Hello to my dear, beloved children. Happy Valentine's Day. I used to give you candy and hearts on Valentine's. Do you remember? I do. Not to be cliche, but you are my heart. I hold on to memories of you as children, snuggled into me, and in my imagination there you are and I can hold you and keep you safe.
Often I feel afraid, imagining what you have endured, what may have happened in your lives. When I imagine your past without meI feel as if I'm standing at the edge of a very high cliff, a deep crevasse below partially obscured with fog and clouds, and there is fear in my stomach and an ache in my legs (I am afraid of heights.)
Then, I imagine each of you surrounded by white light and love, because, what else can I do?
My middle son. It has been seven and a half years. Do you ever read this? God, do you know how much I love you? How much I always loved you and cared? You are isolated from all your family now. My parents, my sister, your dad is in Texas. (Do you know now that crack cocaine doesn't make you sleep?) I see your grandma frequently. We all spent your brother's birthday celebrating together. It would have been nice if it could have always been like that, a family that although there was divorce, feelings could have been mended or put aside for the sake of you kids, and there could have been some kind of cooperation, peace and mutual child-rearing. That didn't happen. But today your dad's mother and I get along nicely, and we are working together to give your brother support.
Your grandma told me you thought while you were growing up that I took naps in the afternoon because I was on crack. (I guess this is what your dad told you.) I'm honestly not sure because I've never done crack, but I don't think it makes you sleep. The people I've seen who do crack are skinny, lose teeth, and have nasty skin. None of which described me while you were growing up. It turns out that the bipolar medication I was on caused me to have to sleep a lot--primarily the lithium. I've since found out in the years after I separated from your dad that I do not have bipolar disorder and I was on medication I didn't need. There is no way to address the things which were said about me really, and I don't want to use this blog to defend myself against boogeymen I'm not even sure of--I just know many lies were spread. There are some things I did that I am not proud of--actions I took. However, I never left you. I did not abandon you. Our relationship was systematically and obsessively destroyed. I always loved you and wanted to be with you, and wanted to be your mother.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
More Missed Christmases
My daughter was home from college for Christmas and wouldn't see me. She did not respond to my texts. Is she so angry, so hurt, doesn't want to deal with all the pain of the past? It breaks my heart and rips me in two to think about what she went through.
I've seen her once in seven and a half years. That was a shock. I had seen a picture of her or I wouldn't have recognized her. She was not my little girl any more. She had grown a foot, so that I had to look up at her--a young woman. I just wanted to sit and stare at her, to never let her out of my sight again. I watched her, looking for signs that the little girl I once knew was in there, the spunky child.
I haven't heard anything from my middle son in over three years. We went to SuperCross with relatives recently, and their two fourteen year old boys. The boys were still young and innocent, dependent on their mother, bonded with her. She brought blankets for the boys to the stadium, even though they said they didn't need them (they were looking cool in their stylish clothes)--but they ended up bundled up under layers of blankets. I remember my son being that way, needing me still, just beginning to separate and form his own identity. And then having no mother. Gone. The last communication with him was very angry. He responded to a letter I sent him. I was trying to let him know that his dad violated court orders, that I always wanted to be in his life and his father wouldn't let me. I stated that I had always shared legal custody. He responded and said he was a legal adult now and I had no rights concerning him. He told me I could fuck off. I don't have a phone number for him any longer. I do send cards to him through his grandmother. He never responds.
I feel like I've failed my children so much. That I couldn't overcome their father--or something. I don't know if overcome is the word. I do feel my kids felt they had to chose their dad. I cheated on their father. He was wronged. And then he cut me out of their lives. And they felt like I abandoned them. I don't blame them. I wish I could fix it all. I wish I could fix their pain. I hoped so much I wouldn't be writing this anymore. That my children and I would be reunited. That the pain of missing years would melt away and be healed. But it's not.
I do have my oldest son back in my life. It is because he has Autism and Epilepsy and is not yet independent. His dad decided he was moving out of state with his new wife and their two young children. He told my oldest, who was living with him, it would be best if he did not come. My son was going to live with his grandmother. He has been close to her, my ex's mother--all these years, all three of my kids have. I think she largely stepped in to fill my role. She said he could live with her if he had a job. But by summer he still didn't have a job and his dad was moving in a few months, so at her urging he agreed to see me. We had been talking a little for several years already, but he was reluctant to see me. Now he lives with me part of the time and part of the time at his grandma's. It is such a relief to get to be with my son again. It also brings up a lot of sadness for all the missing years that have gone by. He is a young man now, not a teenager. He is more set in his ways. There is some hardness there... that is slowly softening and giving way. And the huge gaping hole in my heart isn't quite so big.
I've seen her once in seven and a half years. That was a shock. I had seen a picture of her or I wouldn't have recognized her. She was not my little girl any more. She had grown a foot, so that I had to look up at her--a young woman. I just wanted to sit and stare at her, to never let her out of my sight again. I watched her, looking for signs that the little girl I once knew was in there, the spunky child.
I haven't heard anything from my middle son in over three years. We went to SuperCross with relatives recently, and their two fourteen year old boys. The boys were still young and innocent, dependent on their mother, bonded with her. She brought blankets for the boys to the stadium, even though they said they didn't need them (they were looking cool in their stylish clothes)--but they ended up bundled up under layers of blankets. I remember my son being that way, needing me still, just beginning to separate and form his own identity. And then having no mother. Gone. The last communication with him was very angry. He responded to a letter I sent him. I was trying to let him know that his dad violated court orders, that I always wanted to be in his life and his father wouldn't let me. I stated that I had always shared legal custody. He responded and said he was a legal adult now and I had no rights concerning him. He told me I could fuck off. I don't have a phone number for him any longer. I do send cards to him through his grandmother. He never responds.
I feel like I've failed my children so much. That I couldn't overcome their father--or something. I don't know if overcome is the word. I do feel my kids felt they had to chose their dad. I cheated on their father. He was wronged. And then he cut me out of their lives. And they felt like I abandoned them. I don't blame them. I wish I could fix it all. I wish I could fix their pain. I hoped so much I wouldn't be writing this anymore. That my children and I would be reunited. That the pain of missing years would melt away and be healed. But it's not.
I do have my oldest son back in my life. It is because he has Autism and Epilepsy and is not yet independent. His dad decided he was moving out of state with his new wife and their two young children. He told my oldest, who was living with him, it would be best if he did not come. My son was going to live with his grandmother. He has been close to her, my ex's mother--all these years, all three of my kids have. I think she largely stepped in to fill my role. She said he could live with her if he had a job. But by summer he still didn't have a job and his dad was moving in a few months, so at her urging he agreed to see me. We had been talking a little for several years already, but he was reluctant to see me. Now he lives with me part of the time and part of the time at his grandma's. It is such a relief to get to be with my son again. It also brings up a lot of sadness for all the missing years that have gone by. He is a young man now, not a teenager. He is more set in his ways. There is some hardness there... that is slowly softening and giving way. And the huge gaping hole in my heart isn't quite so big.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Mother and Child Reunion
Click a face to tag
High Resolution: waiting...
Click a face to tag
High Resolution: waiting...
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I just can t believe it's so
Though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I just can t believe it's so
Though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away
Friday, July 5, 2013
What Is Parental Alienation
(copied and pasted from Parental Alienation Awareness Organization's website)
http://www.paawareness.org/
Parental Alienation
Awareness Organization
(PAAO)
Did You Know That...
Parental Alienation is a form of Child Abuse?
Parental alienation (or Hostile Aggressive Parenting) is a group of behaviors that are damaging to children's mental and emotional well-being, and can interfere with a relationship of a child and either parent. These behaviors most often accompany high conflict marriages, separation or divorce.
These behaviors whether verbal or non-verbal, cause a child to be mentally manipulated or bullied into believing a loving parent is the cause of all their problems, and/or the enemy, to be feared, hated, disrespected and/or avoided.
Parental alienation and hostile aggressive parenting deprive children of their right to be loved by and showing love for both of their parents. The destructive actions by an alienating parent or other third person (like another family member, or even a well meaning mental health care worker) can become abusive to the child - as the alienating behaviors are disturbing, confusing and often frightening, to the child, and can rob the child of their sense of security and safety leading to maladaptive emotional or psychiatric reactions.
Most people do not know about Parental Alienation and Hostile Aggressive Parenting until they experience it. Parental Alienation Awareness is put forth to help raise awareness about the growth in the problem of targeting children and their relationship in healthy and loving parent/child bond.
We need your help to protect the innocent, ...the children.
We need your help to educate and make aware to the public the effects of Parental Alienation and Hostile Aggressive Parenting.
If you've been affected by Parental Alienation or know someone who has, or are a past victim of a parent who exhibited Hostile Aggressive Parenting, please write and tell us your story. We will add your story to our letters page for everyone around the world to publish in their local magazines, newspapers, etc. Please remember to keep your story to the telling of the confusion, loss, love, and heartache. Please refrain from excessive anger and verbally assaulting anyone in your letters.
The aim of the Awareness is to make the general public, judges, police officers, mental health care workers, child protection agencies, lawyers, as well as friends and family of the targeted children or their parents become aware of this growing problem.
With awareness comes education and understanding, and the power to stop the abuse of innocent children caught in the crossfire of people they love.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Happy 17th Birthday Daughter
To my Daughter:
You will be seventeen tomorrow. Seventeen years ago you came into this world. I gave birth to you on a Sunday evening at around seven, on the 30th of June. You were in my life for just eleven short years. Although that is not entirely true. You are in my life still. In my heart, in my thoughts. I see you everywhere in skinny, long-legged eleven year old girls.
Oh daughter, how could I know that you would be gone from me, and how could I have known to prevent it? You were such a mama's girl, still with your chunky childish writing and putting kitty stickers on your letter to me--presumably your own idea to write it-- that you wanted to live with your dad and itemizing your things that you wanted from home, from me.
You are still a skinny little girl to me with your hair thick as a horse's. But you are seventeen. I can't imagine what you are like now. How has life molded you with the hardships that you have endured? Are you still impulsive and inquisitive? Do you still have that impudent attitude, the way you would say, "MOM! Why do you walk like that? WHY do you talk like that?" Insisting that I buy you high heels at ten years old. (I did not buy you any.) Now you don't need high heels. I know you are almost six feet tall. Although I can't imagine it. I can't imagine having to look up at you as I talk to you.
I can only remember the little girl you were, still fairly unscarred from life. Still believing if you demanded it enough you would get what you wanted, and often times you did. I reminisce about the fun we had, being silly together, how we would just laugh and laugh. I remember playing Barbies with you when you were little. I would play the daughter and you would be the mom with your Barbie, and I would make the little girl yell and scream and throw tantrums. Laughing you would say, "Mom, don't make me pee my pants." And you would tell me while we were playing Barbies, "Ok, make her be nice now." But I would still make the little girl cry and whine, and giggling you would run out of the room to the bathroom.
Oh Daughter, what do I want to say to you? So many, many things. Six years worth. If I could I would go back and do everything in my life differently to prevent ever being away from you. To prevent you having to grow up without your mother. I am so sorry you've believed I don't want to be with you, and that I abandoned you, that I don't love you and am a dangerous person for you to be around. I know you have thought those things because you told a mutual acquaintance. And it rips my heart in two to know my daughter believes I don't love her and that I abandoned her. Please know I love you more than I can express and I never intended to be away from you, or for you to be away from me.
I have so many memories. Memories of you as a chubby, happy baby. Memories of Christmases and birthdays, and just ordinary days of us doing ordinary stuff. Together. That is what I have of you Daughter--memories. I don't have the present and I don't have the future. I have the past where you were in my life and I was your mother. I have hopes for you and wishes for myself. I hope that we are together again. That I get to be a mother to you.
And I have hopes for you that are just for you. That you are happy. That you are well-adjusted and secure with good self-esteem. That you like yourself and are your own best friend, and have dreams for the future. And that somewhere deep down you know you have a mother who loves you. More than anything.
You will be seventeen tomorrow. Seventeen years ago you came into this world. I gave birth to you on a Sunday evening at around seven, on the 30th of June. You were in my life for just eleven short years. Although that is not entirely true. You are in my life still. In my heart, in my thoughts. I see you everywhere in skinny, long-legged eleven year old girls.
Oh daughter, how could I know that you would be gone from me, and how could I have known to prevent it? You were such a mama's girl, still with your chunky childish writing and putting kitty stickers on your letter to me--presumably your own idea to write it-- that you wanted to live with your dad and itemizing your things that you wanted from home, from me.
You are still a skinny little girl to me with your hair thick as a horse's. But you are seventeen. I can't imagine what you are like now. How has life molded you with the hardships that you have endured? Are you still impulsive and inquisitive? Do you still have that impudent attitude, the way you would say, "MOM! Why do you walk like that? WHY do you talk like that?" Insisting that I buy you high heels at ten years old. (I did not buy you any.) Now you don't need high heels. I know you are almost six feet tall. Although I can't imagine it. I can't imagine having to look up at you as I talk to you.
I can only remember the little girl you were, still fairly unscarred from life. Still believing if you demanded it enough you would get what you wanted, and often times you did. I reminisce about the fun we had, being silly together, how we would just laugh and laugh. I remember playing Barbies with you when you were little. I would play the daughter and you would be the mom with your Barbie, and I would make the little girl yell and scream and throw tantrums. Laughing you would say, "Mom, don't make me pee my pants." And you would tell me while we were playing Barbies, "Ok, make her be nice now." But I would still make the little girl cry and whine, and giggling you would run out of the room to the bathroom.
Oh Daughter, what do I want to say to you? So many, many things. Six years worth. If I could I would go back and do everything in my life differently to prevent ever being away from you. To prevent you having to grow up without your mother. I am so sorry you've believed I don't want to be with you, and that I abandoned you, that I don't love you and am a dangerous person for you to be around. I know you have thought those things because you told a mutual acquaintance. And it rips my heart in two to know my daughter believes I don't love her and that I abandoned her. Please know I love you more than I can express and I never intended to be away from you, or for you to be away from me.
I have so many memories. Memories of you as a chubby, happy baby. Memories of Christmases and birthdays, and just ordinary days of us doing ordinary stuff. Together. That is what I have of you Daughter--memories. I don't have the present and I don't have the future. I have the past where you were in my life and I was your mother. I have hopes for you and wishes for myself. I hope that we are together again. That I get to be a mother to you.
And I have hopes for you that are just for you. That you are happy. That you are well-adjusted and secure with good self-esteem. That you like yourself and are your own best friend, and have dreams for the future. And that somewhere deep down you know you have a mother who loves you. More than anything.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
It Could Happen
I work with kids. It is both horrible and wonderful. It forces me to relive the experiences with my kids when they were the current ages of the children I work with. It compels me to remember when I am trying to forget.
It is too painful to relive the memories when my children have just vanished from my life completely. Children are never supposed to just be gone from your life. They are supposed to move out as they reach adulthood and live their lives, but never just vanish. They call, you call. Hopefully you hear what they are doing in their lives. I talk to mothers I work with whose kids are in college, and they talk about how they text back and forth. Some complain the kids don't get back to them right away. They always ask do I have kids. I say yes. I nod to what they say, but I have no input to give. I don't know what it's like to have a kid in college and text them. I am not about to go into Parental Alienation with every parent I meet. They would not understand. Those I have told don't understand. It is a stigma. Unspoken. 'What have you done that you have no relationship with your children? I could not live like that. Why aren't you dead?' In the first several years I really wanted to be dead.
I have not worked with teenagers. The oldest I saw my kids as teenagers was ages16 and 14. The beginning. I did not live all the years. Working with teenagers would make me sad too. All that did not happen.
A few select people I choose to tell. I cannot not relate my experience in raising children, and going through the stages, to working with kids. I am trying to let go. To accept what is. I cannot change it. I have tried. Living in pain, daily regretting the past, thinking if only I didn't get divorced this would have never happened. Changing the past in my mind in order to change the present.
I live in my mind, in the past so much. In my head I still do the things I last did with them: Pick them up from school, drive them home, make yogurt smoothies. They watch TV in their bedrooms, my daughter always watches Spongebob and Icarly, the boys play video games while eating their snacks, my middle son has his friends over who I make snacks for also and my son's friends like the smoothies more than he does. Then my daughter does her homework at the kitchen table as I start dinner. I make dinner in my sunny kitchen for a family of five. My oldest does his chore of walking the dogs. We have three. He walks each dog one by one, separately, around the block. He and his brother fight over who is going to pick up dog poop from the back yard and who is going to take out the trash. My daughter objects to her chores of cleaning her bird cage and cleaning her room. Her brother says, Why doesn't she have to do chores?!
I spend these times in my head, the last times I had with my kids. These memories play over and over. My last times with them. Frozen at ages 11, 14 and and 16. What are they like now? I have no idea. Changed. Young adults. My daughter, 16. No longer little children. I can't ask other parents, What's it like? Do your kids totally change? Are they still the same to you as when they were children? How would I even phrase that? Even friends I know who I still talk to, mothers whose daughters played with my daughter--I don't know how to put into words what I wonder. Part of me thinks it's best if I don't wonder. Sometimes I think it would be uncomfortable for them to talk to me about it. People don't know what to say. And people become afraid of losing their own children. Of even the thought. It could happen.They knew me as a mom at home, whose life revolved around her kids. It is possible. It could happen. These friends are also divorced from their husbands. But they got primary custody. Their husbands have partial custody. They share their children. It didn't happen to them.
I love working with children. And I hate it. I love discussing children and at the same time it is the most painful thing in the world to talk about. And I am surrounded by children every day. It is my job. Why? I don't know why. It is where I ended up. I enjoy working with kids. But it is a constant reminder of the loss of my own.
It is too painful to relive the memories when my children have just vanished from my life completely. Children are never supposed to just be gone from your life. They are supposed to move out as they reach adulthood and live their lives, but never just vanish. They call, you call. Hopefully you hear what they are doing in their lives. I talk to mothers I work with whose kids are in college, and they talk about how they text back and forth. Some complain the kids don't get back to them right away. They always ask do I have kids. I say yes. I nod to what they say, but I have no input to give. I don't know what it's like to have a kid in college and text them. I am not about to go into Parental Alienation with every parent I meet. They would not understand. Those I have told don't understand. It is a stigma. Unspoken. 'What have you done that you have no relationship with your children? I could not live like that. Why aren't you dead?' In the first several years I really wanted to be dead.
I have not worked with teenagers. The oldest I saw my kids as teenagers was ages16 and 14. The beginning. I did not live all the years. Working with teenagers would make me sad too. All that did not happen.
A few select people I choose to tell. I cannot not relate my experience in raising children, and going through the stages, to working with kids. I am trying to let go. To accept what is. I cannot change it. I have tried. Living in pain, daily regretting the past, thinking if only I didn't get divorced this would have never happened. Changing the past in my mind in order to change the present.
I live in my mind, in the past so much. In my head I still do the things I last did with them: Pick them up from school, drive them home, make yogurt smoothies. They watch TV in their bedrooms, my daughter always watches Spongebob and Icarly, the boys play video games while eating their snacks, my middle son has his friends over who I make snacks for also and my son's friends like the smoothies more than he does. Then my daughter does her homework at the kitchen table as I start dinner. I make dinner in my sunny kitchen for a family of five. My oldest does his chore of walking the dogs. We have three. He walks each dog one by one, separately, around the block. He and his brother fight over who is going to pick up dog poop from the back yard and who is going to take out the trash. My daughter objects to her chores of cleaning her bird cage and cleaning her room. Her brother says, Why doesn't she have to do chores?!
I spend these times in my head, the last times I had with my kids. These memories play over and over. My last times with them. Frozen at ages 11, 14 and and 16. What are they like now? I have no idea. Changed. Young adults. My daughter, 16. No longer little children. I can't ask other parents, What's it like? Do your kids totally change? Are they still the same to you as when they were children? How would I even phrase that? Even friends I know who I still talk to, mothers whose daughters played with my daughter--I don't know how to put into words what I wonder. Part of me thinks it's best if I don't wonder. Sometimes I think it would be uncomfortable for them to talk to me about it. People don't know what to say. And people become afraid of losing their own children. Of even the thought. It could happen.They knew me as a mom at home, whose life revolved around her kids. It is possible. It could happen. These friends are also divorced from their husbands. But they got primary custody. Their husbands have partial custody. They share their children. It didn't happen to them.
I love working with children. And I hate it. I love discussing children and at the same time it is the most painful thing in the world to talk about. And I am surrounded by children every day. It is my job. Why? I don't know why. It is where I ended up. I enjoy working with kids. But it is a constant reminder of the loss of my own.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Mother and Daughter
I'm leaving in a few days to fly to Washington to visit my mother. So my thoughts have been dwelling on my kids, especially my daughter. Of course, they do anyway. But contemplating a visit with my mom got me thinking of the relationship between a mother and daughter. And also the circumstances of my separation. Because within the first six months of my separation I went to stay with my mom.
Shortly after we separated, my husband stopped paying the mortgage on the house and did not put any money into our joint bank account. He did not follow temporary court-orders to continue paying the mortgage and pay me spousal. And my attorney told me, do not, under any circumstances, get a job. (With the assumption I would be awarded spousal support when the divorce became final, since for seventeen years I was a stay-at-home mom.)
After I had sold all my jewelry and used up my remaining credit to try to pay bills and stay fed, I panicked. I was in fear every day, because of the unpaid mortgage bills, that cops would come knocking on the door to kick me out. I panicked. And thinking I had no other option, I went to WA to stay with my mom.
My kids were already at their dad's after having said they wanted to live with him. I think of how they must have felt when I went to Washington. Abandoned, unloved, alone, afraid. How their dad would have used that against me, "See your mom doesn't love you. She doesn't care about you. She abandoned you. She left you and went to Washington." Put pain and anguish and loss into their hearts. I feel guilty thinking that by leaving I made them feel abandoned and unloved. How much pain and loss and fear I put into their hearts. Especially my daughter. Only eleven years old and a mommy's girl.
I will be in WA again, soon. My sister and her family live there, too, just a few miles from my mother. I will be there for both my niece's and my sister's birthdays.
I started thinking, when was the last time my daughter saw her cousin? My daughter and I went to see my sister soon after she gave birth. Just the two of us. I have photos of my daughter holding her days-old baby cousin, cradling her carefully in her arms, beaming into the camera. She was so excited to have a baby cousin, especially a girl cousin, being the only girl with brothers. My daughter was nine years old then. I didn't know I had only two years left with her.
My daughter and I had driven from the Portland airport together to her aunt's. My sister lived in a remote part of southern Oregon. It was about a five hour drive. My daughter brought her enormous stuffed horse with her on the trip. My sister had five horses that my daughter loved and got to ride when we visited. My daughter's stuffed horse's name was Coco and she was a Bay. On our long drive back to the airport, Coco became a TV newscaster horse. She talked about all kinds of things as a TV newscaster. She was also a weather reporter, and an interviewer, and she interviewed both my daughter and I. This was the entertainment for much of our five hour drive. My daughter as Coco was very engaging, funny and quirky. We laughed and laughed.
During the time at my sister's, my daughter and I had gone to a nearby lake. We brought a raft boat with oars, and a picnic lunch. My daughter refused to help oar and instead demanded that I get us around to different parts of the lake. So I oared and if I wasn't going as fast as she ordered, I would get into the lake and push the boat kicking my feet wildly. She enjoyed getting mommy to do her bidding. On shore we feed bread to the ducks. A large flock of happily quacking ducks gathered at our feet, but then geese came and scared the ducks away. My daughter didn't want to give the mean geese any food. I didn't either. So we began throwing rocks into the lake as if they were bread, and giggled deviously as the geese dove down to get the 'food.' My oldest son would have said that was not nice, and not respecting the geese's feelings. But my daughter and I found it most humorous to trick the geese.
I found a bracelet she made for me today while starting to pack for my trip. I know where all the things are that she made for me, but I try not to look at them because it always makes me cry. She made the bracelet from a jewlery kit. It is a black band, like a watch strap, and on it silver letters spell "MOM" with a heart on each side.
Shortly after we separated, my husband stopped paying the mortgage on the house and did not put any money into our joint bank account. He did not follow temporary court-orders to continue paying the mortgage and pay me spousal. And my attorney told me, do not, under any circumstances, get a job. (With the assumption I would be awarded spousal support when the divorce became final, since for seventeen years I was a stay-at-home mom.)
After I had sold all my jewelry and used up my remaining credit to try to pay bills and stay fed, I panicked. I was in fear every day, because of the unpaid mortgage bills, that cops would come knocking on the door to kick me out. I panicked. And thinking I had no other option, I went to WA to stay with my mom.
My kids were already at their dad's after having said they wanted to live with him. I think of how they must have felt when I went to Washington. Abandoned, unloved, alone, afraid. How their dad would have used that against me, "See your mom doesn't love you. She doesn't care about you. She abandoned you. She left you and went to Washington." Put pain and anguish and loss into their hearts. I feel guilty thinking that by leaving I made them feel abandoned and unloved. How much pain and loss and fear I put into their hearts. Especially my daughter. Only eleven years old and a mommy's girl.
I will be in WA again, soon. My sister and her family live there, too, just a few miles from my mother. I will be there for both my niece's and my sister's birthdays.
I started thinking, when was the last time my daughter saw her cousin? My daughter and I went to see my sister soon after she gave birth. Just the two of us. I have photos of my daughter holding her days-old baby cousin, cradling her carefully in her arms, beaming into the camera. She was so excited to have a baby cousin, especially a girl cousin, being the only girl with brothers. My daughter was nine years old then. I didn't know I had only two years left with her.
My daughter and I had driven from the Portland airport together to her aunt's. My sister lived in a remote part of southern Oregon. It was about a five hour drive. My daughter brought her enormous stuffed horse with her on the trip. My sister had five horses that my daughter loved and got to ride when we visited. My daughter's stuffed horse's name was Coco and she was a Bay. On our long drive back to the airport, Coco became a TV newscaster horse. She talked about all kinds of things as a TV newscaster. She was also a weather reporter, and an interviewer, and she interviewed both my daughter and I. This was the entertainment for much of our five hour drive. My daughter as Coco was very engaging, funny and quirky. We laughed and laughed.
During the time at my sister's, my daughter and I had gone to a nearby lake. We brought a raft boat with oars, and a picnic lunch. My daughter refused to help oar and instead demanded that I get us around to different parts of the lake. So I oared and if I wasn't going as fast as she ordered, I would get into the lake and push the boat kicking my feet wildly. She enjoyed getting mommy to do her bidding. On shore we feed bread to the ducks. A large flock of happily quacking ducks gathered at our feet, but then geese came and scared the ducks away. My daughter didn't want to give the mean geese any food. I didn't either. So we began throwing rocks into the lake as if they were bread, and giggled deviously as the geese dove down to get the 'food.' My oldest son would have said that was not nice, and not respecting the geese's feelings. But my daughter and I found it most humorous to trick the geese.
I found a bracelet she made for me today while starting to pack for my trip. I know where all the things are that she made for me, but I try not to look at them because it always makes me cry. She made the bracelet from a jewlery kit. It is a black band, like a watch strap, and on it silver letters spell "MOM" with a heart on each side.
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