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Things that don’t surprise me

Finding out that PsychoD’s father is a raging racist…

And Thing being 4 months behind on child support (even then, it’s only $1600) and officially becoming a deadbeat per IRS since I had decided last summer to let the gov. handle child support collection.

No surprises there, right?

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The Return Trip

Way back when Little Nabi went to see where my roots were, i.e. trip to motherland

Way back when Little Nabi went to see where my roots were, i.e. trip to motherland

I’ve been “working out”. Not really working out, but getting some exercise in. I can plank a bit more than 3 minutes before I want to die, but I’m usually going for 2 minutes – because that’s the kind of working out I’m doing here.

It’s all sort of connected to this feeling healthy – oh, yeah, we got this Ninja blender/smoothie maker thing and I even drink green smoothies (more on that later) – bottom line is, I’m going back to my original blogging roots. Like when I used to write for a certain group of mamas blog. You know, exploring parenting, life, food, race, social issues, etc., etc.. At least, I’m going to try. I realize that my old group blog has been somewhat dormant, except for maybe a new writer promoting her side gig… besides, I kinda left in a huff so it’s not like I’m going to have an open door waiting for me. So, I’m going to go at it solo.

I think it’s partly because I bumped into old articles that announced a whole bunch of bloggers blogging about divorces (circa 2012?) and read these comments that, well, were not so kind about people who blog about their lives – and then I remembered that, when I was going through my divorce jottings (circa 2007/2008), I escaped the verbal scathe (for most part… there were “delurkers”, “wellmeaningblogtrolls”, and “unsolicitednaysayeradvices”) probably because those were still happy “Mommy Blogger” days, before BlogHer was a thing, before people were making money, before people stopped being invested in the story…

Long story blah blah short, I got a bit nostalgic. The stalker exes really did a number on my blogging habits – my need to fuck with their nosiness trumped my initial desire to connect: I stopped connecting and I started code-blogging, i.e. posts meant to bait them to see if they were still stalking (I’m sure they still are checking now and then), posts to make statements, posts to manipulate, posts to create a smokescreen… you know, posts that spoke in codes in which only I and most likely the two stalker exes would see patterns (although, I might be giving them too much credit).

Body is getting healthy, and I kind of want to work on my mind/soul/head/whatever.

I’m not going to make it all that easy, though, for them. Not that I think there are too many of my old blog friend left still checking – but, if you are, I will leave the new address in the next password protected post. I might still keep this up just for the “code-blogging”… but, other than that, it’s all about getting back to my roots, in more ways that one.

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Snippet from FB

So, you have the kid for 3 measly hours – granted, your choice, but you sure do go on about how it is I who don’t let you see her because I stick to that pesky court order – and she happens to have a bit of a tummy ache. Oh, right, you don’t know how to take care of a sick child because you’ve always refused to take care of a sick child. Yeah… that’s why she refuses to call you “Daddy”. You kinda have to earn that title, jackass.‪#‎stillhappytohavethechildbackearly‬ (yep, emailed me to have the child picked up early because he couldn’t handle 90 more minutes with the child)

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Gone?

Hm.  Haven’t heard from THING for over a month… he hasn’t paid child support – I mean, he’s ALWAYS late, being the near-deadbeat that he is, but this is later than usual.  Has he left town?

Of course, he could be taking a vacation – you know, taking a vacation from his super busy bartender life is almost more important than seeing the child… even though he has two weeks off between visitations anyway. 

Or, maybe his dad (or mom – although more likely his dad) isn’t doing all too well and he’s gone to protect the trinkets from his siblings (gawd, the fights he had with his sister over some great-grandmother’s bedroom furniture, cheap ones at that) in case one of his parents does croak.  Well, he did always say that he’s waiting for them to die so he could stop working.  Y’know, because he works sooo much.

Well, I guess I should be reporting him as a deadbeat and just have the child support dept go look for him… I think they take his driver’s license away…?  Should have done this long time ago anyway – he’s so woefully late each month…

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Oh, the shame… oh, the embarrassment

Before long, Little Nabi will be old enough to be embarrassed by THING.

Or so I thought…

That time has come.  A mom from our world saw Little Nabi today.  It was during their every other Sunday 3-hour visitation time so she was with THING.  He made a point to approach this mom and introduced himself as “[Little Nabi’s] father”.  And then this mom, probably totally confused to see this low class person who reeks of cigarette smoke (I know, because Little Nabi came home reeking of cigarette smoke just from hanging out with him for 3 hours) with LN, attempted to politely chat with him.  He went on about how LN talks about this woman’s son now and then.  Um.  This woman’s son is a junior in high school.  LN barely knows the son.  

LN was embarrassed.  She wished that he didn’t speak to this nice lady who smells like good healthy life… not some alcoholic degenerate with cigarette stink who was checking his phone the entire time she was with him because, you guessed it, football was on.  His team lost, by the way.  

He bragged that he knew everyone in town, how he had lots of “friends” in town… LN can tell that these are merely “friends” at restaurants and bars he frequents, or “friends” who frequent the bar where HE works.  Already she can tell that they are not “friends”.  She knows that “friends” actually do things together.  She knows that just because you serve someone a beer now and then doesn’t mean you are besties.  

She was embarrassed.  She didn’t like that she reeked of cigarette smoke.  She knows good dads do not watch TV the entire visitation.  She was promised a scooter.  She really wants that scooter because it would help the 3 hours go by faster.  He keeps breaking that promise.  I keep telling her to see if he keeps the promise this time.  

She says she is not going to “magically” start liking him when she’s 16.  She says she wishes she can stop seeing him.  She hates that he insists on making her see him when he can’t even last the full 3 hours and always brings her back early… she likes coming back early, but she knows that it doesn’t make sense.  

Soon, she will figure out the motivation behind this.  She already dislikes him very much.  He keeps this up, she will despise him.  

So we make no big deal of him at home.  We comfort her, explain to her that it’s not her – he is so much full of wrong.  Then we move on.  It’s best that she’s mildly irritated – we don’t want her to nurture a resentment that will affect her life later.  However, this… the fact that he’s already causing embarrassment to her.  Before, it was just 3 long hours with him.  Now, it’s 3 long embarrassing hours.

Yep.

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Re-emergence

Certain someone, under the guise of a “nice gesture”, is trying to re-emerge.  The deadbeat local station probably has nothing to report as we have zero, nada, zilch, naught, zip, and diddly squat interaction.

Just as a photo was sent to be shown (deadbeat showed it to the wrong person who, by the way, was traumatized), another venue is being explored… we guess the futile attempts are in hope of opening a line of communication so to speak.

We want no contact.  Zero, nada, zilch, naught, zip, and diddly squat communication.

… she did so hate being ignored.

skunk ass