The I Haplogroup that is. It appears as though much of the DNA on my mother’s side of the family stems from this Haplogroup, which diverged from Haplogroup IJ (or Middle Eastern) a few years ago, like 20,000, give or take 10,000 years. The more letters and numbers you have after your haplogroup, the more you can narrow down your genetic pool.
I’ve already determined that I’m a descendant of Niall of the Nine Hostages, ancient Irish Royalty. Now I also know I have Dinaric Slav DNA, meaning, my DNA is more compatible to Croats, Serbs, and Bosniaks. My other familial markers indicate an ethnic assocation of Italo-Celto-Anatolian and Basque/Gascon.
Some DNA evidence, that I haven’t seen yet, links our family to the Sephardic Jews and their travels from what is now Israel to Spain, where, after a while of being prosperous, they were told to either convert to Catholism and forgive their loans to Ferdinand and Isabella or you know, bad things would happen. They instead snuck over some mountain, (think 15th Century “Sound of Music”) and then on to France where they were ennobled but were eventually either killed or driven out for being Hugenots even though someone’s sister married Charlemagne’s brother or uncle or something. Thanks a lot, Charlie!
All this proves is that I’m a mutt who can be a royal pain in the ass.
Reading about the testing and the haplogroups and haplotypes and all the history and ethnic markers gives me a headache! Its good for a history lesson, that’s for sure. Very confusing in some ways.
Anyway, that’s about it from here. Ya’ll have a good one.
Life, that is. I’ve been so busy this week with everything. I have had downtime but that hasn’t included blogging or reading blogs or even answering e-mails. It just includes working, spending time with Nate, mowing grass, weedeating, cleaning house, and playing with the dog. I haven’t even seen my boyfriend that much, except at work, where we both tend to be too much. He worked half a day or so on his day off and I worked somewhat on my day off so it really isn’t much of a day off when you still go into work.
On top of that, yesterday, after getting into my trunk no less than three times, I managed to break my key off on turn # 4. This is bad, as my trunk key is also the key for the rest of the car. No one, except for maybe my dad, has another key to my car. My dad lives over an hour away.
I called the local dealership and found that they are so stringent about key codes that unless I bought the car from them, I didn’t, or had work done on the car there, I DID, then they couldn’t make me a key. Seems some car thieves/chopshoppers, had stolen a bunch of key codes and done some very bad things and now the FBI is very, very anal about keys.
To make matters worse, I had no ID, no money, no nothing, since it was all locked inside my car. I couldn’t get a hold of T-Bird and I didn’t really feel like bothering ETW or The Blonde Goddess to give me a ride over to the dealership. Instead, it being a beautiful day and me having a little time before I had to pick up Nate, or rather, just enough time to schlep to the dealership, get the key and schlep back before having to pick up Nate, I walked.
Its 3 1/2 miles. Luckily, I’m used to walking a lot and T-Bird was able to come and pick me up. She called me when I was at the foot of the bridge going over the river and said she would be over and just to wait at the dealership since her one working vehicle was in use. The guy was very nice and just asked that I bring my ID back because they have to keep my info on file for SEVEN YEARS. How crazy is that???
Good news is, he didn’t charge me for the key and my broken off key still works with the other broken off piece in the trunk so I can still open my trunk.
And that is how I spent part of my afternoon yesterday!
I still don’t really feel like blogging about Jeff. I know I need to write it down and document everything but I don’t feel like it. I worked a double Monday, a double yesterday and had to be back at 7:30 this morning for a delivery. I’m whooped.
However, I do feel the need to write about Nate and Chico. Nate is doing a bit better in school. Right now he’s borderline “not going to pass 7th grade.” I’ve been listening to a CD that Evil Twin’s Wife gave me about effective parenting skills and what to say and what not to say. Unfortunately after a day or two of effective parenting, Nate can already tell me what I’m going to say before I say it.
Its working, though, whether he knows what I’m going to say or not. So far he’s making a 100% in Algebra and a 100% in Basic Skills. I’m not sure how his other classes are going yet, but I’m in touch with his teachers.
Chico, poor, poor Chico, had a really rough day. Because he is so small and my house is not completely puppy-proofed yet, and he isn’t completely potty-trained, and I do have this pride of vicious felines, Chico is remanded to the bathroom while we are away. He has all the amenities of home. Food, water, man cave, pee paper, and his chew toys.
I noticed within a day or two that Chico was able to climb atop his man cave, which is actually the cat carrier. You know, the kind with the hard plastic sides and the aluminum crate front. The man cave nestles easily between my toilet and the vanity sink. I warned Nate that we had to make sure and CLOSE THE LID ON THE TOILET lest Chico get frisky and attempt a daring water escape via the sewage pipes.
Since I had to be at work so early, Jace was kind enough to rouse my child and cart him off to school for me. When I returned home to pick up Chico so I could take him to pick up Nate with me, I found him, yep, IN THE TOILET!
Poor. little. guy. Stuck in the toilet for who knows how long. Although I don’t believe there was any, um, private residue hanging out in there because both Jace and myself are fastidious flushers, it appeared as though Jace may have thrown a piece of toilet paper in there as I had to clean Chico off and he did have tiny bits of decimated TP clinging to his hindquarters.
Not to mention, he is a rather little dog with big ears. This means he lost a lot of body heat and was shivering and starving when I fished him out. He went straight to his food bowl and growled viciously at Tango and Luna when they dared to venture too close. I cleaned him up, then snuggled him up, and my normal rather bouncy, lively pup has slept ALL EVENING.
He’s probably just exhausted from the ordeal. I’m just very thankful that he didn’t drown and that I wasn’t stuck at work for 12 hours today. It appears as though he stayed up on the side of the bowl, as much out of the water as possible, although since I’m not certain how long he was in there, he may have dried off a lot before I got home.
Tomorrow is my day off so of course I’m going in to work. I told Owner Boss’s Wife that I would bring Chico in to say hello and then RM called and asked if I would do two deliveries. I need the money so I said I would. I was going to be there anyway, might as well get paid for it. Then I’m coming home and the world can kiss my ass for a few hours. I need some sleep!
Well, Nate decided he did NOT want a rat terrier like his dad. He’s been talking about getting a chihuahua. I didn’t find a chihuahua, but I did find a Chih-Weenie. That is a chihuahua/dachsund mix, who we named CHICO!
As you can see, he is rather small. His mother is a 3 lb. chihuahua and his father is a 9 lb. dachsund. He’s so small, he can walk under my cat’s bellies. I expected Macy and Luna to be the worst with him and they ended up being the best. It is rotten ass little man Jirachi who is the MOST jealous. Of course, he’s not the BABY of the family anymore.
He’s very sweet, hasn’t chewed anything up yet (of course, he has a VERY small mouth), and he was pretty well paper-trained when we got him, but he’s doing very, very well with that. Nate has taken over a lot of responsibility with him and they are fast friends.
Jeff did call and that’s another post in itself. It was ugly, but I expected it to be. But, now its over, at least that part of it. We’ll see what tomorrow holds. For now, we’re enjoying the newest addition to our family.
Well, if you want a new perspective, just blog about it and keep an open mind. I guess the most I can say about my last post is that I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. It is still a very difficult thing. Jeff called today and I didn’t answer the phone.
I really don’t want to talk to him while Nate is around. Truth is, I don’t want to talk to him at all. I know it will be the same ole shit. He either wants me to “help him” with something to worm his way in, or he wants to yell about Nate and how bad of a mother I am, or he wants to know if Nate is coming down this weekend. The answer to those scenarios are “no”, *click*, “no.”
However, I also don’t believe in just ignoring someone and hoping they will go away. I believe in facing them down. Nate’s school counselor suggested, well stated, that she didn’t believe Nate should be with him, but that it might be a good idea for us to have dinner together and try to keep the lines of communication open.
I thought that was pretty naive. She’s obviously never dealt with anyone like Jeff before and I don’t think he’s ever going to change. Change has to come from within, you have to want it, and you have to face all the things that have made you the way you are. If not, the thorns just keep festering and you keep dealing with them the same way you always have. Definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.
The one thing I have been concerned about is more for Nate’s well being than anything and that is that Jeff has three dogs. Two are rat terriers and one is an old snaggletooth mutt he got at the pound. Nate really loves those dogs and while I’ve been looking into different ways to socialize my son, I thought that maybe he did need a dog.
While I would LOVE to get a pound puppy, I’m afraid with my cats that I need a specific pound puppy. A real puppy, versus an elder dog. I really hate that. I would much prefer to get an older dog and something more along the lines of something a little larger than a housedog, but, given my schedule and so forth, a house dog that can use puppy pads on my long days would be preferable. Plus, I saw in our local Ad Bulletin that someone in one of my favorites places on Earth, Point Pleasant, has rat terriers for sale.
As we animal lovers know, sometimes the right pet can change your life. So, I’m going to call tomorrow and see about getting a little female, and then, we’ll see.
I appreciate all of your comments and they really made me think about how we all make mistakes and how we go about learning from those and moving on with a new purpose, or with our jaw’s set, as Zelda said. So, I’ve got my jaw set, and I know this is so because my TMJ is acting up. I just came off of two doubles and a short shift and I’m a little stressed with this whole Jeff thing. I was worried that he would call and he did, and I didn’t talk to him, so for now, we’re good.
One day at a time, sweet Mother, and may they keep getting better.
Oh yes, and every spare moment I’ve been watching Susan Boyle on YouTube. If you haven’t seen this lady singing on “Britain’s Got Talent” then where the hell have you been??? She has an absolutely amazing, stunning voice and she’s just a quaint character. She’s cute, in a matronly way, never been married, never been kissed and everyone thought she was some kind of joke. Well, she is not a joke. What a phenomenal singer. I cry everytime I listen to it. Enjoy.
I received a rather nice e-mail from a lady only identified as “Sandy G.” Appears as though Sandy landed at Anything Goes from another blogroll and has since decided to read my archives and reached that point where I started password protecting some of my posts and e-mailed me for the password.
She said she found me honest and inspiring. The honest part I get. The inspring part had me scratching my head. I responded by saying that if you find me honestly saying, “I fucked up! Here’s how I going to fix it!” then hey, yeah, I’m inspiring!
So, let’s be honest, I fucked up. I fucked up in a big way. I should have stopped Nate from seeing his father a long time ago. I’m a fairly intelligent person. I’ve been writing this blog for almost 5 years now. Anyone with two eyes and knack for reading comprehension can tell you… we’ve been in a cycle for all of those almost five years, until recently.
Actually, that cycle goes back even further, just not as bad. When the psychologists tell you that abuse gets worse, not better, with time, believe them. They really are telling you the truth.
When you find yourself recognizing the cycle of abuse – (tension/build up – abuse – honeymoon/calm) – it really is happening to you.
When they say the cycle becomes shorter in duration, its the truth.
When an abuser says they’re sorry and it will never happen again. It will happen again. I guarantee you, it will happen again.
It will happen to you.
It will happen to your children.
It will happen. Period.
And I know, that honeymoon period, its so seductive, so very seductive and hopeful, because you really believe THIS time, it won’t happen again.
And the abuser doesn’t just hurt your children, you hurt your children too.
I hurt Nate by allowing this to go on. Regardless of the steps that I have taken over the last two years, maybe before then, I still allowed him to be hurt. There’s not an excuse under the sun for that.
So, I stopped talking to Jeff when he was drunk. So, he stopped seeing Nate when he was drunk. So what? Did that really change who he was when he was sober? No.
And as Nate and his sister have both taught me: The good parts, the good memories, they don’t make up for all of the shit. Nothing makes up for the shit. Nothing. It poisons them. Period. And they loose their faith in you to protect them. And they loose faith in themselves.
So, that’s where I’m at. I have a brilliant child who is failing school, has no self-confidence, no self-esteem, can’t or won’t trust himself to make friends in school, won’t join the basketball team, won’t join his classmates on field trips, and enjoys lunch detention so he doesn’t have to deal with being social with his classmates.
And, not to knock Sandy, but I don’t find that very inspiring. I find that pretty fucking sad. Jeff didn’t get us where we are today. I did.
So what if he went to AA? He quit.
So what if he has psychological problems and he’s on medication and he’s supposedly going to counseling? So fucking what? Its obviously NOT WORKING!
So fucking what about HIM? This isn’t about HIM and HIS school and HIS plans and HIS issues, its about NATE, NATE, NATE, NATE!!!
He always hated that. He wanted all of the attention. He didn’t want to have to share any attention with his children. I can’t tell you the last time he called Nate’s cellphone to talk to Nate about Nate. He called MY cellphone, asked about Nate, then talked about himself for the next 20-25 minutes. Narcissistic fuck.
Well, that means I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. Obviously the discipline I’ve been doling out hasn’t been working so I’m going to have to change horses mid-stream. I have a lot of work to do with my son. I’ll let you know how that works out.
I just had a long ass post about how I just had to spend another $495 on my car (for a grand total of $806 in the past week), how Nate managed to fail more classes than ever before because he didn’t turn his homework in, how his teachers didn’t update the online site to let me know this until AFTER grades came out, and how some ASSHOLE has to have his $77,000 bank account balance told to him over the loudspeaker at the fucking bank, holding up traffic, and wasting my fucking time, and fucking WordPress eats it!!!
How about how after having my ass handed to me at the mechanics (fuel pump went out folks), and Nate’s bad grades, I didn’t really have much to eat, as in, less in a whole day what I normally eat at one meal, and then I had a delivery for the restaurant this morning so I missed family meal, and then it was really busy so I didn’t have a chance to eat and I’m so fucking hungry that I’m dizzy.
My people, I eat a lot of food. I eat so much food other people hate me. This is because I turn into Regan from The Exorcist when I don’t eat. I HAVE to eat and FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I WORK IN A FUCKING RESTAURANT!!!! Finally, I grab some leftover junk food from family meal and scarf it down along with Mountain Dew, which I NEVER drink. I only drink three things: Water, coffee, and booze. Drinking an occasional soda is a luxury for me. Today, it was a necessity.
Even after the junk food and the MD, I still wasn’t feeling great, but I still had to go pick up Nate from school, run back to the restaurant to get my paycheck (they don’t release them until 4 o’clock), go to the bank, and pay off my mechanic. Nate was thankful when we stopped to eat because I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around.
Plus, tips at the restaurant today were mostly not what I’m used to. I’m sure its because I was drooling on their food. Torture, pure torture.
Well, someone make sure and send me an e-mail… I had 25,999 the last time I checked. Do not adjust your screen, that is really the number of e-mails I have backlogged. I only have 19,136 that I haven’t read. Quick now, be #26,000!!!!
* Nate got in trouble in school for breathing on someone. No, really, literally, he breathed in someone’s face. I think this is disgusting and told him so.
* Judy is whipping my butt in Lexulous. I don’t really know what I’m doing.
* I joined Twitter. I don’t know what I’m doing on it either, but I joined!
* I need to clean out my fridge.
* Nate is turning into a grumpy young man. He has stretch marks on his legs from his growth spurt. His feet are huge compared to the rest of him. He’s 5’1″, weighs 98 lbs. and he wears a size 9 1/2 mens in his shoe. Comparatively, his foot is ginormous. Not surprised. He came out with big feet.
* They fired one of the servers day before yesterday. I had worked a double on Monday so our bartender could have the day off and then she picked up my Tuesday, so I would have had Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday off, but it was not meant to be. I picked up Thursday after they fired the other server.
* The server they fired was not Rosie, the Broadway Musical gay guy I work with. I was happy that Maribee picked today up instead of him. He’s nice, but gah, is he talkative. And really, its about shit I don’t care to discuss because I really don’t care that he’s an atheist, or that he’s gay, or whether or not gays should be allowed to marry (don’t care, go ahead and get married!).
Honestly, gay rights is not at the forefront of my thoughts. I think they should have the same rights as everyone else. That pretty much covers it all, at least, you would think.
There is an interesting court case going on right now in WV about a lesbian couple who petitioned to adopt a child they have been caring for since birth. The child was born addicted and they took this child home from the hospital, the parental rights of the parents have been terminated, and they petitioned to adopt said child. However, lesbian and gay couples cannot adopt in the State of West Virginia. A single lady can, but not a gay/lesbian couple.
So, the judge ordered the child removed and then the child was put back with them. The child has bonded with her mothers, bonded with the other children in the home, and the court was just stupid. If they’re good enough to be foster parents, they’re good enough to be parents. No, I don’t care what their sexual orientation is.
I hope they get that mess straightened out and we don’t make the national news again for being ignorant. Barbie Bill anyone? Ugh.
* Things are working out well in picking up Nate from school. Monday he rode the bus to T-Bird’s and the rest of this week I’ll be able to pick him up myself.
* I did speak with Nate’s father yesterday. It did not go well. It will never go well again. I’m drained.
* Nine weeks to go for Nate’s 7th grade schoolin’. Please, let us make it another 9 weeks. Please, Nate, get your butt in gear and pass the 7th grade.
* Nate is going to be starting counseling soon.
* Nate has a doctor’s appointment next week.
* Nate has to have braces.
* Nate = $$$$$$$$
* I’m going to need a new car.
* New car = $$$$$$$
* And people wonder why I work so much!!!!!
I think I need a nap.
My sparkling white shoulders got a liberal dose of sunlight today. Nate, my dad, and I went morel hunting. That’s molly moojers to all you Appalachian folks. We found 132. Last year, my dad found over 3500 during the season. Rightfully so, and at $10 an ounce (dried), my dad is very protective over his mushroom patch. He put up pink ribbons over the roadway leading to the patch so the loggers wouldn’t disturb them.
Guess what? They disturbed them. Morels grow from a spawn under the ground which can stretch for quite a distance and while they need warm temperatures and some sunlight, they actually grow better in heavily wooded areas, especially around the towering poplar trees, beside of rotting logs, and will push their way through heavy leaf cover. My dad filed a claim with the logging company. If he doesn’t get any mushrooms out of the area where they logged, he could be compensated. Its almost the equivelant of disturbing a ginseng patch.
Nate was not so enthusiastic about morel hunting and finally wandered off the mountain. My dad and I combed the road and mountainside from several angles. When I say “road” I mean a gas road, or just an old logging road that is still passable but covered with grass and leaves. We found several just by walking down the road, several sticking out of the hillside, and some big black ones that I spotted from several yards away.
When morel hunting, you really have to work at it. You have to go over the same area because they will be hiding in the leaves or behind logs and if you’re going up the mountain you may miss them, but find them on your way back down. My dad would be above me and say, “Whooo, I see one, right there, five inches ahead of your stick.”
From my angle I couldn’t see it, but from his angle he could. At one point my dad was bending down to pick one up and I said, “Dad, there’s one right beside of your shoe.”
My dad is funny. Everytime he found one he would say, “Whooo.” For the record, that’s about 75 “Whoos” today. Often he would have several “whoos” in row because once you find one, you two or three or seven, like we did today.
Even though its early in the season and the black morels fruit first, I did find a few of the grey morels, which fruit second. Yellow morels fruit last in the season. A word of caution, if you think you’ve got a morel but there are wisps of cottony fibers in it, DON’T EAT IT! Morels are completely hollow on the inside. Always, always, always, soak your morels and cut them in half before eating them.
I stole this picture, as you can tell. But, a lot of the morels we found look just like this one. We roll them in cornmeal, fry ’em and serve them with pinto beans and cornbread. YUM!
My dad and I had a great time and I’m looking forward to going again very soon, hopefully this week. However, it was 79* today and its supposed to be 29* by tomorrow night with snow showers. This really sucks. Right now there’s a big thunderstorm heading in so I have to go close the windows and get ready for bed. Have a great night.
When I am calm (and verbose, this is a long one). If you ever encounter me in a situation where I should be spitting nails, gouging people’s eyes out with a hot poker, and shouting obscenities with my head spinning around yet I am popping pistachios instead of Xanax and eating ice cream, well, you can then say, “Poke her, she’s done.”
Most people, I think, would prefer that I be the obscenity spewing, head spinning, nail spitting crazy bitch, because, you get a real feel of where I’m coming from. Pistachio popping and ice cream eating normally leaves people wondering what the hell is going on. Maybe that’s why I do it. Its the secretive dark side.
Then again, it could be because I prefer life on THIS side of the iron bars.
Honestly, its because I’m so angry that I’ve had to shut down in order to prevent serious bloodshed, nail spitting, eye gouging… etc. etc. It makes me exceptionally clear-headed and focused.
It all started with Nate lying to his dad about his homework. Now, if Nate didn’t lie (by omission – “I can’t remember if I have homework” or “I’m not sure what homework I have”) then I would take his temperature because my son is sick if he isn’t trying to dodge homework. This is Nate, this is Nate on school, 36 weeks out of the year.
Nate didn’t actually lie to his dad, he told his dad the truth, then lied to his uncle and his uncle’s girlfriend who he was staying with while Jeff was at school and I was at work. Naturally, and understandably, this made Jeff very angry when he returned from school.
I called up and Jeff told me what was going on, then said it was probably a good thing I was coming to pick him up, then called back and asked that I not because Nate should finish his homework there first. That sounded reasonable and actually a bit mature. However, I was also concerned given Jeff’s short, short fuse with dealing with Nate on homework.
I then received a “distress” TM from Nate. It said, “Help.” This could mean many things. I believe that a parent should have authority over their children without interference from the other parent, especially given our situation where we live in two different households. I wasn’t going to rush down and “save” Nate simply because his dad was being a hardass about him doing his homework.
Nate shouldn’t have lied. He should have done his homework. Tough love is just that – tough love.
Following the third distress TM, I thought better of any nobility and called Jeff. He seemed to be holding it together fairly well. I could tell he was getting more agitated and he bitched me out because he said this was so aggravating and he didn’t need the aggravation of dealing with Nate and his homework. Surprise! That’s part of being a parent to Nate. To any child, aggravation and all. He then backpedaled and said that he was as much to blame because he doesn’t regularly and consistently check Nate’s bookbag, binder, or assignment book.
I thought this was a step in the right direction. Instead of just blaming me, he was shouldering some of the responsibility for the aggravations of child-rearing. Things sounded rather chill, so I hung up and cleaned out the junk in my car.
Jeff called back and all hell broke loose. He was on a rampage. I started the car and began the short, but ever so long drive to pick up Nate. I can’t verbatim tell you the entire conversation. The most important part for me was, “Since I can’t euthanize Nate, I’m going to kill these damn dogs, because he loves these damn dogs and I don’t need the aggravation!” He repeated over and over that he was going to kill his dogs (two Rat Terriers and an old mutt) and then was going to take pictures of their decomposing bodies laying over a hillside as birds picked their eyes out.
People, I can’t make this shit up.
At some point I called him a sick, insane fucker and told him he had finally dropped off the deep end and what the fuck was he thinking? I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t even form coherent sentences at one point. My thoughts were with my son and my heart was heavy, especially knowing what he and I had experienced with the loss of our pets two years ago. It made the situation even more heinous and evil, if that’s even possible.
Oddly, I had no fear, no knotting sensation in the pit of my stomach, I wasn’t trembling, crying, or even yelling. I walked into the lair of the viper without nary a worry in my heart about what would happen or what I would say. I didn’t say anything, I just looked at him while he spewed hateful degrading words at me and all I could think was, “Wow, so that’s what you really think of yourself.” I just looked at him and shook my head, gathered my child, what things I could, and we left.
Nate gave me a rundown of what had happened and the homework he had finished, which really wasn’t supposed to be finished until the following day, and then the letter he wrote his dad begging him not to kill the dogs. I was very calm, logical, and methodical as I pointed out to Nate that whatever happened with the dogs was not his fault, that his dad was using his feelings to manipulate, control, and harm him and that what he was saying and doing was completely unacceptable.
This really doesn’t help when your child is sobbing uncontrollably.
Nate’s sister was waiting for us when we got home and of course he told her everything that happened. Her mom looked at me and said, “You know, you can’t let him go back.” I said, “I know.” She asked me, “Why are you so calm?!?”
I said, “Because I’ve made up my mind.”
I had long talk with Nate about everything, including his lying to his uncle and the appropriate consequences, and about his dad and what his dad said etc.
Nate told me, “I bet he shows up at school tomorrow.”
I told Nate that if he did and tried to take Nate off of school property he was not to go anywhere with him and he was to call me.
The following day I went to pick Nate up from school and he came out and said, “I told you he would show up.”
What had happened was that Jeff has sent me a TM a little after 1:00 in the afternoon. I recognized it as a forwarded message and I knew it was from Nate’s sister. I can tell almost verbatim what it said: I never want to see your face again. You are an asshole. I can’t believe what you do to your children.
I knew that she had gone home from school early that day because she was upset over this situation. I also knew that Nate’s phone was at my house. Jeff had gone to the school on the pretext that Nate and his sister were TMing each other during school hours.
Whether he was trying to cover his ass or felt true remorse he told Nate’s Vice-Principal and school counselor what he had said to Nate the previous night. I asked Nate what happened after that and he said, “They agreed with him.” WTF?!?
I talked to my friend Juan later than night and he said, “It doesn’t matter if they agree with him or not, it only matters if they will write it down and testify to it in court.”
I let T-Bird do all the yelling, nail spitting, and obscenity spewing and so forth over the very idea that anyone would agree with this man. I still remained calm.
I went with Nate to school the following morning and when I walked into the office I saw his counselor. She looked up and said, “Oh, let me get another cup of coffee.” I’m sure she was waiting for me. Its not like we don’t know each other. I’ve been to the school several times about Nate. Luckily, we have a good relationship.
I got the ball rolling by telling her that Nate had told me that Jeff had been there and that he had told them what he had said to Nate and that they agreed with it. Her eyes flew open and she said, “NOT AT ALL!” (Note: When Nate is under severe distress he remembers about every fifth word in the wrong order. He said he was so sick to his stomach he thought he might throw up. I can’t even begin to imagine the stress he was under at the time, which is exactly why I went in to find out the whole story.)
She then went on to describe what all had happened, including having a counseling session with Nate and his dad regarding appropriate discipline and obviously after Nate left, she had talked further with Jeff and he had cried and said he was going to call his counselor and he didn’t understand why he got so angry and why he can’t control his temper.
I filled her in on Jeff. The alcoholism, the PTSD, the police department, on and on. I told her that I recognized the cycle we were in, that I had taken steps to break that cycle (re: hanging up when he was drunk, not letting Nate around him until he was sober, etc.), but, it wasn’t enough. I told her that regardless of his problems that he was not my concern. My concern had been torn between trying to encourage Jeff to deal with his problems, facilitating a relationship between him and Nate, and working with Nate on everything.
No more. My only concern is Nate. Nate is 12, his father is 44. Nate is my son and I’m here to protect and nuture him, not subject him to any more insanity under the guise of fairness and relationship building. Jeff is dead weight. He is severely mentally ill and has ruined every relationship in his life.
I’m not saying that Nate will never see Jeff again. I’m certain that he will, but it will be under completely different circumstances. Jeff may or may not be getting help. He may have scared himself or he may just be looking for pity. I’ve given up caring what he says or what he promises. Honestly, he’ll have to let me talk to his counselor, who I’ve known since grade school, before I’ll let him have Nate overnight or even be alone with him.
It will be a long time. It may never be until Nate is old enough and emotionally strong enough to walk away on his own two feet if his dad starts being emotionally and verbally abusive.
I don’t think he’ll fight me on it, then again, I didn’t think he would walk into Nate’s school and admit what a crazy fuck he is either. However, by doing so, regardless of the reason, he gave me what I needed. Independent adult verification of what he did, from his own mouth.
Before, all I had was my word and the word of my 12 year old and his sister. I’ll also be getting some electronics to be able to record conversations for future reference. Just in case.
And so you know, I have not spoken to Jeff since I hung the phone up last Tuesday. I don’t plan on speaking to him until this coming Tuesday and that will be to retrieve what belongings Nate has at his house. If he declines, he declines. It doesn’t matter to me. I would prefer not talking to him at all. I don’t want to talk to him, I want nothing to do with him. I may not. I may leave the clothes, buy Nate a new Nintendo DS and a new Pokemon Platinum and call it a wash.
Yeah, I may just do that. I know its too much to hope that he will just be too ashamed to call. I know its too much to hope that he saw the finality in the look on my face. Oh, I know too well, it wasn’t. It never will be. But none of that matters anymore.
What matters is helping my son have healthy relationships, building friendships, building his self-esteem, and overcoming the pain in constructive and positive ways. That’s all I can do.