Life Insurance....What a BAD joke

I can not believe the absolute SCAM I found out about. My father in law passed away. As most of you know it is the 4th death we have had to deal with in this past 12 months. We knew he was going to pass but felt relief in the fact he had life insurance and we would not be stuck with a giant bill like we were when Cathy died.
I do not know why I was shocked when I got the statement. His insurance paid face value of the policy of $2500. I thought it was going to be a bigger policy because grandpa has been paying $40 a month since 1991. Yes I did the math too and realized he paid $40 for 220 months = $8800!!!! I was livid. I thought to myself there is no way this was legal but incredibly it was. The agent told me and the Kansas Insurance Commission office confirmed it. They explained to me that if grandpa would have died the day after he got the policy they would have had to pay the $2500 but because he lived longer, he helped pay for the losses the insurance company had to pay for people who died sooner. I think that is so wrong, I know everyone needs to make a living but that's insane. I think that once the $2500 was paid, he shouldn't have to keep paying. Let the insurance company invest the money or keep interest but to make $6000 plus in profit off an old man is criminal in my opinion.
If grandpa would have put that same $40 a month is a savings account, the whole funeral would be paid for and then some. I know people never know when they will pass but to make this big a profit off the backs of elderly people is appalling. The agents scare people into buying these policies and its just wrong.
Now I'm sitting here with a bill for $841.88. I know this is not an astronomical amount to most people but top it off with the $871.55 we have left from Cathy's funeral, the fact that JR just lost his job and we are financially strapped as it is, this may as well be a million dollars. It will not take long before we lose everything. It will be hard to write on this blog when we are living under the 6th street bridge. Thanks Obama, your doing a bang up job there. Maybe you should look into life insurance companies too, not just health-care. Something has to happen so you don't cripple your family with debt when you die.

How do you survive on Minimum Wage?

I keep crunching the numbers and trying to see what I can cut back on and still come up short. JR is getting more and more obnoxious about his job and I must say its grating on my last nerve. He keeps complaining he is working 14 hr days but because people are late loading or unloading, he only gets paid for miles driven, hence a 14 hr day turns into 6hrs of pay. I look at this and realize he is getting paid less than minimum wage on those days (which are coming more often than not anymore) and ask why he cant just come home now? He made me get a Sunday paper and look at the want ads, he doesn't trust the free online classifieds so I spent the $2.00 on the not even worth it paper. Of the one and a half pages of jobs posted he was qualified for 3. All were minimum wage and at 46 he thinks he deserves more. I cant say as I blame him but at this point, he is making less than that now and not even home, sleeping in his truck, and eating poorly. He is miserable and trying to make the rest of us feel bad for him being stuck out there while we get to sleep in beds in a house. He is afraid we wont make the regular bills like mortgage, utilities and food much less medical bills and the funerals we are still paying for if he comes home and takes one of those jobs.

Fear is crippling, the unknown is scarier than the known and he is over the top with it. I told him just come home and we will make it work somehow. He brings up the fact that we still have plumbing issues, electrical issues, and my car (our only one) is on its last legs and no possible way to replace it if something goes horribly wrong. I pray a lot that it lasts till things get better but i resent the fact he is leaning completely on me to find a solution to this BEFORE he will come home. I watch Oprah and see when she has Suze Orman on and think, yea that looks easy IF you have the money. It pisses me off to no end to see her helping these people who have mortgages that are thousands a month, credit card debt and cars I could only dream of having. Why cant they do a show on people barely making it on 30k a year, not struggling on 130k.

People all over are strapped right now so I'm not getting any takers for cakes and cookies yet but I'm not giving up. I will make a list tonight of how much we have in the needs to be paid column and sell blood if I have to just to get them out of the way. My stress level is through the roof and I'm not sure how I'm going to do this but I can't give up, failure is not an option but I will take any suggestions at this point.

Sweet Dreams

OK I have come to the conclusion that I will have to raise most of this money on my own. I was taking inventory of what I'm good at and what is legally marketable. When I get stressed I bake and I'm pretty good at it too. I have decided to make cakes to get us out of this hole we are in. I went to Walmart an saw they sell cakes for insane high prices in comparison to what I can make them for. I'm staying at home so I know mom's who don't have time to make cup cakes and things for school functions and birthdays. Why not make them and sell them. I know when my kids were in school people looked down on the moms who brought the "obviously store bought" things. My mom made things for me to take so now I can bake for those who don't have time and don't want to make it look like they had no time. We all want that "Supermom" appearance so I can give it to them and save my family at the same time.

I'm going to be experimenting tomorrow with twists on the old favorites and calling them Dream Cakes. They will make our dreams come true...the dream of getting all the funeral bills paid and pay what I need to so we can get the loans for the restaurant and truck stop. This economy is harsh but I refuse to crawl under a rock and die. Ed McMahon is dead so he wont be showing up on my doorstep with a check for an ungodly amount of money so I need to work at getting it myself and there is no time to lose doing it. I know I shouldn't complain, we don't have as much debt as some people, but we want to be debt free. Our grandparents didn't live on credit and they were happier people in my opinion. Grandma saved pennies for a "rainy day" and grandpa worked hard to get her and my mom what ever they needed. My grandpa used to say a man can walk with his head held high when he doesn't owe another money. I know debt causes stress and that's what I'm looking to eliminate completely.

I put pen to paper and figured I need to make $4000 to pay off both funerals, doctor bills and get a headstone for Mystic's mothers grave. I know that it is a lot of money but I think this is easier to take on than everything I need to start the restaurant/truck stop. The best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time and that's how I need to tackle this too, one sweet bite at a time.

Mystic and Sandra will be helping me in the kitchen. Sandra and I have not always gotten along. I am like any other mother in law and believe no woman will ever be good enough for her little boy, but no matter what, she is family now and we need to pull together to help each other in time of need. I think this is the lesson we are all supposed to learn when the world goes crazy. When everything outside seems to be falling apart, the center of your home better get stronger. You put aside the petty bickering and annoyances to focus on the task at hand. I'm not perfect, some even say I am Satan in lipstick, but if we can get through this, we can get through anything.

I was thinking of making a website to promote the project but have not found anyone who knows how to make one. Its more complicated than I thought but I wont give up looking for someone to help me. For now, I will sleep and have sweet dreams of being debt free (except for mortgage) in 90 days or less.

When it rains it pours

Just when you think things will get easier, life has a way of making sure that doesn't happen. We buried grandpa and things went smooth despite a bunch of family being here. The bad economy showed, not too many donations at the funeral but its OK, we will get it all paid for and the funeral home is working with us. Grandpa prepaid a lot of things so that helped, but some things went up since he did this 10 yrs ago.

JR grilled a lot of meat for the family and it went over well, except for his sister Bobbie. I almost killed her with brisket. JR made his special "5 alarm" rub and no one knew Bobbie was allergic to cayenne pepper. Lucky for us, she touched it to her lips to check temperature and realized at that point there was cayenne in it. Her lips swelled like a bad collagen injection ( Angelina Jolie would be jealous) and turned a shade of red I wish I could find in a lip stick. This is not a common allergy, so I'm glad we didn't get to the 911 stage if she would have got it in her mouth.

I had a talk with my son Austin and found out he has had no hot water in a while. The gas was turned off because he couldn't afford it. Now it made sense why he was coming over a lot to use the bathroom and bathe the baby. I couldn't let my 11 month old grand-baby live like this, it broke my heart to see Austin trying so hard and getting further and further behind. He has no health insurance, so when he got sick, he couldn't pay the huge bills and now they are garnishing his minimum wages. Its hard enough to be on your own making $7.25 per hr but to raise a baby and a wife on it, pay rent and bills then have garnishments of 33% of it, its impossible. They are all 3 moving into the basement this week. Now it will be 7 people in a 2br 1 bath house.....bringing back memories of when they were all small.

JR went back to work on Thursday but after one load, he was stuck at the terminal with no freight again. This happens more and more lately and with him being off for 5 days with the funeral and prep, this was not going to help me when payday rolls around. I picked him up Saturday morning and brought him home for the 2 days. Its better for him to eat at home than spend money in a truck stop or vending food. I took him back to work this morning and he went in for his DOT physical. Its required every year to keep his Class A license to make a living.
He had a heart attack at 41 so he has to get this every year instead of every 2 yrs like other drivers do. He took his medicine last night, took it again this morning, and took an extra blood pressure pill right before the test and still failed. His blood pressure was 170/105. Far above the "standard" of below 145/100 they want to see. JR has never been normal. As a child he always ran a fever, they did tons of tests and finally the doc just said its normal for him. He argued with the DOT doc and of course he didn't win. They gave him a 90 day temp permit and told him to make a doctors appointment. He will be out of a job in 90 days so I need to start working on finding a new job for him.

We found a place we want, its a gas station, restaurant, RV park, storefront and apartment. Only problem is not having the 200 THOUSAND dollars to buy it. I have heard many people say "That's a deal for that much stuff and the land that goes with it" but for someone who has never seen THAT much money in her life, it may as well be 2 million. I am talking with some people at the Economic Development Council so I guess I need to keep my fingers crossed. JR wants to turn the store front into a driver lounge and barber shop for truckers, he knows what they want and what they need on the road since he has been a driver so long. He can grill like a mad man so the restaurant wont be a problem, and the boys can run the gas station. Mystic and Sandra can cook and I can do the marketing still cut hair. It would be a true family business as we have something for everyone to do. I have 90 days to make this happen or everything will fall apart. If he is out of work more than 2 weeks, we will lose everything we have, and that's not much. I know the economy is bad but Jesus, didn't think it would get this bad for us. I looked in the paper and there are no jobs that pay more than minimum wage, we cant all live on that so my stress level is high as it can get. Necessity is the mother of invention so nothing pushes me like a deadline. Bring it on 90 days, bring it on.

Goodbye Poppy

My father in law passed away on Friday morning. I was at his side when he passed holding the phone to his ear so he could hear his son saying goodbye. My husband JR is his only son and when we had to put him over to Hospice House he was stuck in California. He is an Over the Road truck driver so he was regulated by Dept of Transportation as to how many hours per day he could drive his semi to get back home. I understand regulations are supposed to protect people from drivers who would go on to drive when too tired to go on but I think some things could be exceptions. Instead of letting him bobtail home without a trailer, they gave him loads that would get him back to Kansas. This is where the nightmare began.

When I called to tell him we were putting him in, he was being unloaded in San Fransisco, a live unload rather than a trailer drop off. After what seemed like forever to be unloaded, they found a load in SF going to Los Angeles. He gets to the place on the other side of San Fransisco and the people don't have the load ready, its hours late and the clock of his day is already ticking. Basically they have 14hrs of that day to get 11hrs of driving in, if a load is late, he may not be able to drive 11 because to much time was taken getting to the pick up and/or loading. He finally gets on the road to LA and that load went smooth. He was unloaded fast and down the road to pick up the load for Denver. Sure enough his day is shot and he barely makes it out of LA and into Nevada before he has to shut down for 10hrs by law. He hit Las Vegas at rush hour, and it seems like endless construction, everyone doing 30mph so no highway workers are killed. Driving the next day he cant make it into Denver and has to shut down west of it at Vail Pass. His truck is regulated to 62mph max so it seems to take an eternity to get anywhere anytime but this trip was excruciatingly long. He gets up again 10hrs later and pushes it into Denver and delivers to his customer. He was grateful he knew where it was so he could get in and get out, after he delivered he had to pick up an empty trailer from a place 5 miles away.

JR was about to pick up when his father got really bad. He had spoken to his dad on the phone at 07:40 and told him he was trying to make it. By this time he wasn't really talking back and couldn't open his eyes anymore but I know he could hear JR's voice because it calmed him. JR was his pride and joy, his name sake, his everything. In my heart I believe he thought JR was there because I stroked his hair like JR used to when he was talking to him on the phone. At 07:50 he took a rapid turn for the worse and was struggling hard so I called JR back. I told him he wasn't going to make it and needed to say his final goodbye now and let him know it was OK to go. JR talked to him, told him how much he loved him and thanked him for teaching him how to be a man, he told him he would teach the same to our boys and make him proud. JR's final words to his dad were "It's OK poppy, go with momma now" and at that moment, he took his final breath and went in peace. The Hospice nurse opened the window so his spirit could fly off to the heavens. He is in a better place now, no longer suffering and finally with the family who went before him.

He calls his supervisor Chris and let him know it was now too late. Chris felt so bad because he was trying so hard to get him home in time. They tell him to go pick up a load in Golden Colorado and take it to Kansas City so another truck can pick it up from there. We live an hour from the Kansas City Terminal so that was OK for us. JR is told to find trailer #666 ( not really the number but it was in the heart of Hell). The yard is not organized so he has to drive up and down it til he finds the one he needs. He comes around the corner of the last row of trailers and finds one of them is jacked up way higher than the others. Sure enough, its the one he is supposed to get. The last trucker to leave it must have been mad and wanted to screw the next driver who acquired it. It took 20 min of hand cranking to get the trailer low enough for him to drive under and couple it to his rig. JR was livid to put it mildly. As if his grief was not enough now he has this added BS on top of it.

JR is so upset, he is mad at God for putting all these obstacles in his way, he is losing his faith and the rest of the day doesn't get any better. He picks up the load, and his day had already started so by the time he got the trailer attached and got loaded he could only make western Kansas before he had to shut down again. I felt horrible, I'm supposed to be comforting him but not from across the state. JR is strong but losing a parent, even when you know its coming, doesn't make it any easier when the moment comes. With all the things roadblocking him, it makes it even worse.

I made the appointment for him to meet with the funeral home the next day so he would have time to get in. I woke him when his 10hrs was up and he got back on the road. One hour from home, he blows an inside tire on the trailer. He looks behind him and sees rubber flying and pulls over. As he sits on the side of the road doing his log and calling for On Road, a state trooper steps up on his running board and scared the hell out of him. Apparently the trooper was behind him when the tire went and was making sure he was OK. 3hrs later, On Road got the tire fixed and he was on the road again. Our appointment was at 1pm so he was not going to have time to take this into KC and get back here. Something finally went right when they sent a truck out to take his load off of him in Topeka so he could make back here on time.

All the arrangements are done and the next few days will be auto pilot I'm sure. JR is exhausted and reflecting a lot of life and its purpose. He has lost his faith for now and I hope he gets it back but only time will tell. I must say, God must have a sick sense of humor to put this many tests in one family's way is so little time.

So much to do, so little time

I will be writing more soon but right now, my daughter Chelsea had her baby one month early, Jasmine is good just small. My father in law is in Hospice House now and not expected to make it more than a few days. I will update the blog next week when things settle again. Thanks for your patience and prayers everyone

Two steps forward, three steps back

Robby and I talked on the phone at the end of June. It made me reflect on a lot of things about my own life, how I view things and how what I used to think was important really isn't. No one ever really knows when their time is going to be up. No one has an expiration date stamped on their foot like a gallon of milk. Life is short and we all need to take advantage of any form of happiness when it presents itself.

Robby is preparing for a kidney transplant and has a real possibility of dieing. His kidney function gets worse every month but he isn't giving up. He has a friend at work who is willing to donate one of her kidneys to him and give him a chance to live long enough to get to know our granddaughter who is due at the end of August. He has a nice life-partner right now so I am happy for that.

We were always good friends. When we decided to marry it filled a need for both of us. Don't get me wrong, we loved each other but it was not the kind of love to sustain a marriage but more like the kind that sustains a life long friendship. While planning the wedding my mom would get some not so kind calls asking why is her daughter marrying that "fag". The ink was barely dry on the end of the last marriage so she could not figure out why I was jumping into another one. I guess looking back, I was always one of those people who kept trying to get it right. Failure was not an option this time. At least this time I knew he wasn't going to beat me like a dog the way Stu did, I was safe with Robby.

I was in complete denial of him being gay. How could he be, he was my best friend and we liked all the same things! To me he was the perfect Mr. Right (now) because he loved to shop, he helped take care of my son, was there when I needed a boost in my ego. He was everything I needed when I needed it. I was what he needed too. I was there when he wanted to talk, I was there because he needed to feel needed and he so wanted a family and a child to take care of. His step father was a good influence on him and showed him that a child doesn't need to be of your blood, to love them as if they were. He saved Gayle, when she was trying to raise Robby and his sister Deena on her own. He made sure they had what they needed and took care of Gayle when she was sick and had her kidney transplant.

After the wedding we lived in mom's rental house four blocks from Robby's moms home. He was a Mommy's boy ( should have been a clue) and she did not like me from the time we started dating. Nobody was ever going to be good enough for her little boy and I do mean nobody. We butted heads from day one but I was stubborn, she said I was making a mistake so I needed to prove to her it wasn't. I swear I need my head examined because even today I still feel the need to prove I'm right. Gayle and I fought over everything from how I kept house, or lack of it, to how Robby did too much and I needed to help bring in some money and not just stay home with the baby. It wasn't long after the wedding I was feeling like all in laws needed to be a long distance phone call away so I pushed Robby into finding a new job in a new state. Not much was available so that was going to take time.

He was waiting tables in a fine restaurant in town so we were doing OK, not well but making it. Then I got pregnant with Chelsea. Austin wasn't even a year old so I was freaked out by this but Robby was bouncing off the walls. I was scared to tell him at first, remembering how horrible it was when I told Stu I was pregnant but this was total opposite. I wasn't going to make food because Robby was so good at it and I could screw up boiling water, so I decided to wait till he came home from work and just give him the test. He acted like he just won the lottery. He jumped up and down happy as anyone I had ever seen before. Wow, this is how its supposed to be, finally I got it right. He took such good care of me while i was pregnant. We even moved to Texas to get me away from the stresses . We were a real family and I was happy. Not for long though...

Pregnancy is never fun but this was nothing like my first. I was so sick for so long and she kept trying to come early. I was working delivering pizza so we could make ends meet but I couldn't work full time because I was just too tired. I was grateful Austin was such a good baby and not too demanding as he was growing. He loved to nap with mommy and I could put him in a play pen and he enjoyed playing by himself so I could rest or take a hot bath. I was making a delivery and went into labor with her. The guy who got the pizza was funny, he said "Hey I just ordered a pizza not a baby" and was nice enough to let me use his phone to get my manager to meet me at the hospital to take my money bag. She was still too small so they stopped my labor and sent me to my old doc in New Mexico. I had to spend my last month back home at my moms house till it was safe for her to be born. Mom didn't mind, she got more cuddle time with Austin and could re spoil him all over but to me, this felt so bad, so deja vu.

Chelsea was born six weeks early, she was small and very demanding. Robby made it for her delivery and was in the delivery room this time. He was so happy, glowing, proud. He was so happy when we took her home to Texas and could start that new chapter in our life and to be honest so was I. We were home only a couple weeks and the problems started. Chelsea stopped breathing and had to be rushed to the hospital. She had sleep apnea and had to be on a baby monitor when she was sleeping. A new level of sleep deprivation was more than I could take so Robby would help me a lot with her. I was breast feeding but if he could have done it he would have.

With two in diapers now the bills would mount up. Austin was on solid foods and only 16 months older than Chelsea so he still had a lot of baby needs. He was growing so fast and growing out of his clothes, shoes and everything else. Mom was wonderful, she would send "Care Packages" to try and help. Chelsea had a lot of medical needs and they were not cheap either. We had to move a lot because we had to find places we could afford. Money was just never there it seemed no matter how hard Robby worked. The last place we lived was so bad, Austin came in to tell me there was a kitty on the bed with Chelsea. I went to look and it wasn't a kitty, it was a giant rat on the bed with my sleeping baby and chewing on her bottle that lay next to her. After that I freaked and we moved the next day to a new city. We moved to a border town on the New Mexico/Texas line and Robby got a job managing a Dairy Queen restaurant. He seemed to be happy and we moved into a trailer across the street from the place so he didn't have to drive to work. Things were OK for a couple of months but just when you think everything is going right, that's when life decides to rear its ugly head and slap the comfortable right out of you.

Sometimes the brain takes a holiday

My little Austin made it into the world and now its my job to care for him. He was just so tiny in my eyes. He was a good size baby at seven pounds ten ounces but looking at him he was just so helpless. Being a teen mom I was woefully unprepared for what was to come. The sleep deprivation alone is enough to kill you. Thank God I was living at home with my parents but even so, he was not their baby and I had to be responsible. Middle of the night feedings, diaper changes, baths and comfort holds. Babies are a lot more work than they look like on TV, its not like the soap opera where they put the baby to bed and a few weeks later, he or she comes down stairs as a five yr old. They require all of your attention and at this time you realize that your needs now come second to this little person who depends on you for everything. Never in my life did I think I would fall for a fat little bald man but looking at my new son, I was in love.

Mom was so helpful to me in getting Austin on a schedule. After all she was the ultimate mommy and I didn't realize how good she was until I had one of my own. With her help, Austin was sleeping through the night at 11 days and I was no longer going through my day looking like the head zombie from Dawn of the Dead. Every night they had a ritual too, at 7pm she would sit and rock him for 2hrs. She called it "granny time" and treasured every minute of it. Boy would that come back to haunt me later.

Robby was great. He came by everyday to spend time with us. He would even hold Austin and rock him so I could take a nap. He did all the things that a daddy was supposed to do with his son, all the things Stu didn't want to do. Robby didn't have money, but he did have the thing I thought I needed most at the time...he was there.

Robby's own father was not there when he was growing up. He also knew what it was like to have a chemically dependent father who couldn't be asked to be there when he needed him and didn't want the same fate for Austin. His step father came in later so he knew that being the biological father was not near as important to a child as being a "Daddy". When he wanted to take me out, he wanted the baby to come too. We were like a little family. This is how it was supposed to be right? A mommy, a daddy and baby makes three? This was foreign territory for me being that my parents were still married. I never had step parents, didn't have to split the holidays, never had to remember two addresses. Robby had been through this so I figured he was the expert and I needed to trust that it would all work out.

Stu and I were divorced but the arguments didn't really end. He fought the child support tooth and nail and even quit his job so he wouldn't have to pay as much. He didn't want to see Austin unless I was there and seeing him was too hard for me. I was still breastfeeding him so I couldn't leave Austin with Stu's parents for too long or he would be fussy after a couple hours. I couldn't trust him to take Austin alone so he was only allowed to see him at his moms. He wouldn't accept this, it wasn't the way he wanted it so he decided to end this completely. I got papers in the mail from his lawyer and ordered to come to court. Stu was relinquishing all parental rights so he wouldn't have to pay child support anymore. Happy Birthday to me. Yes, that's right, court was on the Friday before my birthday.

I was devastated again. My parents were supporting us financially and that was not fair to them. I needed to get a job and start taking care of us myself. I got a job as a secretary for a plumber. It didn't pay the best but I could take Austin to work with me and had his play pen next to my desk. This was horrible for me. I was a mom now and to me, that meant staying home and raising my son. That's how my mom did it so I thought that's the way it was supposed to be. How could this have gone so wrong?

Robby was there through all of this too. He tried to show me the silver lining and that if Stu didn't want us, he surely did. Robby liked playing the role of night in shining armor, it suited him well at the time. He was used to taking care of women. His mom was sick most of his life with Polycystic Kidney Disease so he took care of her and even helped raise his little sister. If he could do all that, taking care of us was surly going to be a walk in the park. I was a train wreck and he was the clean up crew. Shortly after the court papers were finalized Robby proposed. I was thrilled, I wasn't going to be a single mom, if Prince Charming didn't exist, at least a Knight was coming to save me.

Robby had never been married before so he wanted a wedding. This was fine with me, but mom was about ready to crawl under a rock and die. My divorce was in January, Austin was born in April and now I was planning an October wedding? I'm sure she was wondering where my mind had gone and what she had done in a past life to deserve this. It was happy I wasn't going to be alone but once again, mom was worrying I was jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire...you have to just hate it when some people are never wrong.

Welcome to motherhood

The divorce was nasty. For two people that had nothing you would think it would be a simple process. Lawyers are the ones who make it more difficult than it needs to be. A couple months before the divorce I was in a car accident. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit me at 10am. I thought to myself at the time I have heard of the liquid lunch but he must have poured beer on his Wheaties or something. At least I wasn't hurt badly in the accident, the baby was OK but the car was totaled. All because of his parasitic mouth piece, Stu now wanted half the value of a car no one could drive. We lived in his grandmothers home so there was no property to fight over but I did want child support for our baby who was due in April. I still had nothing ready for the baby so I figured if I got child support I could at least get some things before he blew all his money on drugs and alcohol.

Because of his lawyer he was now questioning the paternity of our unborn child. I was in complete shock. I was dedicated to him, how could he do this? How could he think I would possibly see someone else and when would I have time? His grandmother, who was usually a very quiet woman, ripped him to shreds when she heard about this tactic. She took that "what will the neighbors say" attitude and this time I was glad she did. I must admit I had to laugh seeing her grab him by the ear, drag him over to me and made him apologize for being so horrible for even thinking this baby wasn't his. She told him he needed to be a man and take care of things. He took this to mean try and get us back together but that wasn't going to happen. We tried a couple times but it was like beating a dead horse, he just couldn't stop drinking and getting high. As hard as it was I had to let go of the dream and sign the papers to end my marriage.

Robby was my best friend in high school and was instrumental at helping me through my grief. We had the best times before so it was natural to lean on him. We talked for hours, he tried to tell me it wasn't my fault and not to take it so hard. He promised to be there to help me when the baby was born and even help me raise him if I needed help. It was the answer to my prayers...or so I thought.

Being the captain of the S.S. Denial I missed a lot of red flags. When we were in school, Robby and I would go shopping, go to the mall, laugh and giggle all night. He had excellent style and his knowledge of shoes and designer clothes was impressive to me. He spent almost as much time in a mirror getting ready as I did. He was the only boy my mom never worried about me with. We would go cruising the strip and she never said a word. He was the only boy in high school that never tried to get into my panties and I thought that was sweet.

Robby came over everyday to check on me. He brought me flowers, candy and things for the baby. He was an attentive boyfriend, and the total opposite of Stu. We would spend hours window shopping for baby stuff and talk about how we would design the nursery. He would talk to me about my fears and try to ease them. He would take me out even when I felt fat and not very pretty and never once was he out of line. We went dancing almost every weekend and he made sure I didn't sit on the sideline. I was "his girl" now and he was proud to show me off. While we were out one night I went into labor on the dance floor. At first it looked like I was starting some new dance craze but it was soon apparent this was not the case. Robby turned white as a ghost and went into frantic mode. We were in a town 30 minutes from home and he drove a 1969 V.W. Bug. Last thing either of us wanted was to have to deliver in such a tiny car. We called my parents and told them to meet us at the hospital and Robby drove that bug at top speed praying we would make it.

I will be the first to tell you I am a baby when it comes to pain. If I had been born back in the day I would not have survived at all. Natural childbirth is fine for some women, I'm just not one of them. I am a firm believer in drugs and figured the epidural was invented for a reason and who was I to deny medical progress. I was so unprepared for just how painful labor was going to be. I remember Hope from Days of Our Lives having her baby and it was a beautiful thing. Mine did not resemble this at all. I'm screaming like a banshee in the car with each contraction and watching Robby get paler and paler with each one. We made it to the hospital and everyone was waiting on us. I was so glad to be there because someone needed to make this stop long enough for me to get ready. My hair and makeup was a mess and I was tired. I wasn't ready for this so whom ever was in charge needed to fix this.

My doctor showed up and told me he had to stop my labor because it was still too early for the baby to be born. He wanted me to go another month so I needed to be admitted in and drugs started. This was fine with me, I was exhausted and wanted a good nights sleep ( as if this is possible when your 8 months pregnant) and figured we could discuss this in the morning. He started the meds and the contractions finally stopped. Robby didn't leave my side and even slept in the chair in my room. He would bring me ice cream and make me laugh, he held my hand and wiped my tears. Every time the meds wore off my labor would come back. For five long days I would go into labor and they would stop it over and over again. If having babies was this hard, how did women have more than one?

Finally on the sixth day my doctor had a golf game to go to and a new doctor came in. He read my chart and talked to me. He couldn't believe I had been in labor this long and things had to change. He took me off the meds to stop my labor and gave me ones to speed this process up. By this time I just wanted him out. Being pregnant was not as glamorous as TV made it look and I wanted to see my feet again. Robby stayed by me the whole time. We knew we had to call Stu to let him know that today was the day. It wasn't going to be easy but he was the father and needed to be with me. Stu of course was no where to be found. It was crushing to know that he couldn't even show up for the birth of his first child but I'm not sure why I was surprised. Again, Robby stepped up to the plate and held my hand through the pain. Twelve hours of labor pass and still no baby. How could this be? TV babies are born in under 30 minutes including commercials. I was exhausted all over again and they decide its time for a C-section. Finally, someone needed to get this thing out of me before I just die. Robby was good but would faint at the sight of blood. He couldn't go into the OR with me so my friend Dawn went in. Laying on the table, the last thing that went through my head before the anesthesia took hold was "I hope he is healthy because I'm so NOT doing this again".

I awoke feeling much lighter and no longer having a sense of some one's foot playing the xylophone with my ribcage. Mom had tears in her eyes and going on about how beautiful my son was. When we first found out I was going to have a boy, she said we could always take him to the vet and get him fixed. It was her running joke because she didn't want him to be anything like his father and she really wanted me to have a girl. All that was forgotten now, from the first time she laid eyes on him, she was hooked and he was perfect in her eyes. She was also happy she was the first to get to hold him. Once she knew I was all there she went to the nursery to bring me my son. He was perfect. All of his fingers and toes, his little button nose and blond peach fuzz on his little head. He was stuck when they tried to take him out and had a 5cm ring on the top of his head. It looked like a tiny halo and I knew he was my angel. My little angel christened me with his first diaper change and mom almost peed herself laughing so hard. Welcome to motherhood was all she could get out through the hysterical laughter.

Reality has a mean right hook

I used to be very athletic. I would take walks and even jogged back in the day. On one of those occasions I was jogging in the neighborhood and came across some eye candy. Stu was working on his Camaro in the driveway of his parents’ very nice home. He had potential and was on the “dangerous” end of the scale. He was blond but it was a darker dirty blond. His blue eyes were just dreamy and even though he wasn't a “perfect” picture of the prince, he was a lot better than anything I had seen in this place.

A senior in high school I remembered seeing him in the halls of the old school. He was two years older so I wasn't going to be forbidden to see him. Now all I needed to do was get him to notice me. Like a world class fisherman I baited the hook and set out to reel in the big one. I wore short shorts, did the hair and makeup just perfect. I would walk to about a block away then jog down the street he lived on. I couldn't risk messing up the hair or sweating by jogging the whole route. It only took two days before he stopped me and asked if I was new to the area. We started talking and he showed me his car, trying to get my attention as much as I tried to get his. There was chemistry from the start so it wasn't a surprise we were inseparable almost from the start.

He spoiled me for a long time. He loved to hear about all the places I had been and wanted to know all he could about me. He loved to hear me talk about myself and my dreams and promised to make each one come true. We would go out every weekend even if it was just to drive around in his awesome Camaro. He showed me off to all his friends and never left my side. The best part was being included in everything he wanted to do. He would bring me flowers that he picked from other people’s gardens. This should have been a clue that he didn't want to spend money unless it was on himself but at the time I thought it was so romantic. His parents were still together and were young when they married as well. We had so much in common or so we thought. We would go to the park near his house and stare at the stars. The stars seemed brighter and the conversations deeper when you are young. We knew everything already so no one could tell us different .We just wanted to be together forever and no one was going to stop us.

Stu had been hurt before by girls who were not faithful, I wasn't going to have a problem with that. My mom was faithful to S.D. even though he was a Tom cat. All the women in my family took the “forsaking all others” very seriously and mom raised me to think the same way. I didn't claim the paternal side of my family so I could pull this one off easy. S.D. was the Antichrist of husbands so I knew if Stu hated cheaters, I was going to have the perfect husband.

He was an incredible guitar player and was going to be a rock star, if that didn't work out; he was going to college for computers as a “back up plan” so to speak, but we just knew he was going to be the next Randy Rhoads. He would play for hours and I couldn't get enough of listening to him. After about a year, we both realized that Ozzy Osbourne wasn't going to be rolling into town and offering him the break of a lifetime.

He shared with me his love of music and cars. I didn't know squat when it came to cars but I listened as if every word he spoke was the gospel. One day he was working on the car again and decided I could help. This was a major mistake but I felt so special he trusted me. The carburetor was being worked on and he needed me to spray the cleaner into it while he tried to start the car. Being that I was only sixteen I was unaware that he just wanted a few quick squirts from the can. I sent a continuous spray of highly flammable liquid into this poor motor. As it burst into flames I must admit the colors of the flames were impressive. Unfortunately the color of red that Stu’s face turned was not so pretty. I had just torched his pride and joy but he still loved me.

I needed to nudge him into a more military career choice if he was going to be anything like the man who claimed to be my father. To me, the military was the vehicle to moving around and continuing my adventurous spirit. He joined the National Guard, it wasn't the full military but I figured this was close enough. I remember crying as he went off to basic training for twelve weeks. It felt like an eternity and I just knew I wouldn't survive this separation. I was so distraught I even took one of his t-shirts to use as a pillowcase to sleep with his scent. I missed him so bad I wrote letters to him almost everyday. He looked so good in his uniform. It was so very sexy to me and I knew I had found the one. When he returned from basic, he proposed and I thought finally my life was back on the path it was designed to take.

We dated for about two years before getting married. No this was not near long enough but I had self deception down to a fine art. He made me feel like the most important thing in his life and that made me blind to any faults he had. They say love is blind, but it is also deaf, dumb and in most cases for me, toxic. I think mom had a feeling this was a train wreck but no one could convince me this wasn't going to work. She refused to sign the papers that would allow me marry under the age of eighteen but S.D. was easily manipulated. I also knew his dirty little secrets so by this time; I could write my own ticket and get what ever I wanted. He signed the papers and I got my marriage license. Mom was a trooper. She has always been the one to put a shining light on even the worst disaster. This had to be the worst month in her life. We had prom one weekend, graduation the next, and finally a wedding on the third. She lived on Pepto-Bismal the whole time but never complained, well not in public. She must have lost twenty pounds that month. I thought it was to fit into her dress but later found out it was because she couldn't hold food down knowing I was about to make the same dumb mistake she did.

The wedding was beautiful. Mom planned all the details perfectly like only she could. She was the original Martha Stewart when it came to planning an event. She didn't really want to do this but she wanted to make me happy and make that good impression by hosting the perfect event. I wore my mother’s wedding dress and that made her happy. My friends and family were all gathered together; even the relatives you would rather hide in the closet were on their best behavior. The flowers, the cake, everything was perfect. I was nervous but excited. I did it, I was about to begin my destiny. Like the women in my family before me, I found my prince and ‘happily ever after’ was about to begin.

I found myself married, now what? Reality comes and slaps you in the face. We think of the wedding and how it should be, we think of the honeymoon and how that will be perfect but when the party is over and the guests go home its just the two of you. There were many things I didn't think about before I got married. One of the first things I realized was toothpaste and toilet paper doesn't magically appear in the bathroom, you have to actually go to the store and buy it. The reality came when I had to use my own money to do it. No longer could I just grab some plastic from S.D.’s wallet and go blindly through the isles of the store without batting an eye at price. Stu was working at a Pizza Hut so minimum wage was a new thing for me to deal with. I had never paid bills in my life. That wasn't my job so I was once again in foreign territory. I was a party girl and this was not my idea of fun. I would go to him for money and found most times he had spent it on alcohol or weed. I will admit I didn't complain when the party was at our house but I did want my basic needs met too. There is only so much partying you can do before the rent is due.

In June I developed a pretty bad urinary tract infection. It was probably from all the partying we had been doing and lack of taking care of myself. Water was good but whiskey was better. I went to the doctor and got the prescription thinking all was going to be fine now. July was good but August it came back, or so I thought. I went back to the doctor to tell him my symptoms returned so he ran more tests. It seemed like an eternity and he came back in the room with a little white box. On the top of this box was a very clear plus sign. With a smile on his face, he looks at me and says “your kidney infection is gone but the reason you feel the need to pee all the time is because you’re pregnant”. I sat there in complete shock. He had to be wrong, mixed the results with someone else because I was on the pill. I took it religiously and I don’t mean every Sunday. The doctor giggled and explained to me that some antibiotics made birth control pills ineffective. Oh how nice to tell me this now, little closing the gate after the horse already escaped. I had just turned eighteen, only been married three months and had no intentions of having children until my party days were over and we partied like it would never end. Stu and I were doing OK but the things were still new. Things are a lot different when you are living together than they were when you were just dating and we were still in that getting to know you stage of the marriage and I was finding things I didn't like very well. I was scared to say the least. We had talked about children before but we both agreed we wanted to have as much fun as possible before we settled down to have kids. At the time all I could think of was how hard it was for the two of us to make ends meet, adding a baby was going to make it even harder. I was extremely selfish and a baby was going to take away from me and what I wanted. Guess it was time to grow up, put the party animal to sleep and usher in a new addition to my life. A million things ran through my mind. Could I handle a baby? Could I do as good a job raising him or her as my mother had done? How will we do this without the resources my parents had? I knew we were not where I wanted us to be when it came time to having children but I was never one to back down from a challenge.

When I left the doctor’s office I called my mom and the first words out of her mouth were “Oh shit”. Not exactly comforting but at least she was honest. She knew this day would come but hoped it wasn't going to be this quickly either. She tried to be funny about it telling me that making her a grandmother before she turned forty was communistic. She reminded me that this was no longer the Stone Age and that Roe vs. Wade had not been overturned, no matter how the pro lifers tried, so I had options. I was pro choice, but that didn't seem to be something I wanted to do for me. I figured this happened for a reason so I was going to have this baby. She was supportive after the initial shock wore off but what scared me more was if mom reacted like this, how was Stu going to take it?

Stu was working so I had a few hours to get the house cleaned up and make a nice dinner. I remembered that if you have news to tell someone, good or bad, it goes down better with food. My culinary skills were not developed yet so the only thing I really knew how to make was Mac n Cheese or Hamburger Helper. I made the helper in hopes this would be a good talk. He stayed late to drink with the boys after work so the food was cold when he finally got home. No surprise there, he drank like a fish. It wasn't a problem when we drank together but now I was pregnant so drinking and getting high was out of the question. I had done some heavy duty partying over the Fourth of July weekend not knowing I would conceive at that time, I didn't need to do anymore damage than I may have already done. I told him I was pregnant and he acted like I just told him to pass the salt. No real reaction. Where was his shock, where was his fear, where was his roller coaster of emotion? OK maybe this is a guy thing, they don’t get worked up like girls do. It actually hit him the next day. I learned at that time never to tell important news to people who are not sober. Similarly I learned not to have fights with them because they don’t remember a word you said.

Before I got pregnant, his drinking and getting high didn't bother me because I partied just as hard as he did. For two years he was my best party boy. His father was a police officer so it wasn't like we would be busted. Our house was the place to be every weekend. Things were different now, everything was about to change and I needed to prepare for that. Unfortunately I was the only one in this relationship willing to grow up and be responsible. From the minute I found out a little one was coming I stopped drinking and didn't touch a drug. I didn't let anyone smoke weed near me either because I heard somewhere that the smoke was bad for the baby. It made the dog high so I couldn't risk it around me. I couldn't quit smoking cigarettes but at that time it wasn't thought to be that bad. I found as the pregnancy progressed that he was not near as much fun when he was drinking and I wasn't. His temper grew when I would complain about needing money or that I couldn't do the liquid dinner, I needed real food now that I was eating for two. I didn't understand why he couldn't stop. It was easy for me to stop; all I had to do was think of the healthy baby I wanted to deliver. I never even craved it while I was pregnant so I didn't understand why he could not give it up for us.

As I suspected, the rent wasn't getting paid and we had to move in with his elderly grandmother. She was a nice woman but she was brought up in the same era as GG. Woman were seen and not heard, we were to be subservient to the man, and cleaning house was the most important job. Although she was almost completely deaf, he couldn't party at her house because she was anti alcohol. She thought prohibition should have never ended; it was the drink of the devil. That was fine with him because he had more than enough places to get high at. When you work at a pizza hut and bring “mistakes” to a buddy’s house, you’re more than welcome to stay for a while. She went to bed early so it wasn't hard to stumble in without being seen. I was feeling more and more left out. It was not easy to sit at home doing nothing while he was out having fun. It was difficult for me to live there because his grandma had taken over taking caring for him. She cooked dinners, did laundry and even made our bed. Most people wouldn't complain about this, but it left me nothing to do. It was a constant reminder that this was not my home; I was a visitor who stayed longer than most.

The fights we had escalated and the tension was growing. Most of our fights were verbal. I could deal with those. Now that I was no longer the party girl he married, it wasn't long until he felt it was OK to push me around. I didn't really know how to react or cope with that. I had never seen S.D. put his hands on mom so there was no reference point to go to. I had never been exposed to domestic violence so I didn't know what to do. Stu would always come back after he sobered up and apologize. He promised it would never happen again. It was a lie of course but I desperately wanted to believe it. Clinging to the lie that this could work out was easier than admitting defeat. Everyday I would try harder and harder to be what he needed me to be so he wouldn't feel the need to drink himself to oblivion. If I was a better wife, he would feel that my company was better than the bottom of a bottle. When you’re young, you will try to convince yourself that you can somehow control the behavior of others just by trying. I needed to “fix” him and his problem with alcohol. With the right amount of love and attention I could do this…or so I tried to convince myself.

He was drinking more than before and by now our fights were full blown knock down drag outs. I would make the mistake of blocking the door so he couldn't leave. I wanted to finish this discussion and all he wanted to do was go out with the boys. Hindsight is 20/20 and I admit I was a nag when it came to him going out but when you’re eighteen and pregnant, you just want him to stay with you, not leave you behind because the guys are more fun. We didn't have a castle of our own, we didn't have a bed for the baby, and he didn't have a clue how we were going to do this. I needed things for the new baby and he was drinking or smoking what little we had. It was fun playing house but he didn't want that part to stop by being burdened with the responsibility of being a daddy.

When we had the big fights I could be just as violent as he was. I couldn't punch him back as hard as he would me but I could throw a mean ashtray or beer bottle. As I got further along he would have the upper hand. Hard to do damage on him when your trying to protect the baby inside. By the time I was showing I tried to protect my stomach as much as possible. The final straw for me was the night he knocked me down and started to kick me in the back and stomach. He told me it was my fault that I was pregnant (like he had nothing to do with it) and I had ruined his life by keeping the baby. He left the house, leaving me on the floor crying. I realized quickly that I couldn't walk. Something was wrong and my stomach was having contractions. I knew I needed medical attention but his grandmother couldn't hear my screams in the fight, she definitely couldn't hear me calling out for help. I had no phone in that room so I dragged myself to the kitchen. I called my parents to take me to the hospital. I was so ashamed. I was able to explain away past bruises and avoid seeing people until facial bruises healed. This time, I couldn't hide it anymore; my baby’s life was at stake. I was admitted into the hospital for several days so they could monitor the baby and give me a chance to relax. The stress I was under was not good for the baby and if I didn’t get proper rest I could have premature labor.

I moved out of his grandmothers and back to my parent’s home. Filing for divorce a few months later was the hardest thing I ever had to do and I felt like the biggest loser on the planet. People tried to tell me I was too young, I didn’t know what I was doing and I got several of the “I told you so” stares. I tried everything I knew to make this marriage work. I tried to be a good wife but I was obviously failing on a grand scale. Mom made her marriage work, I couldn’t make my marriage last one year, and so what did I do wrong?

Depressed and living in denial I couldn’t imagine that this was Stu’s fault. There had to be something lacking in me that made it impossible for him to be the man I needed him to be. I mean, I picked him right? He didn’t seek me out; I baited the hook and reeled him in. He was the father of my unborn child, my soon to be ex Prince Charming and it had all gone so terribly wrong. Now look at me, I'm moving into my old room as a soon to be single teenage mother; this was far from the fairytale life I envisioned.

The Quest Begins

Being a military brat we moved a lot. This meant I was exposed to many cultures, many different styles of living and all the different classes of people. I liked that it was one giant melting pot growing up. After seeing what was out there, or so I thought, I knew what I wanted Prince Charming to look like. My picture was of him having dark hair, dark eyes, most likely European or Mediterranean and of course, the perfect body. Its amazing how when we are young, the only thing we think about is the physical part of others. For all I knew Prince could be dumb as dirt but as long as he was “hot” and relatively wealthy I wouldn’t have cared. I was not a patient person. Mom tried all she could to teach that to me but I couldn’t be asked to slow down for a lesson. I didn’t want to wait for Prince to find me so I set out to find him.

I was not the most graceful of children and this followed me into my teen years. I was a member of a church youth group (yes, I know many who know me are splitting their sides laughing now) and we were at a skating party. I am left handed and had broken my right wrist a few weeks before from falling down the steps. I was looking forward to getting the cast off in a couple weeks when the skating event came up. The night was going well until someone made a fast stop in front of me. What followed resembled a twenty one car pileup. My little brother was involved in the crash and landed on top of my left wrist with his skate. He broke his leg when someone else fell on him. The trip to the hospital was not fun for my mom. We arrived at the hospital where S.D. worked. Sure enough my wrist was broken so now I was going to have casts on BOTH of my wrists. My brother got a cast on his leg and some of the nurses in the ER were looking at mom like she was some sort of monster. She was in shock by how bad we looked and wanted to put both of us in a rubber room so we couldn’t possible do anymore damage. She threatened to make us wear t-shirts that said “my mom did not do this to us”. The scary part to this is when we were in Japan we had a “sew lady” that made some of the coolest clothes for us, so we knew if she was serious, we would have had the shirts at anytime.

At the hospital, the dreamiest man I had ever seen came in to take the x-ray of my wrist. He was perfect. He had all the physical attributes I was looking for and a career in medicine meant he could support me in a lifestyle to which I could become accustomed. I was a total flirt then trying everything to get his attention. It helped that I looked older than my age. I couldn’t lie about it because he had my medical chart in front of him but I was too cute for being fourteen years old. He wasn’t that old and still new to the military so easily intimidated. S.D. told him he could see me but if he touched me, he would wind up in some horrible tour of duty like Midway Island or Guam. It was a short lived relationship because mom was still protecting me from myself and watched me like a hawk. He could come over and watch TV but I wasn’t allowed to really “date”. I just knew it was totally unfair. I was a complete drama queen back then and had regular fits when I thought things were unfair. Like a Shakespearean tragedy I just knew she was trying to sabotage my future. I had found the perfect man and she didn’t like it. She must have been right though because today, I can’t remember the name of my Dr. Dreamy.

I dated a lot of other boys in school while we were overseas. Most of them made my parents insane. If they hated him, he became that much more attractive to me. He could have had horns growing out of his head or a third eye, but if he made my mom’s brow sweat, I was “in love”. I was extremely shallow as a teenager. I would break up with a guy if his dad wasn’t high enough rank, if he didn’t show me complete attention or even something as trivial as not remembering a one month anniversary. I was a princess after all and demanded to be treated like one. My mirror was my best friend. My makeup had to be perfect; I had to have the best clothes and shoes. It would be safe to say I was the poster child for Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I was a material girl in every sense of the word.

Living on Okinawa, the weather was always wonderful so we would go to the beach a lot. It was a lot like California to me with the exception of the occasional Typhoon. As with any paradise, you can’t stay forever and it was time to head out for the next adventure. Our tour of Asia was over and it was time to return to the USA. I was not thrilled we were not going to Europe or California. I had seen all I was going to be able to see in Asia and I wanted desperately to go to Europe, but at least California still had beaches and lots of sun.

Mom was excited that S.D was retiring after twenty years in. She was tired of traveling and wanted to set roots for us in her home state of New Mexico. I had a complete fit. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why the hell they would want to disrupt my life by sticking me in a state with no beach, no base and no chance of moving. What made matters worse, this strange place we were going to, would have this white powdery substance they called snow. I experienced snow on a shopping trip to Korea once and figured out rather quickly I didn’t like it. I was used to moving, traveling and making new adventures, sun and fun, this felt like I was sentenced to death row and wasn’t sure what my crime was.

We got to New Mexico and got very lucky. We moved into the house with GG and my grandparents. My cousin and her family also moved in to be closer to GG. Their house was being built next door and not ready yet. GG was saying she wanted the family closer together but I don’t think this is quite what she planned on. Wasn’t long before she figured out the meaning behind “be careful what you wish for because you just may get it”. I broke out with Chicken Pox three days after we got there. If I would have broke out on the plane, or even right before we left, I could have been placed in quarantine until it was determined I didn’t have more than a childhood disease. Now I look like Typhoid Mary bringing some tropical disease into the house. All the kids got it so we were like little terrorists, completely miserable and demanding attention. This was not what GG was used to either. I don’t think she could have foreseen three sick kids and too many adults invading her small farmhouse. We kids didn’t have a problem with it, but the stress on the adults was not hard to see.

I couldn’t start school right away because of the chicken pox. Even when they were healing over I refused to go till my face was clear. How was I to make a good impression if I looked like a pizza face? When it finally cleared I found myself in a whole new world. With all my other schools, we all had one thing in common, we were all military brats. In this civilian jungle they dropped me in, I was all alone. This was foreign territory to me and I didn’t navigate it well. No one dressed like me; no one talked like me and most looked at me like I was a circus freak. The name on their butt was Wrangler where the one on mine said Calvin Klein and Gloria Vanderbilt. For me, traveling was normal, for them, it was unheard of. Most of the girls didn’t like me because they thought I was stuck up. I was, but it’s just how I was. The boys liked me but I think it was because to them, I was fresh DNA to be added to the gene pool as well as a glimmer of hope that they wouldn’t have to take their cousin to prom.

New Mexico was not my idea of a great place to live. Most of the boys were cute enough but most had all been raised where they were born and had no intention of getting out and seeing the world. It reminded me of a southwestern version of Deliverance. Roswell was cowboy country and my grandparents were living in the country. Everyone seemed to know everyone and all their business. I was indeed scared to death I was going to be stuck in this dust bowl for the rest of my life. S.D. decided he wanted to go to this smaller town called Portales so he could continue his education. Fine with me, we were moving again, so maybe the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t the train coming to run me over. I was wrong of course but the ignorant bliss was a safe place to be.

We get to Portales and sure enough, it was smaller than Roswell. It had a college so S.D. could begin the first of his many mid life crises. My mom decided she wanted to do something with her life more than being a mommy. She got her real estate license and took a job outside the home. I started a new school and it was even worse than the other. These kids were mean, and were not at all excepting of an outsider. I understood that there were clicks in schools, even military schools had them, but this was the first time I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere at all. I felt trapped like an animal in a cage. I was fifteen years old and trying to figure out who I was. As if raging hormones were not bad enough, I didn’t fit in, had no friends and stuck in a place with no beach. Again I thought why is everything changing? I was used to change but this was insane. At least the change before had a common theme. We were all “the new kid” at some point. These kids had known each other since preschool. It was impossible to break into that and belong.

Dating boys in school became impossible. I knew there had to be a better way. Prince Charming wasn’t going to find me in this Podunk town and two years till graduation felt like a lifetime. Mom was married at 17 and at this rate I was going to be an old maid in my mind.

I transferred to an even smaller school because I was constantly getting into fights with the other girls. They didn’t like when I saw their ex boyfriends and because I was an outsider, I was an easy target. The new school was in the country. My class was small to say the least. I made number eleven. I also disrupted the balance. We now had six girls and five boys in the class. All I could think was someone kill me now please. There was no way I could date any of these boys. They were already paired up and had been since kindergarten. I still lived in the same town and drove myself to school in my 1971 Ford Pinto. I’m sure Ralph Nader is somewhere cringing right about now. It wasn’t the sexiest car to say the least but it was mine. Mom decided to try to teach me the value of money. She wouldn’t just buy me one, but said I needed to earn the money since I had a job. I thought to myself I really needed to find the prince because if I had to do this on my own, I was going to drive crap cars forever and that was completely unacceptable.

The good part to going to this school was it was closed on Mondays. A four day school week, what more could a kid want. Working also gave me access to seeing more men. Being in a college town there were plenty of college boys to look at. They were cute, had potential and cars. The problem with them is they were so much older than me. I was developing nicely so it wasn’t hard to turn the heads of the ones I was interested in. Mom was still protective even though she had a job and getting anything past her was like trying to sneak a t-bone steak past a Doberman.

Experience is a wonderful thing, it enables you to recognize a mistake when you're doing it again. As I reflect on past marriages, relationships and "other" things I have done, I think of how differently we see things at different stages and ages of our life. My next post will be painful, but a necessary evil to move out of the pain and into the light. It is an open letter to my daughters in hopes of saving them from some of the landmines life has in store.

The Influences in my life

As little girls we are all read fairy tales on how life is so wonderful and the perfect man will come sweep us off our feet and take us to the beautiful castle. I’m here to tell you I was quite shocked to find my journey was not as smooth as the books led me to believe and “happily ever after” comes with a price.

I looked at my parents relationship as a guide to what marriage and family was supposed to be. They were both young when they married, mom was only 17 and my father (I refer to him as S.D. for my sperm donor) was 21. He had just come home from the war in Vietnam and was only home a week when they got married. Was it storybook from the beginning? I’m sure it was considering all my mothers’ memories of it are not horrible. Mom didn't work when we were little so she was always there when we needed her and she did the whole baking cookies Betty Crocker thing. She drove us to school and was very involved in our lives. I looked at her and thought this is what being a wife all is about. I thought that is how the whole world was; even my grandmother was like that from the outside. Only later would mom admit she had not kissed nearly enough frogs to make an educated decision of this magnitude.

Mom did charity work when we were in school. She taught me the importance of helping people less fortunate and how appearances are everything. She was raised in a time where trouble in the home was to be hidden from the world, it was a “what would the neighbors think” kind of mentality. Dirty laundry was not to be shown so I never learned how to deal with it when I started creating my own. She did all she could to make sure we kids were happy, healthy and in complete ignorance of what a real couple looked like. Mom tried to do it all for S.D. too, lost weight, dressed the best, did her makeup etc. She cooked the meals and tried hard to be June Cleaver. I know she was doing what she thought was best but I think I would have appreciated a little realism to prepare me for the real world, because that real world was not so rosy.

I guess you can say I was sheltered as a child, spoiled was probably a better term. SD was a Navy man so we traveled all over while I was a kid. Every eighteen months or so we would embark on a new adventure with a new base, we saw exotic places, tasted the most elegant of dishes and shopped like there was no tomorrow. One of my favorite shopping sprees was in Korea. We girls packed two empty suitcases each, two changes of panties and lots and lots of cash. We came home with five full suitcases, fur coats and a mink blanket I still have today. I learned to haggle on that trip. Seems there if you don’t haggle on the price, they would be offended. I didn't mind, it made me think I was getting a better deal and gave me more money to spend.

I saw from some of the poorer countries we visited, that not everyone had the best. S.D would talk about the deplorable conditions that some of these people lived in but I had no idea how bad it was till I saw it for myself. I knew I had it good when I saw homeless kids and beggars all over the streets of Olongapo City in the Philippines. At least I had two parents living in the same house; some of these kids had none. On one visit, a baby girl was found in the trash can. It was newborn and one of many of the disposable children I saw there. Mom, who I still believe was born to be a mommy, wanted to take this child home with us and give it a better life. Unfortunately the baby did not make it through the night. It seems her mother was a prostitute and the baby was the product of mixed race. Babies of mixed race were not seen as something of value and the orphanages were filled with them, well the ones that survived.

S.D. helped out with some of the orphanages in the Philippines. I’m sure it was from a guilty conscious figuring he had at least one or two of my siblings in there. He had to go there every few weeks to vaccinate the working girls and all of them knew him by name. He would come home and talk about these poor women and how they try so hard to snag a serviceman so they could “come to America” and have a better life. The Philippine government wanted S.D. to be a director of some sort....something to do with medical needs for their country. It was under Marcos regime at the time so not the most stable place to be in the world. They were showing us Manila, where we would live, armed guards, how safe we would be and the schools we kids would go to. Mom was not thrilled with the idea of living anywhere that would require an armed guard’s presence to even cross the street or go shopping, so she made sure he didn't accept the position. Once again, the needs and safety of her children took top priority. We spent New Years there and seemed like everywhere we turned; some prostitute was calling him over to say hi and wanting to chat. He hid his indiscretions well while I was a child, or maybe mom did, but they looked happy from the outside.

S.D. wasn't very involved in our life but I thought all a dad was supposed to do was provide the money so we could live comfortably and shop till we dropped. When I was a teenager he was less careful about hiding his affairs. He decided to go back to college when I was high school and things pretty much spiraled down the toilet from there. He went into a second childhood at this point. He acted like a teenager himself so it was very confusing to me. With the morals of an alley cat he prowled the campus looking for the next Ms. Right (more like Ms. Right Now) to take care of him. My respect for him was totally gone the day I caught him at another woman’s house. I was not the brightest crayon in the box at the time either because I shoe polished his windshield with the words “Guess who” in an attempt to show him he was busted. He knew it was me because of the handwriting and the words were spelled correctly. My brother is dyslexic so it obviously wasn't him. He tried to tell me it was nothing, they were studying and it was innocent, but I was 16, not 6. I explained to him he could sell crazy somewhere else because I wasn't buying it. We later found out he is Bipolar so it explained a lot of his mood swings and irresponsible behaviors. I’m sure mom had a clue what was going on looking back, but she never let down that facade of everything was wonderful.

Grandma was a wonderful woman while I was growing up and still is today. She is quiet and reserved with an air of class. We spent every summer we could at my grandparents’ home in California. It was nirvana for us. Grandma was the kind of woman you saw in magazines with the perfect home, perfect husband, the perfect life. She was the most domestic woman I ever met. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Very organized, wish I would have inherited that part from her. I was the favorite so I was spoiled a little more I think. She was always active and kept up with us kids. She would take us to the zoo, Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farms, and go swimming with us, She only had one rule; she couldn't get her hair wet. Every Wednesday like clockwork she would go get her hair done. She had the same person every week and they knew how to deal with her “difficult curls”. One summer hell must have frozen over because she decided to go ahead and swim without the little rubber hat. My grandpa was so impressed with her spontaneous “wild side” coming out that they had a party and celebrated with champagne and caviar to commemorate the event. She was happy in California. I don’t think I can remember a time when she wasn't smiling or laughing. She and grandpa were very loving and showed affection to each other all the time. They were constant companions for over fifty years. She lived for my grandpa and him for her. The day we buried him, we lost a part of her as well.

My grandpa was a God to me. He was the perfect man in my eyes and no one will ever change my opinion of that. He was always there for me, taught me to drive, took me to get my ears pierced when mom didn't want it and did anything to make me smile. He was the man who spoiled me and made me think I was a princess. I could do no wrong in that mans eyes and I miss him to this day. He put my grandma on a pedestal and never let her off of it. He would cook Sunday meals and BBQ like no ones business. He worked hard his whole life, callused hands and a work ethic that wouldn't stop. My grandpa was the ultimate man because no matter how hard he worked, he took time to spend with the family and taught us that without family, you have nothing.

Grandpa was a military man too but he wasn't overly strict with us kids. He demanded that we respect our parents even though he wasn't really thrilled with the man my mom chose to marry. Grandpa was down to Earth, he believed in earning a living through hard work, didn't believe in welfare and thought S.D. didn't work hard enough with those sissy hands. Family was to be first even when it would cause a hardship to him. Perfect example of this was when we came home from Japan. We didn't have housing ready but he took us in for over a month. They even left the sunny California coast to move to New Mexico and take care of my Great Grandmother. GG was a real piece of work herself.

GG was raised in a different time, where woman was subservient to man. I don’t remember her husband but what I do know is she waited on him hand and foot. Somehow she was raised to think that if you didn't have a penis then you didn't have a brain. She treated my grandma like dirt, still does at 3499 (OK she is really only 100 yrs old but she acts like she held Moses staff when he went to part the red sea). She is bitter and has nothing good to say about anyone that isn't a male in the family. She doted on my brother, S.D., my uncles and Grandpa but I was just treated as excess baggage and only on rare occasions was I acknowledged for being alive. She was not subtle or reserved. I knew looking at her that this was definitely NOT what I wanted to be when I grew up. It’s funny how even when you try to fight it, some of the evil traits pull through. I have had to struggle with being rude so I guess I got that from her.

S.D. had a mother too. Lu was not the typical grandma. I don’t remember meeting her until I was around seven or eight. Our first meeting was memorable for many it seems. My mom introduced me to this strange woman was and I turned to her, with the sweetest of smiles and asked “Is this the one you call the bitch?” Of course my mom was totally embarrassed and Lu was pissed. I’m not really sure why this shocked her. I was always a curious child and she constantly accused me of not having a filter between my brain and my mouth. Lu was married many times and produced children with each of the different husbands, wow was this a preview of things to come. If I knew then what I know now, I would have ran like the devil had me. She was always distant from me and was the complete opposite of my grandma.

On that visit I asked my mom why Lu didn't like me, I thought at the time that maybe I wasn't good enough for her. She never had girls so I guess I was new territory she didn't care to explore. I wasn't sure how to take that because I had always had plenty of attention from the other set. This was the first time I remember that my parents fought. My mom went from being the quiet, demure woman into a mother lion fighting for her cub who was crying. She told my S.D. to do what ever he had to do, but we were leaving and she would “never darken the doorstep” of the evil witch who treated his kids with contempt. We never went back either, mom was definitely a woman of her words. I was confused for a while but I could see the differences between my mom and Lu. At that point Lu also went on the list of who I didn't want to be like. It was alright because I figured if she didn't want me, I didn't need her. If this was who raised S.D. than it was no wonder he was distant from us too. I got the feeling she was not the doting mother to him that my mom was to us.

Looking back I see I had many influences in my life, some good, and some bad. All taking a turn at painting the canvas that would turn that picture of me from a girl to a woman. I decided when I was young that I wanted the fairy tale too. It seemed so lovely and even slightly better than what mom had. I wanted to find Prince Charming, settle into my castle with servants and hand maids, and have a few little princesses and maybe one prince. Being a product of my upbringing, I wanted the latest chariot, preferably a convertible one; I wanted brand names on my butt and most of all, a platinum card with no limits. I wanted it all and I wanted it now. Let the journey begin.

Honesty is not always the best policy

I must admit I used this trip to manipulate Mystic's behavior. If she got out of line, back talking or general teenage drama queen tantrums, I would simply say "I guess you don't want to go to Canada then do you" and it worked like a charm. Instantly she turned into this sweet little girl who did her chores without complaint. I found the magic potion, the cure all, well at least until we left.

Mystic is an excitable child. Holidays, birthdays, all the things she looked forward to had a countdown. NASA wasn't as excited at putting a man on the moon as this kid was to going to Canada. She researched the route, checked on what we could and could not bring into the country and was so excited when she found she didn't need a passport if we went before June, 1st. Getting a passport can be a lengthy process and she didn't want anything standing in the way of her making a run for the border. She got out of school on May 14 and wanted to leave the next day. It was so hard for her to stay home long enough to see dad come home for a 4 day visit. Don't get me wrong, she loves her daddy, but he isn't Kyle. I had never seen Mystic so full of energy and hope in a long time. After all she had been through, this made her smile again and that made me very happy.

JR had a rare four days off in a row and it was pure torture for her. He made sure to go over the rules and what he expected ( IE: making sure she comes home in the same condition she left in, nothing extra on board). He went over how she needed to make sure she acted like a little lady at all time, after all, she was representing our home, our values and in a small way, America. She was counting the hours by this time. She drove her father and I insane but it was nice to see her not down and depressed.

Now it was time to pack the car for our "adventure" and if I knew then what I know now...I would have packed more Tylenol. She had not slept from excitement and countless cans of Monster mixed with Red Bull. I on the other hand was exhausted from dealing with JR for four days and getting things together for the trip. I went to sleep at midnight only to be awakened by Mystic at 5am ready to go. 36hrs without sleep had not slowed her down any and I was tempted to see if she eaten the energizer bunny. We were off and she was almost insane with joy. She had the map and we got to Kansas City. We had to make a pit stop to give JR some stuff he had left behind. We did a crash course on how to navigate and were on the road again. Two girls traveling the country, a little scary but an adventure just the same.

By the time we hit St Louis, biological need overcame caffeine overdose and she was passed out in the front seat. I was actually a little happy about this because I was going to need help staying awake at the end of this trip not the beginning. I stopped for gas and she woke up. I couldn't believe she was bright again after only an hour and a half of sleep. We had been on one other vacation in 10yrs but JR drove so pits stops were few. This time it was just her and I and we stopped when ever we needed to. We got a lot of time to talk. I have been her step mom since she was four so we were not strangers but there was a new bond we were forming on this trip and I was happy to see it.

Four states, fourteen hours and thirty minutes later we can see the border. Mystic had been text messaging with Kyle for the last five hrs of the trip and they were both ecstatic. I was wiped out but knowing we were almost there was awesome. We saw the Canadian flag and pull up to the border check point... and that's where the nightmare began.

Bare in mind I have never entered a foreign country except through the airport and the last time I did, I was still a kid myself and mom did all the talking. We pull up to the guard shack and the lady asked us where we were from. We told her we are from Kansas and the first thing out of her mouth was, do they have stop signs in Kansas? I explained that they did and she asked if I knew what they looked like because apparently in the maze that leads to her bright and shiny disposition, i missed 4 of them. Well I guess it was a good thing that it was now 10:30pm so i didn't kill any would be border crossers.

I could tell she was about four hours late for a Midol but also realized it was not a good idea to continue to irritate an armed woman so I didn't vocalize this observation. Then the question came: What is the reason for your coming to Canada? Not thinking this would be something to hide I answered honestly "I'm bringing my daughter to meet her online boyfriend" I said with a smile. Unfortunately for me, one was not returned. When showing our ID she must have done the math in her head and started to go on about how she couldn't believe I was bringing my fifteen year old to a foreign country to meet someone. Yes, Canada is a foreign country, technically, but its connected to the United States and it is not like it's a third world country. I wasn't there to sell her into slavery nor did I stick her on a Greyhound bus and say have a good time. I was being responsible, supervising this meeting and all aspects of her social life. I could not believe I was now having to defend my parenting skills to someone who didn't know us. I was told to park the car and prepare for a search.

We were searched for almost an hour and they separated us to make sure our stories were the same. They went through the car and found places I didn't know I had. They went through our cell phones and questioned why her father was not with us. They wanted his phone number and questioned what we knew about Kyle and his family. They wanted phone numbers, addresses, even Kyles date of birth.

One of the border officers took Mystic's computer and told her to start it up. A new nightmare began. She inherited the computer from her mother. When it started up it had Cathy's name and picture. The officer asked Mystic who Cathy was and she told him "That's my mother", to where he went off saying "You said that woman was your mother". This child who was over the moon for the past almost 15hrs was now sad again having to explain how her mother died. The only good part to that was he felt like crap when she was done.

The officer who spoke to Mystic asked me if i had legal documents from her father saying i could take her out of the country. By this time I'm almost in tears. I do not have legal papers because in our house, we don't treat the kids any differently between his and mine. To us they are OURS and no need for ownership papers, they are not dogs.

The personal search begins and they get a female officer to search us. Thank God it wasn't the Nazi that greeted us at the gate but this woman was not very friendly either. Mystic was outraged she was being searched at all. She looked at me with shock and said "Oh I know that bitch did NOT just touch my ass!!" I told her to chill and it would be over faster but she was indignant at being treated like a criminal just because I was being honest at the border. I want to comfort her but they wouldn't let us near each other enough to do so. I mean really, how many fifteen year old, bleach blond American terrorists really try to invade Canada per year?

Mystic's cell phone was going off through this whole time. Kyle was trying to find out why we were taking so long at the border. She wasn't allowed to answer her phone and that was making her insane. When they finally realized we had no guns, drugs, rocket launchers or explosives and no intention of over throwing the government they sent us to the Immigration office. I asked why we needed to go there since we were only staying a week and i was just told to go.

It didn't take long to figure out why I needed to go in there. It was to have another complete set of strangers question my parenting skills. We had to go over all the information all over again with a new set of people with nothing better to do than screw with my evening. I had to explain I have seen this boy on web cam, I have spoken to him on the phone, emails and instant messages. She had known him for over a year and his parents were supervising as well, so its not like they were going to have alone time. I am not a bad mother, I will and do everything to protect my babies and did not like having a woman who admittedly didn't have children question my motives.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be this hard to get in to see our neighbors to the north. The truth shall set you free? No, the truth will get you detained, searched, questioned and humiliated. Oh how much easier this would have been if I just lied and said "We wanted to see your beautiful country before passports were required"

Friends are priceless at any age

Mystic and I played an online mafia game together, it was a kind of bonding thing between us as well as a way i could make sure to keep the freaks away. We had our computers side by side on the desk so I could see who she chatted with, make sure they knew she was only 14yrs old, and have my friends watching her if she was online and I was not. She made many friends on the site actually, sometimes to the point I would have to remind her that she still had a bedtime.

A few months before her mother passed away she met a boy online. Kyle was sweet, he played the game a few years as well so he was able to guide her along and have a partner in crime. Sometimes its nice to have someone help you that's around your own age and not ancient like your step mom. The game has a few functions that are unique to most online games. It has in game marriages. She was popular so she got many proposals but Kyle was the only one she wanted. I didn't have a problem with it, we are in Kansas and he is in Canada. A marriage made in heaven for me and he cant get her pregnant through a computer screen so he was already safer than any of her classmates. Considering that the high school she goes to has a built in daycare center and 4 of her junior high classmates were pregnant last year I was happy to see she didn't want any of the local boys.

When her mom passed away Kyle stuck by her. Most of her friends, real and virtual, had abandon her when she needed them most. Her father and I were there but your friends are who you lean on. Kyle would listen to her cry and talk out all her feelings. He would even stay up till the wee hours of the morning if she needed him. Being that he was 19 he was more mature than any of her "real life" friends but still a kid too. He had some experience with death before so he wanted to make sure she was OK.

Kyle was raised by wonderful parents. They taught him the importance of an education and hard work gets you were you want to be in life. He was my best back up when it came to making her go to school. With all the deaths she had to deal with coming so close together it was nearly impossible to get her up in the mornings to even go. The school was not very supportive or understanding of her needs so getting help from them was nearly impossible. They just wanted to kick her to the alternative school and that was only going to happen over my dead body. That school would teach her new skills... breaking and entering, how to roll a really tight joint, whats the best cream to shoplift to prevent pregnancy stretchmarks. Not really something I felt she needed to learn. After dealing with them, I had a new found respect homeschooling and the mothers that do it.

I finally found a little known program to keep her in her school but she would only have to go from 1:30pm - 4:30pm. It was perfect, it eliminated the early morning fight, she would work on her projects from a computer and no other kids in the class would taunt her about her mom and grandparents being dead. She liked it too because she could talk to Kyle before and after school. Kyle would also torture her by threatening not to talk to her that day if she didn't go to school. I loved him for that.

As the end of the school year rolled around she really wanted to meet Kyle. They talked on MSN as well as IRC through the game and web cam as much as they could. Even her father got on web cam to talk to the young man who had captured his little girls heart.

JR is old school. He doesn't believe in computer love and had too many bad experiences computers because when he was married to Cathy, she would meet guys online and eventually kicked him out to move one of her online boyfriends in. As you can imagine, this was his worst nightmare come true. He lost a wife to some stranger online and now he feared losing his baby girl. It took a while, but I finally convinced him it would be OK for them to meet as long as it was supervised. I would be there, we would stay in a motel, and he lives with his parents so its not like he was some creepy old dude with a bachelor pad waiting to prey on his daughter. He was just another teenager who was my biggest help when it came to trying to heal her emotional wounds. Besides, after all we had been through just this year, I needed to get out of town and away from the depressing view that was my life's routine. Canada was going to be pretty this time of year.