Anger Personified

FOB,

Why did you even bother to contact me if you weren't going to respond to my e-mail? Did you think that this is a game? That you can fuck with my life when you are miserable and somehow I'll make you feel better?

I tried to be polite to you, but this isn't a game. My son and I have built a life without you. I'm dating someone that cares about Zac and I. Zac doesn't even know what a "Daddy" is, other than I call my father "Dad". One day, he might ask about where his biological father is and I'll explain that you can't contact him because you're avoiding paying for child support.

I took down the video of Zac. Don't you dare ever exploit him again to make yourself look like anything other than a deadbeat father.

If you need to contact me again, you can do it through the Texas Attorney General's Office. They will explain how you can pay the full amount of child support and they can arrange supervised visitation of Zac according to our origingal child support agreement.

Your family is welcome to continue to send Zac gifts and ask about him. I'll continue to write them back and send them pictures as often as I can. It's up to Zac as to whether or not he wants them in his life. As for you, you don't deserve anything other than a long stretch of jail time.

B

P.S. - For those with myspace accounts, feel free to add your thoughts: http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=50345082.

Topsy-Turvy

The FOB (Father of the Baby) e-mailed me yesterday, from a myspace account no less. He said that he knew he had been a complete and total shit, but that he wanted to help and that he missed Zac. He also said that talking via myspace was probably the safest way to communicate. I dissolved into confusion and anger. "How can you miss someone that you've never known?" Zac and the FOB met once when Zac was six months old. Then an immediate thought: "Is this safe for you because you are still avoiding the Attorney General's Office you shit?"

It was like falling down the rabbit's hole when I clicked over to the FOB's myspace page and read this:

"By the way...The video below of the little boy in his diaper is my son. His name is Zachary Russell, he was born July 8th 2005 in Houston, Texas which is where he lives with his mom right now. In this video he is one and a half and obviously very smart. I miss him alot, and work my job to support him."

Did I miss something? "I work my job to support him?" The FOB hasn't paid more than $20 in child support at any time in over a year. He owes close to $6,000. The video he has up is of Zac identifying his body parts. He can't be more than 18 or 19 months old, even though he's standing and sort of toddles over to the camera on his feet, so I know it's after Thanksgiving 2006.

I wanted to puke. To everyone, he looks like a doting father. What the hell does he mean, "right now" Zac is living in Houston? Zac will live in Houston until I no longer do. He's out of his mind if he believes the delusion that I'm going to move back to New Hampshire to keep Zac close to his family. The man lives in Florida anyways! Why does he care where his son lives?

I wrote him back, but my angry-yet-trying-to-be-polite tone caused all my sentences to sound like a parody of "Dick and Jane" books. "Zac is three years old now. Zac goes to preschool where I work. I work two jobs." I couldn't think of anything else that didn't denigrate down to cursing and wailing on my part. I can't even imagine what kind of help he wants to offer. He closed the door on emotional support when I was pregnant and he stopped returning my calls. He lost the ability for me to be civil towards him when he got fired from his job and didn't call and tell me that Zac no longer had health insurance. I paid over $3,000 in medical bills that year because of him. It's a pretty easy process for him to start helping financially, just send money to the AG's office. Done!

It makes me sick and what's worse is that I know he read it. He hasn't responded to it, but I know he read it. I'm not really sure what I would have to say to someone that tried to have me thrown in jail a couple of months ago, not that he knows any of that. All of this just bothers me.

Probably not coincidentally, my case at the Attorney General's Office of Texas is up for review. Cases for child support and custody are reviewed once every three years. I completed the form and sent it back in. The least I can do is take a morning off work and sit across from a case worker to try and explain why I think the Writ of Withholding should be enforced. It just makes me sick to my stomach.

Expectations

Every morning I open up my e-mail account and expect that I'll see an e-mail from Smith. It's been months and months since he's contacted me, but I still expect that I'll hear from him. It's odd really, how long an expectation can last. I've trained myself not to be disappointed when I don't see anything from him.

I wonder how my cat is doing without me. Zac and I officially moved out on Saturday into our apartment, much to the cat and the toddler's dismay. Every time we would come back to the apartment after an errand, Zac would look at me and say, "OH...we are going back THERE again?" almost like it was a question. He expected to go play at Nana and Papa's house, where there are entire television stations devoted to shows he loves that his Mom can't get with the stupid basic cable package. There are also two more adults for him and no roaches to contend with. I think the bugs bother me way more than they bother him. He hasn't even noticed them yet, but he does notice me screaming, "You will die today!" while brandishing a large can of Raid.

I don't think it's too much to expect an apartment without cockroaches. Manfriend came over yesterday and opened up a drawer to find roach droppings intermingled with the cutting knives. A roach crawled up on my hand at the exact moment I was asking him what the funny black spots were. I happened to be holding a large butcher knife at the time and almost sliced Manfriend's stomach open as I screamed, "Oh dear God! Get it off me! Get it off me!" over and over and lurched back into the dining room. Fortunately, my apartment is so small that you can be standing at the stove and hand someone a plate of food at the dining room table. It's like living inside an Ikea showroom, only with more cockroaches and less Swedish wall art. All of my dishes went into the dishwasher after the roach incident. I'm lucky that I only have four plates and two bowls, or that could have been a more time-consuming endeavor.

Tonight Zac and I are sleeping at my parents' house. I have to go to my fundraising class and Zac is getting the privilege of being the center of my parents' world once again. We've slept in our own apartment for two days and I expect that Zac will be loving every minute of attention that he can get from his Nana and Papa. I know that he'll definitely be excited by Noggin and a couple games of Candyland.

Definitely Not Married

I've had the strangest occurrence in the past week or so. Three people that I respect and work with on a daily basis have asked something along the lines of: "So where is your husband?" or "You and your husband create such beautiful babies, you should have more."

Uhhh....who said that I had a husband?

I usually scrunch up my eyebrows and look confused, which somehow prompts people to continue speaking trying to clarify themselves by saying, "Well, we've heard you talk so much about your son and...." They just seem to trail off as they realize they've backed themselves into a whopping stereotype. It's a hole that's hard to get out of once you've sunk into it.

Usually at that point in the conversation I'm silent and cock my head to the side, waiting for them to draw the link between my son and my invisible husband. Sometimes I'm kind enough to say, "I don't have a husband," but really, what I want to say is, "He can't be here right now. His day job of caring riding unicorns on rainbows and sprinkling fairy dust on good girls and boys keeps him away from home quite a bit."

Yes, I have a son. No, I do not have a husband. In fact, it's taken me three years to become comfortable with the identity of "single Mom". I'm not sure why these professionals would assume that just because I've procreated that I would have a partner in my life. Is it because I, like them, have a professional job and manage to get to work every morning without syrup or applesauce on my shirt? Is it because I'm not on public assistance (anymore)? Or is this just one giant stereotype that to be a successful woman with a child that I must have the financial, emotional, and legal support of a husband? No one has ever mentioned anything about be having a "partner" or even acknowledged that I could be anything other than perfectly heterosexual.

Although it is quite flattering that someone would assume that I'm married rather than trolling for dates on cheap internet websites (oh wait...umm...I guess I hide that well). I should say that it's flattering that I'm able to keep my work life separate enough from my private life that what goes on after work ends is kept to myself. That's been harder to do now that Zac attends preschool at my organization, but it's possible. Not only is he the only blond kid at the school, soon he's going to be the only blond kid at the school wearing a shirt that says, "I have no Dad, but my Mom is hot."

Still Here

I'm still here, alive and kicking. I am seeing a chiropractor for my neck and shoulder. He x-rayed my neck on Saturday and said that some of the bones look like they narrow at the beginning of my spine. He recommended me stretching and continuing to come in for adjustments.

Work has been busy and stressful (both jobs). I have all of my things in my new apartment and I'm trying to go over and unpack a little bit at a time. The bugs are thwarting any progress that I can make, though. Every time I open a cabinet, at least two different varieties of roaches and/or ants come crawling out at me. I'm hoping that I can start living in my apartment within the next two weeks. My fundraising class will be over in late October. That will help reduce the amount of time that Zac and I are sleeping at my parents' house.

Until then, I'm just trying not to get overwhelmed. A trip to an urgent care facility yesterday for a shockingly painful urinary problem yesterday didn't really abate my feelings of stress. I'm just thankful that my parents were there to help me out. My Dad came and took Zac back to there house and my Mom stayed with me and drove me home. It was more than I could have asked for and I'm grateful.