’m not going to give that up.” Fine. Then give them some medicine. In the background I hear that bitch yelling, “You two really need to take these girls to the ER right now. Don’t ask questions, just get them to the hospital!” Ok, bitch (and believe me there were other, more foul names spewing out of my mouth towards her at this point.) I am not taking them to the ER for a fever of 100.9 and a sore throat. But if you feel so strongly that they need to be there, feel free to take them yourself, AND pay the ER bill. No? Fine, shut the fuck up.

I did call the pediatrician, who did call in an antibiotic. I got the girls and got them well on their way to healthy.

Yesterday, The Heifer had to watch the girls again, b/c the sitter took the day off. Tate had wanted a particular hat for Christmas, and Santa being a bit on the broke side on occasion, didn’t get the exact hat she wanted, but did allow her to pick one out that was very similar. The deal with this hat is, it has a beer name on the front. It’s not big, it’s not bold, it’s not gaudy, but it is there. I have promised Tate we will get a cool patch and cover it, but in the meantime, she’ll just have to make do. So, she wears said hat to Heifer’s yesterday. And when Heifer sees the hat, she totally flips out and blows a freaking gasket over it. “Oh my freaking God! What kind of mother would allow her 9 year old daughter to wear a beer hat?” (uh, the one that gave birth to her. Who the fuck are you?) Gave Tate a complex right there on the spot, and made Tate so self conscious, she refuses to wear the hat.

Last night I was so livid, I was seeing red. Where the F@#k does that bitch get off making any kind of comment about my daughter and her hat? And where does she get off making Tate feel self conscious, and horrible about her Christmas gift? I called The Slug and told him, you better reign the bitch in and muzzle her because if you can’t do it I will. I am ready to put my size 8 right up her hoity toity ass, except there seems to be a huge ass stick already up there.

I will so glad when all things are said and done, and I can move the girls away from here. The Slug supposedly told The Heifer to move out That was March of this year. She’s still there. Of course she made promises, she bought things (cable, internet, a swimming pool, dogs, guns, a new truck, you name it), she offered sexual favors, she bribed, conjoled, manipulated, and has hid behind my girls (the girls don’t want me to leave, they love me) (yeah, my girls are vigorously shaking their heads NO behind her, giving themselves whiplash, and they are running to get boxes and suitcases and throwing her stuff into them) and managed to stay put, making my girls’ life there hell. They bitch for hours every time they come home from there. Slug has told me, that this year (2007) when she gets her tax money, she is moving out. Yeah, I heard that last year, and frankly I’ll believe it when I see the trash truck hauling her shit out the fucking door.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel for me and the girls. It’s still 6 months away, but I can see it there in the distance, on the horizon. There is hope in that penpoint of light, and I cling to it desperately. I live for that day, when I can load my life up in a truck and move to a new place, start a fresh new life, without The Slug, without the Heifer, without C1, without the drama, the stress the manipulations. I live for that day……

1 comment:

B.R.M said...

I am telling you...we are twins..separated at birth....sorta like Danny Devito and Arnold (me being Danny! Ha!)

It is like reading my life.

Now is this scary or funny? Knowing there are two of us out there? Probably a little of both.