Hope Radio

On Friday, I was informed after the kids had been with their Dad for an hour or so that they were at a new address. A permanent one. It seems my ex-husband has a brand new home in a brand new neighborhood. This certified letter notice from him showed up in our mailbox the following day. This does not bode well. I predict it will have something to do with the money he says I owe him for bills on the old house. Which I do. Bills he wanted me to pay when I no longer had access to the house. Which I didn't. The house he thought he should put new locks on while I was still moving. which he did. and the house, without my name on the title. It got left off  without my knowledge all those years ago. Which he did know about. I told Stoic we were moving when we had begun our move. I also told him that it would take some time because I was working and couldn't take off. He wasn't driving, yet and the  house wasn't due him until July. I didn't feel compel

Like my creative title?  Yeah well, deal. That's as much brain power as I plan on allocating. I think that is my problem. I am poorly skilled at brain power allocation. I give what needs more not enough, and what I can't control, way too much. ok. I take full responsibility. My thoughts are scattered. I'm parked at my neighborhood beach bar watching people making asses of themselves, oh but in a fun way. Knight is at home sleeping and getting mentally suited up for work and his soon to be ex-wife's well manipulated counseling session. Can you say lamb to slaughter? We went on a walk on the seawall where we had a stilted conversation about how BSC (that's what I call her. A prize to whoever gets the acronym.)is gearing up to assume the role of proctologist where his divorce maneuverings are concerned. He hates when I predict what is about to happen. I know he does, because I used to hate it when people less myopic told me as I finished my divorce. I'm torn

I'm hosting a party for my 14 year old. A sleepover after his 8th grade dance. They are still up. It's 3:43 am. Happy Mother's Day to me! Nothing like 8 teenagers in the house, writing phallic symbols on the first one asleep, eating everything in sight and clearing up what "tea baggging" means. I love my kids. I love that we are five blocks from the Gulf. I'm kinda pleased with myself for managing to keep them in their school, they are getting a great stepdad and they have friends I like and don't mind having over at 3 am. Happy Mommy's Day to all the other mommies. If anyone has advice on how my son gets the penis my other son helped his friends drew on his cheek, hit me up. I've already warned the perpetrator that Penis Face gets ten minutes of mom looking the other way while he goes Taliban on 'em. Gotta protect the natural order of the Universe.

I wrote a reply to my ex. I did it in bullet points. Yep, since he is brain injured  I always did this thing where I try to make my comms readable for him or to be read to him since his family often writes his texts and emails. Even when I'm finally fed up with taking the high road and fire off the inevitable "I've had a ration of your BS this last year, leave. me. alone" email, Leave it to me to organize it by number with boldfaced keywords. *blink blink* We have had this ridiculously acrimonious divorce. Cop cars are kicked and pummeled. Drivebys ensue. Home gets raided by inlaws. Money is stolen. Accusations involving mental health , sexual appetites general levels of integrity and character, all get hurled like wads of soggy toilet paper And I'm still putting his email in bullet points for readability. Laughing... OMIGOSH.. I'm a dork.

I got an email last night which kept me up most of the rest of the night. It was from my ex-husband. Well...sort of. With the stroke he suffered last April which demolished the left hemisphere of his brain, he still has trouble with language, judgement, impulse control and emotions, (ironic since I referred to him as Stoic pre-stroke) along with physical impairments to his right side. I think hatred fuels his recovery process, but that's just me. No. It's not. It's more than me. It's safe to assume that the angry litany of accusations and judgements fired off last night probably fuels a more general, collective hatred maintained by his family. This midwestern, taciturn, German farming stock of a family apparently and finally succumbed to their need for self expression since I know by the word choices and his mental limitations that this email's composition was a group effort. This email probably went through several drafts and fired its way back and forth t

I'm offline on Facebook for a while. Divorce reasons on Knight's end. And I have a tendency to shoot my mouth off first and then think better of it later. That makes for some car wreck kind of entertainment, true enough, but way too tempting when I'm already trying to keep from punching people in the neck while suffering from the mental promiscuity that I do. Yep. Mental promiscuity. No better place than Blogger for that. :) Well...and it's best for the kids and it forces me to write more. Which is good for me, I mean. It may or may not be good for you, depending on where you are on the Give a Rat's Ass About What Hope Says Continuum. FB made it easier, like fast food writing, if you will. Blogger requires a few more brain cells. I know some folks have followed me over here. I know that now that I'm not anonymous anymore, that the people who I was anonymous because of might find me, too. Whoa. That was NOT a grammatically or syntactically

I officially have a job next year on this campus. I just came back from signing the contract. It's a be careful what you wish for situation. THIS IS A HARD JOB. This is the hardest job I have ever had. Which sort of fits the whole take it up the ass, do everything the hard way, roll snake eyes everytime kind of year I had last year. meh sokay. I'm a junior high school teacher by trade, looks like I am going to second grade. Ever play whack-a-mole at Chuck E. Cheese? It's like that only louder, less organized and sometimes the moles throw stuff at you, question your birth legitimacy and play with lighters in the bathroom. I teach in the 'hood. I don't mean that disparagingly. Our community has many socio-economically disadvantaged kiddos. I like a lot of aspects about that. It feels like it is where I am supposed to be. Did I mention it is a really hard job? Good. Because it is. These seven and eight year olds could bring a Marine to

The week has been a blur of science fair projects and book reports and I am not talking about my work. Tony et al will start stepping up and start helping out. This whole fantasy camp on the weekends are great for him, but the confuse the hell out of the kids. It's classic divorce bullshit. I get it. He's Disney Dad with a Brain Injury. Eating out. No chores. No responsibilities. No accountability. Family taking up the slack... Yes, I parent by committee, but that is another story. Suffice to say here it makes for  Kiddie Freaking Nirvana at times   Me? I'm Custodial Bitch. Homework, projects, chores, expectations, family meetings, earning spending money, consequences, sleepovers, You know, regular growing upstuff and with their Dad? Not so much. Exhibit A: When f Stoic came here the first time to pick up and drop off, an hour after he got home I get this hateful email about how "it's not enough for me to say I have it in hand Hav

I'm 45. I have four kids. 16, 14, 12 and 8. Divorced. I teach elementary in the hood and live near the beach. My boyfriend/fiance, is a police Lt and is in the middle of his own divorce. He has two kids, 12 and 6. We have been through a crucible in the last year and a half and have seen the best and worst parts of each other in the interim. I just moved out of the house I gave birth to three of my kids in. I spent 21 years there with my now ex-husband. The new house is just that. New. The kids have  more room. Knight is close to work and I am even closer. I love it here. It holds so much promise. The travails of single parenting and blended families is beginning in earnest. My youngest son is headstrong and disinterested in too much school. He has become easily distracted and prone to off task type behavior in the classroom. Naturally, guilt creeps in and I think this is all the result of the divorce, but when I take a minute I know that some of these things are just organic an

"What is THAT?" I said pointing to the goose egg sized knot on my husband's right temple. I'd seen him come into the lobby of the small, parochial school our children attend. He looked good, I remember. Dark v neck tee with dark cargo shorts. The running he had started back in December, just after we separated, had begun to redefine him by that mid April morning. He looked good. Except for the large bump on his head and his strange behavior, I did not attribute to more than our estrangement. The morning was a blur at first and then later a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces all those, who loved Stoic, would try to put together. Moreover, the choices and decisions I made that day also prompted the typical Monday morning quarterbacking.  What if I had pushed harder for him to go to the ER? Did his refusal to accept the separation cause something physiological? Did his body simply betray him because he mentally couldn't accept the change? I remember eyeing the goose eg

I think I'm on the downside of worry where my job is concerned. They will be moving me to second grade next year, if all goes as they think it will. That is fine by me. It will take me out of the firing line STAAR test wise and give me time to adjust to elementary. The principal at the junior high knows I want a position there and if something opens up, I still might take it. That school is a whole five minutes away, almost three times as far as where I travel now! I'll take what is offered and assume that is where I am meant to be. The kids have been getting an ungodly amount of work. Projects, science fairs and the like. Currently I am at a late night job with Knight working on typing up their Science Fair since neither would finish until Christmas were I to let them type it. Tomorrow Little Guy's teacher is getting an ass chewing for a myriad of reasons. In a nutshell, as an educator, she leaves much to be desired. Naturally, so do I at this point. I have much to learn

Knight had his kids this weekend. His oldest son is not happy about his Dad and another woman. Most 12 year olds wouldn't be. My kids have had more time to adjust. Still, sometimes the BS his wife fomentd in her son is so angering. My heart goes out to him and his young mind and then i find my skin get thin from the beating I take as a result of that same young mind. Work has gotten ok. Not great. I prefer working with a male boss, but, I had my post observation and while I knew it wouldn't be great, I dont think they are going to not renew my contract. I do have a lot to learn and I need to humble myself and learn it. I'm holed up in a little icehouse near my house. Kids are at games and activities and Knight is asleep. I promised myself I would not bring home a ton of work. One, I fall asleep while attempting, nay looking at it and two, I cannot handle the challenge these disadvantaged kids are with no sleep. See? You are learning, Hope. Maybe you will figure this

So he came back to me. In the rain and cold of a January afternoon. After a month of being gone. After I had had time to get up and brush myself off some. It had been such a hard time and there was damage done to our trust from all the going back and forth. When he did come back he WAS different. Standing there asking for a chance to talk to me, he looked exhausted. He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. I don't remember the exact emotions. He said I looked mad. I remember thinking, damn his eyes are so blue. Then thinking, Oh man do I want to talk to him? It's going to hurt! Then I nodded yes and asked him to wait until I was done with duty. Eventually, I heard him out on the back dock of the school kitchen. He looked convicted. His hands were shaking as they held a small package. He was nervous and I was cautious and tense. I was loathe to pick at a scab that was finally developing some crust. It had been hard won and highly preferably to the

I had started a new blog in January. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was pretty sure BSC, Knight's estranged wife was reading it and after all that had happened between October and Christmas, I was raw and very disinterested in having her privy to my every thought. By October he had left and was coming back. Eventually I helped him do it. Pack, I mean. We came to his former home, packed most of his belongings and we left. I had a prescience that day about how hard it would be for her to come home and find what he had done and I also felt guilt. Still I had learned that trying to steal someone else's lessons or trying to do their homework on their behalf was no better of an idea so I did nothing, but speculate. When he left me at Christmas I would return to these moments in October when it was her he had left without communicating and I would answer my own question as to how awful it would be to experience this. This time between late October and Christmas was st

I was too stunned to speak. I came in to my home, walked to my bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, reeling and keening, before I looked up and saw that his closet was empty. Everything was gone. My phone rang and I answered thinking it was him- that this was just some kind of sick joke. But it wasn't. My friend on the phone couldn't understand me at all at first. I was nonsensical as I moved through the house and it really hit me that he had taken my truck while I was at the restaurant and moved out. That he knew he had when he left me standing in the yard. As my words became more coherent, I found myself in the kitchen looking down at some money he had left on the counter and the debit card to our shared account. It was sinking in. "It's over," I told my friend on the phone, "I can't stay here." And I didn't. My friend bought a plane ticket and I flew to Ohio the next morning. I slept for three days. I should have

Between when he came back in late October and Christmas when he left again, I didn't write. School became increasingly challenging and things between Knight and I were on perpetual wobble. I was worried I had made another mistake in allowing him back into my life and MY KIDS. He still wasn't doing to much in terms of decision making and executing which imbued much trust in me and I was turning into a clingy, batshit crazy mess.  It came to a head the day before Christmas Eve. I waited at a restaurant for him to pick me up after talking to his soon to be ex-wife. An hour passed, then another, then another.  I was starting to wonder what was keeping him when I got his text: "I can't do this anymore." I heard a groan but it didn't sound like it came from me. I stood up and quickly walked out front. He had my truck. It looked like he was leaving me. Panic. Questions. Disbelief. Shock. I didn't really believe I was even standing there in the