Christmas 2011

I feel like I can finally talk about this.

It was probably one of the worst Christmases (emotionally) I’ve ever been through.

We opened presents at my parents’ house that morning, and B received a text from his mom stating she was bringing Speedracer (B’s son from his first marriage).  I was ecstatic! I love that kid, as does B, and because Speedracer’s mother is a horrible, manipulative ho-bag we almost never get to see him.  We hung out at my parents’ place a bit longer and Squeak got lots of loving.  Then we left for B’s brother’s place which is in a town about 20 minutes over from where my parents live.  They were having a HUGE dinner with all of B’s family and some of B’s brother’s wife’s family.  B’s mom showed up about an hour & a half after we did and she walked in with B’s youngest sister…and no Speedracer.  Uhm, what?

It took me a bit to get the story out of her, but apparently what happened was she had picked him up and he was acting mopey and sad.  She asked him what was the matter, and he sniffled and said, "I might miss my mom!"

Here’s the deal with that –  Speedracer’s mom is a HUGE a manipulator.  She reportedly never tells him B is going to come get him until an hour or so before it happens, so that "he won’t get too upset if it doesn’t happen".  First of all, B has NEVER FAILED to get Speedracer when it’s been arranged for him to be picked up to spend time with us.  Secondly, how does that help Speedracer?  I can’t imagine how unstable that must feel, when the person taking care of you never lets you know what’s going on until the last minute.  She also constantly sets Speedracer up to fail.  For example, when we took him camping with us this summer, he told us that she told him that he wasn’t allowed to get dirty.  What.  The.  Fuck.  How do you honestly tell a 6 year old child to not get dirty when he goes outside!?  I’m making assumptions based on her past behaviors here but I’m sure she spent a lot of time telling Speedracer how much she would miss him, and how sad she would be while he’s gone, and blah fucking blah.  Speedracer is basically a miniature B – he has a very tender heart (B has just buried his because of years of emotional abuse at this woman’s hands).  He is also incredibly resilient, so I know he would have been JUST FINE if B’s mom had told him "It’ll be okay, you’ll get to see your dad and you’ll have fun!"

But no.

She made a decision that wasn’t hers to make, and she took him back to his mother’s house.

I can just see, in my mind, that bitch celebrating a victory.

I’m sure she loves Speedracer in her own way, but the fact remains that he lives with her because it allows her to still have some form of control over B.

I was crushed.  Are we not also Speedracer’s parents?  Do we not also have the ability to comfort and love him?  Do we not also have the right to spend time with him at important points in his life?

B’s mother is ruining her son’s relationship with Speedracer, in order to maintain her relationship with her grandson.  Everything within me rages at this.  B is a great father – he has his shortcomings when it comes to his relationship with me but I will never, ever say that he is not a good father.  He loves his children with all his heart.

The day progressed and we ate dinner, which was truly amazing – probably one of the best meals I’ve ever had.  Everything was delicious.  But I moved through the rest of the day like a robot.  People opened gifts (Squeak got more clothes and toys, for which I am truly grateful) and we played games and visited and watched the kids run around and scream.

We were getting ready to put Squeak down for the night, and I stepped out of the room for a moment to go hang a towel up in the bathroom, I think.  I came back in and B had been reaching under the mattress for something.  He immediately tried to make up some story about how he had hidden his can of tobacco (he is a chewer) under the mattress, "so that the kids wouldn’t get into it while I showered", which I didn’t believe for an instant.  I asked him if he’d hidden a bottle of pills under there.  He broke down and said yes.

I was devastated.

I pulled it out, and we sat there on the bed saying nothing.  And by saying nothing, I mean we said what we always do when I discover a bottle (usually emptied of pills). 

"Why didn’t you tell me?" 

A shrug. 

"You still aren’t letting me help you." 

"I know."

We’ve been over this territory so many times it’s wearing holes in my resolve.  It’s making me tear up just thinking about it. 

Realistically, I don’t know how much longer I can keep living like this.  And yet, the thought of taking B’s daughter away from him breaks me.  I could never really do it.

So.  Here I stand.