Hope Radio

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