Some questions are simply avoidable for only so long….and it’s been so long at our house

It was a local story that shocked the nation.  A local story that hit a little too close to home; and lead to one of the most uncomfortable, awkward and heart breaking mornings of my life.

When the story first broke, I watched & listened in horror.  My stomach turned, it hurt to breathe and I felt my face get warm.  I looked over to see the PIT also watching in horror, a slightly more confused horror but horror none the less.  “Change it!” I said in a much more bitchy tone than intended “Where is the gawdamn remote?!” I continued to bitch as I began throwing shit off the couch in a lame effort to locate the remote. Huffing, puffing and slamming shit around…what the hell am I so pissed off about?! It’s not like “Intervention” was on again

I had to step back for a moment and gather my shit, which I had clearly just lost.

I get worked up watching the news all the time, it’s not a new occurrence.  The world blows my mind and I’m very loud about my frustrations but this was more than frustration.  This was full on anger with a side of fear that felt far too familiar in the depths of my soul.

A “father” whom the system insisted be involved in the lives of “his” children….murders them.

He greets the social worker with a smile, takes the boys inside, closes the door and attacks them with an axe before dousing the house in accelerant and blowing the house, the 2 innocent wounded boys and himself to smithereens while the social worker called for help to no avail.

Those 2 boys should have never been exposed to the man who donated the DNA it took to create them. There IS a difference in a sperm donor and a father like it or not.  It boils my blood that the system fails to see that. There are instances when kids are better off without a parent and in this case, the kids would still be alive rather than buried in a little coffin together.

When a person is a dangerous, making dangerous choices with dangerous consequences then the courts should really see them for what they are….a threat. Not a parent.

The story obviously brought up some feelings of anger and frustration…I fought the same system and I fought my ass off to keep the meth addicted he whore I divorced away from me and my child because I knew we would fight each other, literally, to death. And although I had a whole lot of anger and rage to fight with, I was no match for a gang banger on meth. Hell, I was no match for a chess playing meth addict. Meth addicts are hard to stop…they just keep getting back up! He would have killed me or done something to the baby to get to me, without a doubt. And yet I had to FIGHT to protect my daughter because “kids need fathers”. I agree, kids DO need fathers. Meth addicts are NOT fathers. They’re barely fucking human after using the shit long enough!

Random side rant:  I personally think that part of the system is complete and total bullshit. I also think it’s complete and total bullshit when women rip their kids away from a perfectly good, loving and no harm to the kid kind of father just because he left her for a young woman. Kids are not weapons. Your stilettos could be, but kids, never. Spite is not a good motive people, fucking DUH. Don’t encourage an already flawed system with spiteful drama. Let’s all grow up. We’re PARENTS.

The PIT is a perceptive little person and she picked up on the fact that the story made my skin crawl….she was curious as to why, exactly.

I mean, she knows me, I love anything Dexter,

I want to go back to school to do autopsies, I love horror movies with blood and guts and chain saws….

I love watching Untold stories of the ER or “Too Young to Kill-Child killers”…..I’m a sick chick in that way I guess but whatever.

To the PIT, it just didn’t make sense that I was so clearly disturbed by this story even though it’s a disturbing story.  She picked up on that and I’m sure it ate at her for the next 2 days because that’s how long she waited before she just flat-out asked me….at 7:50 am….as we’re getting ready to rush out the door to another day in our life…..

“So, is that why my dad can never pick me up from school or the Club or anything?”

A bit sideswiped by the question (and I’m not fully awake until at least 1pm) I stuttered..”Uh. Um. Uh, what? What do you mean?”

“That guy on the news, the one that killed his kids…is my dad like that dad? Is that why I can’t see him” she said and I could see her lip quiver and the tears well up in her big brown eyes the way they always do when she mentions the D word and I felt the air being sucked out of my lungs as I felt light-headed.

This was it. This was really happening. The day I’ve been dreading.

I’ve never bad mouthed my ex in front of the PIT, never went into the details of destruction that had become my life at one point, I’ve always been able to slide out of this conversation with minimal detail but it was clear, that was changing and it was time to answer the girls questions.

And she had some knock me on my fucking ass questions like “Was my dad on drugs?”, “Did he try to hurt you? Were you afraid mama?”, “Will he ever get better?”

Up until that very moment, I’ve avoided this conversation for many reasons….mostly because when it comes to explaining shit, I can be AM incredibly blunt.  However, this was not the time to be blunt….I needed to be careful when approaching this subject and I knew it. Quite frankly I was scared out of my mind

It was an emotional talk for both of us…I was graciously honest, patient and answered what seemed to be endless questions but we made it through….for now…and I finally have come to accept what is clearly a FACT…..

She is always going to have questions about her “father”

I’m never going to answer them all because it’s just not humanly possible. Kids are curious creatures anyway…..add in the “intrigue” of a missing parent and the questions will never run out…the best I can do is take it one question at a time, be thankful she’s asking ME and not Google, and love the shit outta her in between