Normal

Yes there is a custody battle looming large on the horizon.  It makes me sick. I could list chapter and verse about why the girls should stay with me.  I could write War and Peace about my relationship with Slug.  I could write The Godfather about Slug and his history.  I won’t.  Not here.  Because The Enemy reads this and The Enemy doesn’t need anything to report back.

But this isn’t about the custody battle.  This is about the comments that have been left here for me, about me.  While I appreciate the support and encouragement and the offer to round up some of the nastiest mud this side of the Mississippi (and that’s some nasty shit), I feel as if I am somehow deceiving you.

See, to be honest, the girls have not had a normal life.  Ever.  Our life with their father was traumatic for all of us. Their life since then has not been normal either.  Uncertainty, fear, upheaval, changes; it’s been a mess.  I am not proud, and I am not the only reason their life has been this way.

But I’m trying to be the reason it’s changing and becoming normal.  It’s been a battle, and apparently it will continue to be a battle.  See time in jail doesn’t make you the most eligible person for Parent of the Year.  It’s a pretty huge strike against you. There was an eviction in January too that is another strike against me.  The truth of the matter is simple.  On paper, I don’t look like a good parent.  On paper I wouldn’t grant me custody.  In real life, I’m a great mom who finally gets it. But really, is it going to be enough?

This summer while I had some time off (between jobs) I got to spend some time, a lot of time with the girls.  Once I found a job, and they started school, I still managed to be home until they got on the bus and shortly after they got home.  I even managed to have one day off a week.  It was then that I began to get a clue.  It mattered to them that I was there.  Their faces lit up when they saw me standing on the porch waiting for them to get home.

Then I realized it mattered to me too.  Their faces weren’t the only ones lighting up.  My heart beat a little faster, my step had more spring, and I found myself watching the clock on those days, to be sure to be waiting on the porch for them to come home.

The girls are on the honor roll at school, bring home A’s and B’s.  They both have perfect attendance; they both have been student of the week or month.  They are thriving here.  They have friends, real friends.  Tate has been to her first party, and is dying to attend her first dance. They are well known and well liked at school.  Everyone knows them, and everyone clamors to be around them. I have a hard time walking with them because of the thongs of kids swarming around them.  They are happy here.  They love it here.

They are normal.

They know that when they go to bed that night they will wake up in that bed the next morning. They know that when they get home, I’m not far behind them.  They know that on payday we will go out to eat.  And they know that if they don’t understand homework, I will sit with them and work it out together. They know that there will be no fights, no drama, or at least nothing more than the normal sisterhood squabble. They laugh, they play.  Their bedroom walls are covered with posters of The Jo Bros and Miley Cyrus, just like any other preteen in America.

For the first time in their entire life, they are normal, and happy and safe.  And it does my heart good to see them finally having the life kids should have.

I can create the persona I want to project here on my blog. I can be the girl who has her shit together.  I can be a warm loving witty strong courageous woman trying to raise two daughters in the face of adversity and despite their father’s desire to prevent me from doing just that.  But the truth is, I don’t always have my shit together.  On paper and according to Slug’s cunt of a lawyer, I am an unfit unworthy mother who doesn’t deserve her children.  As if he’s really a better parent.  Of course, he can be charming and loving and caring and concerned.  For about 6 months.

But I’m not going to wage the battle here.  I’ll find the grace to keep my head up, and I’ll stock pile the mud to sling, should the need arise.  Just know that the person behind the blog isn’t all that the person on the web wishes she was.  I will admit to my faults and my shortcomings.

After all, I am normal too.