First Heart Break

You know in life you always have that first heart break.  It never crossed my mind that Thing Two would experience it from the one man who should carry her heart like a delicate piece of china. Big Cheese broke her heart this weekend and I want to tear his apart for making her feel like that. 

I am typing this with bags and dark circles under my eyes. My heart breaks for my baby girl.  Saturday was her big day.  She got her first ever trophy that day. Big Cheese, no where in sight.  Las Vegas to be precise on his location.  I had a huge discussion with him about this decision. Big Cheese had known about this big day since January when the soccer schedules were given.  I would have seen it as a mere over sight had it not been for the fact that he never backed out of going. 

To top it off, it was his weekend with the Things.  He actually called me to cover for him so that he could go and he would take the next two weekends to be with the children.  I just couldn't believe he was going to miss her big day.  When I reminded him of the day and that I would cover if he still wanted to go, he said "Thanks".  I felt the blood heat up under my skin.  In my head "Thanks" was a brush off of what this would do to my little dolls heart.  I just answered "No need to Thank me, you will need to explain to the Things why you were not there".  Of course I got no answer.

Lately we haven't been seeing eye to eye on things, and this just exacerbated those feelings. He had already let our children witness their father get into my face and yell and call me names in public.  Their little hearts were suffering and all I wanted was some kind of normal for them.  We argued once more before he left.  Big Cheese thought I was just upset because he was going to Las Vegas.  This wasn't like the times before, I wasn't concerned about our family, this time it was our children.   It was a big day, a moment that is fleeting.  It will never be her first trophy ever again.  Las Vegas will always be there, but this moment is gone.  Thing Two now holds the memory of her father being absent from that moment.

You must think by now "Well she is three, she can't possibly remember anything".  All day on Saturday we were busy, happy, or so I thought.  I saw a glimpse of her searching the crowd when she got the trophy, a slight sad look.  I just left it alone, hoping it was just me that saw that look.  Sunday morning as we ate breakfast with no one but her and I eating at the table she uttered the phrase I long feared would come sooner or later, "Mommy, Daddy wasn't at my banquet.  It made me sad.  Zoe had her daddy there".  Her face was sullen and her eyes watered and filled with salty tears that I kissed away for her.  It's all I could do.  I couldn't discount those feelings.  Her little heart was broken. 

Times like these I wish he could see what he does by some of his actions.  The same actions that made me walk away from him. Only this time it was not a 39 year old woman who's heart he broke, it was a three year old sweet vivacious little girl who's heart he broke. 

I was so sad and mad.  Mad that he had the ability to chose his own interest over his children.  How does one make things better?  I don't know, but I am going to try my best to be there and to help both my children heal from all this.  I just hope the happy feelings out weigh those that reside in her heart at this moment.

Questions to my daddy…

Me age 5…
“Daddy why do Giraffe’s have spots?”

Dad:
“I don’t know baby, we should find out”

• The next week he ordered a National Geographic card set about animals.

Me age 8…
“Daddy, why can’t I do better in my handwriting? I got a D in class for that ”

Dad:
“You just need to practice. You will get better”

• That month he ordered a special handwriting practice book from Mexico and he had me do it everyday after homework.

Me age 10…
“Daddy, why am I so dark? Why can’t I be like Barbie?”

Dad:
“Because you are Mexican and you have Indian blood that runs through your veins”

• Within the span of a year he should be pictures of my maternal grandmother, took me to the library to learn of the history of Mexican people and South American Incas.

Me age 11…
“Daddy, do babies really come from storks? Do they give them to you at the hospital”

Dad:
“No, but we can talk about it”

• We had “the talk” and he had me watch “The miracle of life” on PBS. Which I am sure is the reason why I was so grossed out and swore off sex until I was ready to go through child birth.

Me age 12:
“Why did you have to go Daddy?”

Dad...





He left me all too soon. I had many more questions. I am sure he had more answers for me. He was that kind of dad. If he didn’t know the answer he found it for me. He gave me the gift of researching my questions, and not giving them to me immediately. He facilitated my learning, even if sometimes there were some things that were embarrassing. For all that you answered Daddy, THANK YOU. Happy Father’s day, I still miss you.

Here is a story for you to retell... I have a heart that bleeds

I have spilled my feelings of rage, anger, sadness, happiness and loneliness all over pages and pages of blogs, journals, and posts on my facebook page, just to have them come back to me as a dagger. My own words twisted and retorted as vicious gossip that is told to Big Cheese.  Big Cheese is not the type to figure out that some people don't have your best interest at heart.  They use these words to spin drama, to make a mountain out of a mole hill.  They do this to stir feelings of chaos for their own enjoyment. 

Now, I'm sure that maybe some of the things that get reported back to Big Cheese of the things are innocently mentioned.  I am not a complete idiot about things like this happening.  I am after all a fairly reasonably person.  Big Cheese is known for making me feel like everything is my fault, that I decided to have a split family.  Despite my many attempts at reconnecting my whole fantasy of a traditional family, despite the numerous times I have set aside my pride, the very fiber of who I am to do this.  So don't think I know that this may be the case.  Do me a favor, when you retell the story show the whole scenario.

Have I felt lonely and sad, yes, yes I have.  I want a big shoulder to cry on to tell me that I am doing ok as a mom, as a woman as a freakin' human being. I want to have a friend in the person I am with.  Big Cheese, I know tries, but there is a huge disconnect in our relationship.  He has been holding on to things that happened when we were dating.  Things that I am not proud of doing. I have apologized, I have tried to move to the present.  I have even disregarded his mistakes during my pregnancy.  He can't let go, he is still angry.  It may not be outwardly apparent, but he lets it all out when we argue.  I can't keep living in the past, my children deserve two happy parents to raise them. 

Like I said I take responsibility for my part in the failure of this relationship, I'm no angel.  I have however vowed to be true to my children.  I have not introduced to anyone I may start dating, because simply put there is no one.  I respect myself to know that this is not a good time for me to even consider that.  Do I desire that attention? Sure, who wouldn't.   I am first and foremost a mother of two young children who deserve my attention right now.  Maybe down the road I can revisit that place as the woman I want to be.  I want to be "that" person for someone and they can be that for me, for now I am ok with just me and the kids. Big Cheese can't meet me half way and talk to me like an adult.  He resorts to insults and raising of his voice.  I will not let him bring me down and make me feel like this is all of my fault. Just because I told him to leave, does not give him the right to blame me for all of it and not take responsibility for his part.

I leave my future in this and any other relationship in God's hands.  I can't do anything else.  I often feel defeated in that department.  Still I pick myself up and dust off and move forward.  Why?  Well here is the simple answer:

So if you want to retell false truths remember this, your words and gossip affects more than just me.  It's like throwing a pebble into a pond, the ripples get bigger and you hurt more than one person with greater intensity.  If that makes you sleep better at night, so be it.  Just do me a favor, sign up to my RSS feed so you can get all the information correct and show him what you read instead of interpretting it on your own. 

Thanks a lot! May you find peace of heart.
 

Men of Valor

Friday, June 11, 2010.  My son Thing One turns 34 months old.  I was a little sad during the week because of the hardship I was going with the car problems I was having and the trouble I was having getting help getting my kids situated while I found a way to and from work, etc.  I was really missing my dad at that point.  The man who was always there for me. The man I hope that Thing One will grow up to be.

 

That morning on the drive to work I heard the news of a CHP (California Highway Patrol) officer who had been killed while on duty.  I stopped and said a prayer for the family and was very reflective on the times my dad would go to work and Mami would say a prayer.  My father, Sarge, worked as a deputy for the Los Angeles Sheriff department.  Whenever I hear that an officer has gone down, I pray.  These men give there all to keep the rest of us safe. 

 

Later that morning one of my friends on Facebook contacted me and told me that the officer who had died was my other friend's younger brother.  The tears rolled down and I prayed even more. I felt the pain of my friend, losing her beloved brother.  I felt the pain of her mother, losing her son.  I felt the pain of his wife, losing her companion.  I felt the loss of his children, growing up without their father.

 

The men behind those badges have families, have loved ones, have friends.  They put it all on the line so you and I can remain safe. Then I was reminded of all the chivalrous men who do not wear a badge, but are heroes in their own way.  These men are those who pick up the pieces after an absent father, whether that be voluntary or involuntary.  Those men who will take children in as their own and shield them from harm and life's bumps in the road.  They can be step fathers who take in a whole family and make them their own.  They are brother's, friends, neighbors who in a moment's crisis are there.

On this Father's day I grieve for the father I lost to cancer and for those two children who's very courageous father not only protected them but protected the highways so that many other father's could get home safely to their children.  I also honor on those of you who take the place of a lost father. I honor those father's who find it necessary to keep and protect a family and stay married for long periods of time and take care of the mother of your children.  You are truly men of valor.

Dad, I truly miss you everyday.  In the 12 years you gave me as a father, you were exceptional and taught me life's lessons in a short period I was under your wing.  Everything you did for me served as an example to what I wanted to be like as a parent and values I instill in my little one's everyday. 

Thing One, you have big shoes to fill.