well, it's 3am. and i'm up cuz i have to start cooking in an hour. i gotta make thaksgiving early cuz i gotta work tonight. but thats ok.
i truly am thankful today. i am thankful we just celebrated our third anniversary in our co-op. If we can stick it out 12 more years we'll own it, lol. I'm thankful my baby girl is brilliant. she already knows half her alphabet-and by half i mean at least 15 letter outta 26. She's smart. and she's the only person I know that can read her mother so well. I'm thankful for my boy. He's beautiful and big and healthy and I love just holding him-and unlike trin at that age-he actually lets me hold and cuddle him. I'm thankful he's so mobile and goes up, down, and here to there with such ease. And I'm thankful that I can look at him with tears in my eyes or a scowl on my face and his response is the same big gummy grin and maybe a throaty laugh thrown in there just for good measure. I'm thankful that, even though nina and jessie aren't doind so well right now, that they are still a major and amazing part of my LIFE. They are still my beautiful babies and have beautiful thoughts and beautiful minds. And I'm thankful that through all of the
HAPS AND
PAS that they have been through-they are still strong, still troopers, and I am so proud of them for that.
I'm thankful for the crappy job at the prestigious institution I've been lucky enough to keep for the last 8 months or so. The shift work sleep disorder has driven me almost mad, but it's keep our house heated and lit, and kept clothes on our back and food in our tummys since I had my boy so I'm grateful.
There's I shit ton of other stuff that I'm thankful for-like that we WON our 15lb turkey in a raffle at the liquor store. But I cn see your eyes starting to gloss over. I'll save my thanks for the dinner table. I just wanna add that I'm thankful to all of you for listening to my rambling so regularly. I get almost 50 blog hits a day whether I acutally write that day or not and thats AMAZING to me. That peopleare actually interested in what I'm saying. This blog is like a diary to me. I bare my soul for the whole world to see-something I never actually do in my ohysical life. I'm controlled. I'm reserved. But I let it all come out on this screen and people respond to it. My readers KEEP growing and I hope my words are able to touch at least of few of you and make you laugh and keep you going. So, thank you for that.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!!!!!!
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Well, let's say this then
I am a stepmother.
I am neither evil nor wicked.
I do not make my stepchildren do household chores while my biochildren attend balls and parties.
I have never asked my husband to leave my stepchildren in the woods so they can be eaten by a witch.
I have never attempted to poison my stepchildren with fruit.
I love my stepchildren. I do. Truly and with all my heart.
But. I am hated, nonetheless. By their mother, by their stepfather, and by them occaisionally.
Why? I don't know. I'm not inclined to ask. It's difficult to get a straight answer out of any of the three parties mentioned above.
I'm a member of quite a few support groups, forums, and websites, enough to know that I am in the minority. Many of the forums on the sites have dozens of topics titled "I HATE MY STEPCHILDREN". Women just wanting their stepchildren to go away. Not exist. They wish the children would stay with their biomothers at all times.
I can't relate. I love my stepchildren. I want them around as much as possible. I know that during this court process that this is the part that is making their biomom give us so much trouble. If it was just Verlander that they were gonna be spending time with-she would be putting up much less of a fight. She'd be more inclined to allow the time to be fair and equitable. She doesn't want them to spend time with me. This isn't something I've conjured out of nothing. I've been informed they are not supposed even to go to the store with me unless Verlander is coming along. She doesn't want me around them.
Why?
As I said-I'm not an evil stepmother. I'm a good one and I think that is the problem. She doesn't want to lose them and she believes I mean to steal them away. The more I love them and the more they love me the more threatened she feels. In her mind Verlander could never take her place but I am a threat.
There's no way to change her mind on this. I know. But I wanted to go on record as saying that it is not an easy thing to be a stepmother. Your stepkids don't always like you, their mother never does, you're expected to immediately acdcept and feel comfortable with these children in your life, in your world, and if you don't something is wrong with YOU and if they choose not to accept you then something is ALSO wrong with YOU. But I've done it. Accepted, embraced, loved. And omg-how many posts have i read where stepmothers are crying about how they can NEVER love their stepchild as much as their biochild because of the BOND they share with their biochild through blood. I don't believe it. Not even a little bit. Being a mother is more than blood. Love is more than a genetic connection. And I treat ALL of the children the same, age-appropriate, but the same. And my love for all of them runs at the same depth.
So there.
I'm sorry Cinderella, Hansel & Gretel, and Snow White had it so bad-but I didn't do it. I'm one of the good guys.
I am neither evil nor wicked.
I do not make my stepchildren do household chores while my biochildren attend balls and parties.
I have never asked my husband to leave my stepchildren in the woods so they can be eaten by a witch.
I have never attempted to poison my stepchildren with fruit.
I love my stepchildren. I do. Truly and with all my heart.
But. I am hated, nonetheless. By their mother, by their stepfather, and by them occaisionally.
Why? I don't know. I'm not inclined to ask. It's difficult to get a straight answer out of any of the three parties mentioned above.
I'm a member of quite a few support groups, forums, and websites, enough to know that I am in the minority. Many of the forums on the sites have dozens of topics titled "I HATE MY STEPCHILDREN". Women just wanting their stepchildren to go away. Not exist. They wish the children would stay with their biomothers at all times.
I can't relate. I love my stepchildren. I want them around as much as possible. I know that during this court process that this is the part that is making their biomom give us so much trouble. If it was just Verlander that they were gonna be spending time with-she would be putting up much less of a fight. She'd be more inclined to allow the time to be fair and equitable. She doesn't want them to spend time with me. This isn't something I've conjured out of nothing. I've been informed they are not supposed even to go to the store with me unless Verlander is coming along. She doesn't want me around them.
Why?
As I said-I'm not an evil stepmother. I'm a good one and I think that is the problem. She doesn't want to lose them and she believes I mean to steal them away. The more I love them and the more they love me the more threatened she feels. In her mind Verlander could never take her place but I am a threat.
There's no way to change her mind on this. I know. But I wanted to go on record as saying that it is not an easy thing to be a stepmother. Your stepkids don't always like you, their mother never does, you're expected to immediately acdcept and feel comfortable with these children in your life, in your world, and if you don't something is wrong with YOU and if they choose not to accept you then something is ALSO wrong with YOU. But I've done it. Accepted, embraced, loved. And omg-how many posts have i read where stepmothers are crying about how they can NEVER love their stepchild as much as their biochild because of the BOND they share with their biochild through blood. I don't believe it. Not even a little bit. Being a mother is more than blood. Love is more than a genetic connection. And I treat ALL of the children the same, age-appropriate, but the same. And my love for all of them runs at the same depth.
So there.
I'm sorry Cinderella, Hansel & Gretel, and Snow White had it so bad-but I didn't do it. I'm one of the good guys.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Whoa
I'm sitting here and thinking.
Thinking of my daughter. And that is not such a remarkable thing. I think of her all the time.
But I have have been taking care of people for so long, that for a majority of that time I think of her as just another responsibility.
Halloween just past, and it marks an anniversary of a very tumultuous time for me. About 9 years ago, days before Halloween, my mother had my father arrested for something he didn't do. I can still here him screaming my name. He wasn't crying or calling out for her or his mother or anyone else when he was in the back of that car. He was calling for ME. He was crying. I remember the tears running down his face. So clearly. Crying and calling my name. And I couldn't go to him. I was stuck on my front porch looking at him in the car and hearing him all the way from the street. In his desperation he kicked the back window out of the police car. He called to me. Crying, screaming my name. "ashley. sweetie." i don't remember anything else he was saying. just calling "ashleeeeeeeeeeeeeey" " sweeeeetieeeee!!!!!!!!!!" And after he kicked the window out I ran. I remember the beads of sweat standing out all over his face and nose from the exertion. I remember the tears running down his face. The police had to call a paddy wagon to take him away. And when all the police were finally gone. I remember my mother on the porch leaving, saying she would take her boys but the little "whores" could stay. And then she left. And it was me and my sister. And I was wholly responsible for her. Just me. And a day or so later I realized it was Halloween. And while I had been keeping us clothed and fed-it was important that my little sister go trick or treating on Halloween. I dressed her in one of my old costumes. I believe it was a cheerleader. And took her up and down the four blocks nearest to my house. I carried no container, wore no costume, asked for no candy. I took my little sister trick or treating because it was Halloween and it she was my RESPONSIBILITY.
I forget sometimes, that Trinity is not only my responsibility, with the title of "daughter". But that she is my physical offspring. She is my firstborn. Not even her father can claim that of her. She is my FIRSTBORN child. Mine.
I made her. Out of nothing. I grew her in my body for 41 weeks. My body made everything about her. Her shining eyes. Her contagious smile. Her button nose. I successfully birthed her after 18 hours of hard, painful, mostly unmedicated labor. Birthed her whole-10 fingers, 10 toes. 19.5 inches and almost 8 lbs of pure, perfect Trin.
And all of the sudden it comes over me. That she is mine. I am her only mother. The only one ever. I made her. I took care of her-before she was even born. I quit smoking, quit drinking, quit any and all drugs except for tylenol for the sake of her well being. Choked down a giant prenatal vitamin and an iron supplement on top of it everyday just for her. All these memories overtake me. Holding her for the first time, looking at her, trying to focus on such a little face without my glasses. Kissing her for the first time. Her crawling. Her first words. Her first steps. Her in her first real halloween costume, we didn't even bother taking a 14 month old trick or treating. we took pictures and that was that. I think of her Cheshire cat grin now and remember how she didn't get teeth until she was nearly two years old and how worried I was. I blamed myself. "My stupid body", I thought "didn't even make her a set of teeth! What the hell is she gonna do without teeth!" I remember her passing out in the back seat as I made door to door deliveries for hospice for hours on end after I lost my job and van went away. Her in her Christmas outfit on Christmas eve drinking her bottle and waking up with her, just her, on Christmas morning to open presents "from Santa" my wonderful, WONDERFUL friends were nice enough to buy since I was absolutely flat broke. I remember leaving her for 3 WHOLE DAYS with someone for the first time since Beitris, before them I had never been away from her for a couple hours and it was almost a traumatic experience. But we needed money for rent and food and I had to do it and when I finally got my baby back in my arms......oh. I remember those days. Just me and Trin. Just us. And it seemed like the whole world was against us. The car accident that destroyed our only working vehicle. She didn't cry right away, she was in shock, but she HOWLED later. And it seemed like whenever we NEEDED food it would snow a mile high and make the stroller impossible to push.
She's been with me through so much, and I have always taken care of her. But she is not just a responsibility like my brothers and sister are when my parents aren't well enough to care for them or like my parents are when they are not well enough to take care of themselves.
SHE IS MY DAUGHTER.
AND THAT IS FUCKING AMAZING.
I have a daughter. Trinity Nerea Thompkins. That's her name. I picked it.
She's my daughter. Mine. No one else can claim to be her mother in word or in deed. I take good care of her but that is to be expected-and her only purpose by me She's a good girl. She's sweet and she's smart and she tells her father that he is her best friend, ALWAYS-and I act jealous but it doesn't bother me one bit. Inside I am bursting with pride. My little one has picked the same person to be her best friend that I have-and that means I am doing SOMETHING right.
God-I love her. I million of her smiles flash through my head. She's so amazing.
And she's mine.
Thinking of my daughter. And that is not such a remarkable thing. I think of her all the time.
But I have have been taking care of people for so long, that for a majority of that time I think of her as just another responsibility.
Halloween just past, and it marks an anniversary of a very tumultuous time for me. About 9 years ago, days before Halloween, my mother had my father arrested for something he didn't do. I can still here him screaming my name. He wasn't crying or calling out for her or his mother or anyone else when he was in the back of that car. He was calling for ME. He was crying. I remember the tears running down his face. So clearly. Crying and calling my name. And I couldn't go to him. I was stuck on my front porch looking at him in the car and hearing him all the way from the street. In his desperation he kicked the back window out of the police car. He called to me. Crying, screaming my name. "ashley. sweetie." i don't remember anything else he was saying. just calling "ashleeeeeeeeeeeeeey" " sweeeeetieeeee!!!!!!!!!!" And after he kicked the window out I ran. I remember the beads of sweat standing out all over his face and nose from the exertion. I remember the tears running down his face. The police had to call a paddy wagon to take him away. And when all the police were finally gone. I remember my mother on the porch leaving, saying she would take her boys but the little "whores" could stay. And then she left. And it was me and my sister. And I was wholly responsible for her. Just me. And a day or so later I realized it was Halloween. And while I had been keeping us clothed and fed-it was important that my little sister go trick or treating on Halloween. I dressed her in one of my old costumes. I believe it was a cheerleader. And took her up and down the four blocks nearest to my house. I carried no container, wore no costume, asked for no candy. I took my little sister trick or treating because it was Halloween and it she was my RESPONSIBILITY.
I forget sometimes, that Trinity is not only my responsibility, with the title of "daughter". But that she is my physical offspring. She is my firstborn. Not even her father can claim that of her. She is my FIRSTBORN child. Mine.
I made her. Out of nothing. I grew her in my body for 41 weeks. My body made everything about her. Her shining eyes. Her contagious smile. Her button nose. I successfully birthed her after 18 hours of hard, painful, mostly unmedicated labor. Birthed her whole-10 fingers, 10 toes. 19.5 inches and almost 8 lbs of pure, perfect Trin.
And all of the sudden it comes over me. That she is mine. I am her only mother. The only one ever. I made her. I took care of her-before she was even born. I quit smoking, quit drinking, quit any and all drugs except for tylenol for the sake of her well being. Choked down a giant prenatal vitamin and an iron supplement on top of it everyday just for her. All these memories overtake me. Holding her for the first time, looking at her, trying to focus on such a little face without my glasses. Kissing her for the first time. Her crawling. Her first words. Her first steps. Her in her first real halloween costume, we didn't even bother taking a 14 month old trick or treating. we took pictures and that was that. I think of her Cheshire cat grin now and remember how she didn't get teeth until she was nearly two years old and how worried I was. I blamed myself. "My stupid body", I thought "didn't even make her a set of teeth! What the hell is she gonna do without teeth!" I remember her passing out in the back seat as I made door to door deliveries for hospice for hours on end after I lost my job and van went away. Her in her Christmas outfit on Christmas eve drinking her bottle and waking up with her, just her, on Christmas morning to open presents "from Santa" my wonderful, WONDERFUL friends were nice enough to buy since I was absolutely flat broke. I remember leaving her for 3 WHOLE DAYS with someone for the first time since Beitris, before them I had never been away from her for a couple hours and it was almost a traumatic experience. But we needed money for rent and food and I had to do it and when I finally got my baby back in my arms......oh. I remember those days. Just me and Trin. Just us. And it seemed like the whole world was against us. The car accident that destroyed our only working vehicle. She didn't cry right away, she was in shock, but she HOWLED later. And it seemed like whenever we NEEDED food it would snow a mile high and make the stroller impossible to push.
She's been with me through so much, and I have always taken care of her. But she is not just a responsibility like my brothers and sister are when my parents aren't well enough to care for them or like my parents are when they are not well enough to take care of themselves.
SHE IS MY DAUGHTER.
AND THAT IS FUCKING AMAZING.
I have a daughter. Trinity Nerea Thompkins. That's her name. I picked it.
She's my daughter. Mine. No one else can claim to be her mother in word or in deed. I take good care of her but that is to be expected-and her only purpose by me She's a good girl. She's sweet and she's smart and she tells her father that he is her best friend, ALWAYS-and I act jealous but it doesn't bother me one bit. Inside I am bursting with pride. My little one has picked the same person to be her best friend that I have-and that means I am doing SOMETHING right.
God-I love her. I million of her smiles flash through my head. She's so amazing.
And she's mine.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
There is only one pretty child in the world. And every mother has it.
I don't brag about my daughter enough. I mean-she's a toddler-the only shit she does right now is BADASS shit.....so all the cute shit gets overlooked....but she is really cute. She thinks she's so grown. She grabs you and says "c'mon" and takes you where she wants to go to do what she wants to do. Some mornings she lays between me and Van on the bed and she moves her head back and forth, back and forth, giving us each a kiss over and over untill she gets dizzy.
When I cry she comes t me and goes "wha HAPPY?!?!?"(what happened?) and "ok, ok?" and "i know." and she pats your arm or back or face.
She's my little attack beast-on my command she will run up to ANYONE(even daddy) and hit them and say "NO!NO!" 'TOP-E!"(stop it) "TUH-AP"(shut up)
And now she says "I love you." clear as a bell.
People say I'm crazy for having another baby right now....but....kids give you this......feeling......it's like a drug. It's so.....AMAZING and REAL and it is just SO. It can't be described.
Some would look at this as a platform to jump off of and say "SEE! SHE ONLY HAS REAL LOVE FOR HER OWN DAUGHTER!"
This is not the case. I just happen to be exploring my love for Trin in this specific entry. Most people don't believe I could possibly love those girls as much as I love my "own" offspring or even that it's unfair to Trin if I do......
Believe what you'd like. I love ALL OF MY KIDS. AND THEY ARE MINE. THEY ARE A PART OF MY LIFE, MY HEART, MY FAMILY. I am not simply watching these kids grow up-I AM GROWING THEM UP. There are pieces of me inside them, maybe not gentically, but parts of me, nonetheless. Things that I have taught them, or showed them, or just random things that they saw and admired and aspired to imitate.
There is nothing I would do for my own daughter that I would not do for them. Absolutely nothing. They are the same in my heart. All of them. I feel the same responsibility toward them. The same crazy, upsidedown world unconditional love. Because they came from somebody elses womb is meaningless. If that actually mattered when it came to love adoption would be a wholly unsuccessful and unfulfilling endeavor. But it's not.
Are my words resonating yet?
I love ALL my kids. SATURNINA D. JESSIE T. & TRINITY N.(AND BABY T) None are any more or less special than ANY of the others. They all matter. They are all important to me. They are all truely, madly, and deeply loved by me. And I will make sure they all ALWAYS KNOW IT.
ALWAYS.
When I cry she comes t me and goes "wha HAPPY?!?!?"(what happened?) and "ok, ok?" and "i know." and she pats your arm or back or face.
She's my little attack beast-on my command she will run up to ANYONE(even daddy) and hit them and say "NO!NO!" 'TOP-E!"(stop it) "TUH-AP"(shut up)
And now she says "I love you." clear as a bell.
People say I'm crazy for having another baby right now....but....kids give you this......feeling......it's like a drug. It's so.....AMAZING and REAL and it is just SO. It can't be described.
Some would look at this as a platform to jump off of and say "SEE! SHE ONLY HAS REAL LOVE FOR HER OWN DAUGHTER!"
This is not the case. I just happen to be exploring my love for Trin in this specific entry. Most people don't believe I could possibly love those girls as much as I love my "own" offspring or even that it's unfair to Trin if I do......
Believe what you'd like. I love ALL OF MY KIDS. AND THEY ARE MINE. THEY ARE A PART OF MY LIFE, MY HEART, MY FAMILY. I am not simply watching these kids grow up-I AM GROWING THEM UP. There are pieces of me inside them, maybe not gentically, but parts of me, nonetheless. Things that I have taught them, or showed them, or just random things that they saw and admired and aspired to imitate.
There is nothing I would do for my own daughter that I would not do for them. Absolutely nothing. They are the same in my heart. All of them. I feel the same responsibility toward them. The same crazy, upsidedown world unconditional love. Because they came from somebody elses womb is meaningless. If that actually mattered when it came to love adoption would be a wholly unsuccessful and unfulfilling endeavor. But it's not.
Are my words resonating yet?
I love ALL my kids. SATURNINA D. JESSIE T. & TRINITY N.(AND BABY T) None are any more or less special than ANY of the others. They all matter. They are all important to me. They are all truely, madly, and deeply loved by me. And I will make sure they all ALWAYS KNOW IT.
ALWAYS.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Verlander
I've been in love with Verlander since I was 16. Who knew that a trip to the toy store to get a a skateboard for my little brothers 10th birthday would have ended 5 years later with me being a single mother and heartbroken...
I don't remember very much for our first relationship....I remember he was with me when I got caught at Tony's stealing liquor for my 17th birthday...lol. And that he showed up like 5 hours late for my lakefront birthday party. He stayed for 20 minutes and left. And I was so mad that when I went home with Jennifer that night I smoked up and ate her out for hours...The following week I took him to see "Signs" and told him about what I did with Jennifer while we stood in line. He didn't say anything until the next day-I called him and he broke up with me.
Time passes...there's someone else. I love him (I think) he loves me (yeah right)...we relish doing bad things together...till one day the bad things get us caught up and he's gone and I'm alone...I grieve and I mourn and one day Verlnder's in my life again. He's cheating on his girlfriend cuz I'm a better lay....I'm cheating on my boyfriend cuz he's in jail and I hate to be alone...and because I'm still in love with this man, eleven years my senior, who would sooner chop his arm off than admit he cares about a woman. He's a total asshole...but I love him anyway...I act like I don't want him-cuz he acts like he doesn't want me...but everytime I escape the confines of Job Corps I make my cousin drive past his house...or I take a bus route that lets me walk thru there...yes, I am obsessive. We drink together. Motel-hop here and there so he doesn't get caught up...but strange as it seems we rarely have sex. It's more about the intimacy of the conversation.
I'm 18 now and christmas is right around the corner. Everyone is packing their shit and heading home to be with family. Not I. No sir. I am hardly welcome in my fathers house. Not this high school dropout. Juvenile delinquent. Bitch. Verlander drops me off from his house. This a rare treat since he mostly acts as if he could care less whether I come or go. I take the long walk up to my dorm. Lay down and my bed and text him "I don't want to be here." and miracle of miracles he actually turns around and comes back for me. I pack my stuff. And I spend my christmas vacation with him. His girlfriend calls him and dumps him the exact same day as I get a letter from my jailhouse boyfriend cutting me loose. And on December 23 we sit down and decide what to do with ourselves...because I'm carrying his baby. We decide we should do it together. He does so out of responsibility. He has two kids already and cares for them greatly. He will always take are of his responsibilties....I decide to stick with him because I have loved him since that day in the toy store...
"...excuse me miss, can I help you find something?..."
My pregnancy is crazy. I hate him sometimes. We crash at his friends house for a while, till I graduate from job corps, but it soon gets too crowded. We end up squatting in a basement. Sleeping on a twin boxspring covered in cardboard. Eating once a day-if that. It's hard. Everynight before we sleep I tell the man I love him. He usually says " I know."
He finally tells me as I am pushing his child into the world, he's holding me and he tells me, finally, that he loves me, too.
Family life is crazy but great. We make love in every room of our new house, even the hallway. I give him head in the outer stairwell. Crazy in love. We are best friends, so we rarely leave home without each other. If he goes out drinking "wit da guys" I come too...cuz I can hang...and after the drinks have taken their toll we end up going all out...I still remember staring up at the stars as he fucked me in Humbolt Park. "This is my man", I told them.
Now he's gone... and all i'm left with is memories...enough to fill a million of these fucking blogs.
I've seen other people. Kissed a few, yes, it's true-I admit to it. But I can't see giving my body to another man. 1rst of all-that would be the ultimate betrayal-to have another man fill his place in my body. 2nd because I don't believe in casual sex. It's not right. And I have never given my body to man I didn't love(even if they didn't love me back) and how can i love anyone else that much...while my heart is still so full of him. It's nuts and it sucks cuz I'm horny as hell, ya know. I am a sexual being. It's how I express myself...but you can do something you KNOW isn't right...not by anyone elses standards...but by your own...no, I'm too stubborn and proud for that. I don't compromise. and b/c 3rd..like I said, he's my best friend and I DO tell him everything. I don't want to tell him anything to hurt him anymore than he already is. I don't want to lose the man, that at 16 I pointed at and said to my little brother "You see that guy? I'm gonna marry him one day." And I don't want to go to hell.
But fuck, man...3 years is a long fucking time.....
I don't remember very much for our first relationship....I remember he was with me when I got caught at Tony's stealing liquor for my 17th birthday...lol. And that he showed up like 5 hours late for my lakefront birthday party. He stayed for 20 minutes and left. And I was so mad that when I went home with Jennifer that night I smoked up and ate her out for hours...The following week I took him to see "Signs" and told him about what I did with Jennifer while we stood in line. He didn't say anything until the next day-I called him and he broke up with me.
Time passes...there's someone else. I love him (I think) he loves me (yeah right)...we relish doing bad things together...till one day the bad things get us caught up and he's gone and I'm alone...I grieve and I mourn and one day Verlnder's in my life again. He's cheating on his girlfriend cuz I'm a better lay....I'm cheating on my boyfriend cuz he's in jail and I hate to be alone...and because I'm still in love with this man, eleven years my senior, who would sooner chop his arm off than admit he cares about a woman. He's a total asshole...but I love him anyway...I act like I don't want him-cuz he acts like he doesn't want me...but everytime I escape the confines of Job Corps I make my cousin drive past his house...or I take a bus route that lets me walk thru there...yes, I am obsessive. We drink together. Motel-hop here and there so he doesn't get caught up...but strange as it seems we rarely have sex. It's more about the intimacy of the conversation.
I'm 18 now and christmas is right around the corner. Everyone is packing their shit and heading home to be with family. Not I. No sir. I am hardly welcome in my fathers house. Not this high school dropout. Juvenile delinquent. Bitch. Verlander drops me off from his house. This a rare treat since he mostly acts as if he could care less whether I come or go. I take the long walk up to my dorm. Lay down and my bed and text him "I don't want to be here." and miracle of miracles he actually turns around and comes back for me. I pack my stuff. And I spend my christmas vacation with him. His girlfriend calls him and dumps him the exact same day as I get a letter from my jailhouse boyfriend cutting me loose. And on December 23 we sit down and decide what to do with ourselves...because I'm carrying his baby. We decide we should do it together. He does so out of responsibility. He has two kids already and cares for them greatly. He will always take are of his responsibilties....I decide to stick with him because I have loved him since that day in the toy store...
"...excuse me miss, can I help you find something?..."
My pregnancy is crazy. I hate him sometimes. We crash at his friends house for a while, till I graduate from job corps, but it soon gets too crowded. We end up squatting in a basement. Sleeping on a twin boxspring covered in cardboard. Eating once a day-if that. It's hard. Everynight before we sleep I tell the man I love him. He usually says " I know."
He finally tells me as I am pushing his child into the world, he's holding me and he tells me, finally, that he loves me, too.
Family life is crazy but great. We make love in every room of our new house, even the hallway. I give him head in the outer stairwell. Crazy in love. We are best friends, so we rarely leave home without each other. If he goes out drinking "wit da guys" I come too...cuz I can hang...and after the drinks have taken their toll we end up going all out...I still remember staring up at the stars as he fucked me in Humbolt Park. "This is my man", I told them.
Now he's gone... and all i'm left with is memories...enough to fill a million of these fucking blogs.
I've seen other people. Kissed a few, yes, it's true-I admit to it. But I can't see giving my body to another man. 1rst of all-that would be the ultimate betrayal-to have another man fill his place in my body. 2nd because I don't believe in casual sex. It's not right. And I have never given my body to man I didn't love(even if they didn't love me back) and how can i love anyone else that much...while my heart is still so full of him. It's nuts and it sucks cuz I'm horny as hell, ya know. I am a sexual being. It's how I express myself...but you can do something you KNOW isn't right...not by anyone elses standards...but by your own...no, I'm too stubborn and proud for that. I don't compromise. and b/c 3rd..like I said, he's my best friend and I DO tell him everything. I don't want to tell him anything to hurt him anymore than he already is. I don't want to lose the man, that at 16 I pointed at and said to my little brother "You see that guy? I'm gonna marry him one day." And I don't want to go to hell.
But fuck, man...3 years is a long fucking time.....
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
A Love Letter To MY Valentine
Happy Valentines Day to one and all...whether you got one or not....
Trini is my Valentine this year....and she gets all the chocolate she can eat.
She's been riding thru these rough times with me whether I wanted her there or not and she deserves all my love today.
Thank You for being the reason mommy can never give up. I love you more than I can express to you. I'm so sorry your daddy isn't here to give you all the love you deserve. And I know that you'll never be able to read this, but my love for you is so big I have to pour it out to everyone...so maybe they'll see how absolutely amazing and wonderful you are...and how little I deserve an unconditional love like yours. You are my LIFE Trinity Nerea T....and today I celebrate and cherish you...not just the love of my life...but my very life itself.
God...thank you for her.
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