And we all fall down

The long story short, asshat spent the day drinking yesterday, things spun out of control in the evening, I had to call 9-1-1, and they ended up having to then make his mom leave.

Now, I'll fill some of it in.

He's been weird all week. He had taken this past week off for vacation and I didn't plan to. But then we talked and planned to do some inside stuff, so I took it off. He was gone most of the week doing things elsewhere. For one, he hasn't taken ANY of his medications for over 2 weeks. And he's just done weird, out of character stuff. So yeah, the drug suspicion pops right back up.

Yesterday, he told me some weird random story about the guy out back. Soon after they left because the guy wanted him to take him to get beer. It sounds completely like nothing, but the details of how it all went down was odd. So they were going and coming right back. My first thought was he had NO business whatsoever driving. But when an hour passed I began to get suspicious. When he finally resurfaced I let him have it and he told me I was crazy.



He came in and things escalated. I told him if we meant anything at all to him that he would start going back to his therapist and thinking about going back to his NA meetings. Of course that set him off. And he was all let's go right now and I will take a drug test.



It went back and forth. Him bringing up my debt and trying to say I have ruined his credit. Me pointing out that my debt on the corner of the washing machine couldn't potentially have KILLED our child like cocaine would. Then pointing out that in 11 years the only joint thing we have had was my vehicle. And how the fact that he cannot manage the money in the bank account and he overdraws it all the time, oh and how we got way behind on house payments in 2007 when he WAS IN REHAB, probably has a LOT to do with it. And the fact that even still, he will know things are coming out of the bank and continue to spend money hand over fist.



And it went and went. But the clencher was him being all proud of himself, like he had some smoking gun, and telling me that his cousin (yeah, you know the one? The one who hit on me at Christmas? Who is a raging alcoholic? That one.) told him, that I had confessed to him when we visited Louisiana last summer that I ruined his credit on purpose to get him back for what he put me through with the drug abuse.



I was dumbfounded. The only discussion we EVER had to do with credit or anything financial was me telling his cousin how we struggled during that time. And I told him that. And the fact that he believed that mother fucker, after what he did, was astounding. And that's when I lost it. And when he realized how upset I was he started to backpedal and be all "I didn't say I believed him." And I had this little bag that has my crochet in it and wailed it at his leg. He claims the scissors came out and cut his leg. I think I took off a scab. And I stood up and I don't know what happened or what was said, but the next thing I know, he has that awful, crazy look about him and he comes at me. The only thing I remember is seeing his face, his hands coming at me and fearing for my life. Then looking over as our 6 year old sat watching in horror. And the thing is, all he ever had to do was ask me about that.



He shoved me across the couch. And I was frightened enough to pick the phone up and dial 9-1-1. And I will say, thank god he wasn't beating me half to death because it took almost 15 minutes for them to get here. And before they got here he had called his mom and dad twice telling them to come pick him up.



I told the deputies what happened. They came in and talked to him. They tried to talk me into filing charges but I wouldn't. I told them I threw that at him so he would have every right to file charges back. At the time my chest was splotchy and red. That's what it does when I am stressed or nervous. And they kept questioning me about it. I tried to explain that to them but I know well what they were thinking. My office deals with domestic violence victims every day.



Then his mom shows up and he walks out with the deputies. I saw his mom talking to him and him telling her no. Then she storms up, in her pure white trash form and shouts, "I DEMAND to know what the hell is going on." I just told her that she didn't need to be in the middle of it and to leave. She pulled the "grandmother of the year" card and said, "Well, it does involve me when you do this in front of her." I just kept asking her to leave and telling her to please stay out of it.



She asks what happened and I tell her, you know what I've been through. And she laughs this smart ass laugh that made me want to strangle her and said, "The drugs again? I guess you are going to say you think he's using again?" I said, "He LIED to both of us about it for years. So yeah, I do tend to get suspicious." And she does the laugh again and said, "I guess you are going to tell me now it's because he drinks beer?" She was completely putting on a show for the deputies. I just told her again to leave.



She then goes, "I guess you let them in THAT house." I said, "yeah." She said, "So they went in and saw the MESS." I said, 'Damn right they did." She said, "Good, I'm glad. Because you just totally SCREWED yourself." And she looks at them and says, "My SON does not live like THAT. My SON does not live in a MESS. My son was not RAISED like THAT. My SON was raised in a house that was immaculate." And my reply was, "I'm sorry I'm not as perfect as you. And you know what, your son could get up OFF HIS LAZY ASS once in a while and help out."

And she said, "I don't think so. He gets up early in the morning and works long hours." I rolled my eyes and said, "He works MAYBE 10 hours a day. Start to finish." And she started to say something else and I threw up my hand and said, "You need to leave. You need to stay out of this." And she started in on the no, I'm not and then one of the deputies said, "Ma'am, she has asked you several times to leave and I think that is a good idea."

I am dumbfounded, sad, terrified. And my breaking point was something that could have been handled with a single question MONTHS ago. Which was him asking me about what his cousin had said. Which just goes to show that is how he is. A million times, I have told him to talk to me about things, and yeah I might get hurt or upset, but asking a simple question is better than letting it build up.

As far as the house, I'd be the first to tell you I'm not housekeeper of the year, but I do what I can. The only help I get is him taking out the trash and cooking once in a while. The rest is up to me. Cooking, cleaning, making sure Barbie Jr. is clean, has clothes that fit, has what she needs for school, gets to whatever practice she needs to be at. Doing what I can with the bills when he spends 140 dollars a week on fast food alone. Not to mention beer and snuff. But to try and say my child is neglected? Let's talk about the fact that he has been leaving her in the truck alone while he goes in and picks up a few groceries? Or all the times I've come home to him sleeping and my screaming and shaking his chair wouldn't wake him? Or the time he left 4 lines of cocaine on the corner of our washer while our child was roaming the house.

I discovered he drained the account. I wasn't surprised. His visit to the ATM to take that money caused the charges from things HE had spent money on to now overdraft the account.

I'm devastated it came to this. I think if he were man enough to stand up to his mother and tell her it was between us, we could agree on most everything. But that will never happen. She's the reason he is the way he is. She's been a big part of the problem for a long time. She's very, very ignorant but thinks she is smart.

I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm hurt. And horrified that I let it get this bad. It's my own fault and I should have put a stop to it 2 years ago.

Life is simple, its just not easy. - Author Unknown

Dad ended up having quadruple bypass. The doctor told us before the surgery he wasn't certain he could do all 3 bypasses due to the size of the arteries. So imagine our shock when he revealed he did 4. 4 "severe" blockages he told us. He later said he was dumbfounded that dad hadn't had a massive heart attack due to the severity.

The hardest part for me, the bawlbag, was seeing dad after the surgery with tubes coming from everywhere and breathing with a ventilator. I walked in and took one look at my dad, the one I look to for protection, for strength, and he was laying there, still sedated, and I walked out of the room and burst into tears. I had been warned by many people, and I had pumped myself up to be strong. But I fell apart. I managed to regain my composure and walk back in, but unable to speak. Had I said even a simple word, I would have fallen back to pieces.

He did very well. He had surgery on Thursday and was home the following Tuesday. He's had very little pain. The only problem he has had is a low blood count which still may end up requiring a blood transfusion. And of course, he's still weak.

And now that the hardest part has passed, I can breathe again. And realize how lucky I am to still have my dad with me.

Where to start?

For one, like the complete idiot I am, I still sit here, in the same house as asshat knowing damn well the number one thing I need to do is leave. LEAVE. And it's not even me staying for sake of Barbie, Jr. It's me staying because I'm too fucking chicken to leave. After all his bullshit, I'm too scared to say, "I'm not happy. I want out."

I can't say that I don't love him, because I do. But as cliche as it is, I am not *in* love with him. How high school is that? I get annoyed when he touches me. On the rare occasions he hugs me, I force myself to hug him and want it over with. But oddly, we can have fun together. He's more like a buddy to me.

In addition to asshats and assholes (aka the mean people) I have to deal with the latest family issues. My dad has to have open heart surgery on the 16th. It's been a whirlwind of bad news. We went to Kings Island the weekend of June 19th and to my niece's basketball games. They returned (after being told by his doctor his stress test was okay) on Sunday to a message that he had an appointment with a cardiologist on Monday. They called to make sure it wasn't incorrect and they were told his stress test was abnormal.

He went to the cardiologist on Monday the 22nd, had a heart cath the 29th and they found 3 blockages. He met with the surgeon last Tuesday and has surgery this week. It's been a lot of information packed into a couple of weeks.

He is scared, I am scared, we all are scared. The thought of losing my dad terrifies me. Then I feel selfish because I think of how many friends who have lost a parent (or both) at young ages and would give anything to have had their parents around this long. But I can't help but be scared. A girl needs her daddy.

Of course it's all re-motivated me to start watching my diet and exercise again. I'll be 34 years old in 2 months, both parents are diabetic, my mom has high blood pressure and my dad now has heart disease.

And it makes me realize that life is too precious to be miserable. It's too precious to live a lie. And what am I teaching my kid? That it's okay to live with an asshole and eat like shit and be overweight?

So that's that. You are now up to speed on the life of Barbie Girl. It's funny, I don't ever recall Barbie having a bad day. Maybe that's an idea for a new line.

"Disgruntled Wife Barbie" she would wear a shirt that says "I'm with asshat" and come with a weapon
"Asshat Ken" -he would come with a recliner and eyes that shut and a button you push to make him snore.
"open heart Barbie" -complete with tools to do open heart surgery on Barbie
"Xanax Barbie" - Do I really need to explain?
"Mean People Suck Barbie" - The box would read, "Quit hiding my fucking paycheck and saying mean hurtful things to me."

Mean People Suck

You know, after being with asshat so long nothing should surprise me anymore. But sometimes something happens and I think, god, you are just MEAN. And not even him, other people. And mean people suck.

I don't like being the butt of the joke.

It's funny....

It's funny to me that after being with someone for 15 years they can't seem to even manage to help Barbie, Jr. buy me something for Mother's Day because "he wouldn't know what to get for me" but a friend I've have for 8 months went out of town, saw a bracelet and *knew* I would love it and bought it for me.

I like pain?

Oddly enough, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. I thought the pain would be unbearable. I thought I would have to take breaks. But, it didn't really. 20 minutes in the chair and I was out the door.

Happy Mother's Day

I have had the most fabulous Mother's Day.

First of all, Barbie Jr.'s kindergarten class was chosen to do the Mother's Day messages that have been playing on The Dawg this weekend. I nominated them the second I heard about the contest. They won on my nomination.

So on Friday I come home to flowers the girl had picked from my garden in a cup of water, a card, a picture and a book she had made at school. And yes, I cried. Less than an hour later I got to hear my darling girl say, "This is Barbie Jr. Happy Mother's Day Mommy, I love you!" And yes, I cried again.

It's been a day I'll remember always.