Quarter to midnight Saturday night, I received a text from Lillie. "I can't sleep because the room I am in is so hot I am basically melting." That was the first of many texts leading up to their father telling me that "Of course she can't sleep and is hot. The light's on and she's wrapped up in a comforter. And maybe they should try coming downstairs and talking to me instead of running to you when they're here." His message came an hour later, after many messages between me, Lillie and Logan with me begging them to please talk to their father and them begging me to tell him as they didn't want him to get angry with them. To any other adult human, these would have been red flags. They would have set off warning sensors in the brain and told them to call, to hear their voices. Hear HIS voice. My understanding based off the first 10 minutes after they came home was that he barrelled up the stairs and yelled at them for reaching out to me. Yelled at her for laying with the lights on wrapped up in a comforter cocoon. Yelling at Logan because he drug me into it and they should have come to him. I get it, I get the frustration on his end because the kids don't feel comfortable enough or trust him enough to come at them in an even level headed manner; that they don't feel they are welcome or at home in his home. I get that I am the parent to them. THE parent.
After a fitful night of sleep I woke up and plowed through the remainder of cleaning I needed to do for the day. By 3 pm I was exhausted. I sent him a text asking if they'd be fed and what time they were going to be home and his response was "No and by 5." I figured I could get at least an hour nap in before the babies came home to me. I crawled into bed and he text asking if I was home yet. Worried something was wrong, I told him yes. I still don't understand why neither he nor the kids realize I no longer work on Sundays. Regardless, his weekends with him aren't supposed to end till 5 or later on Sundays. He said he was bringing them home. So I tossed on something clean, refilled my coffee and took my place on the front porch. Something didn't sit right so as I normally do when my gut tells me something terrible is about to happen, I turned on the "voice recorder" app and sat. And waited... I could hear him coming before he even crested the hill onto my street. Music blaring, he was flying through the neighborhood. He came to a screeching halt in the driveway and I heard doors slamming, but their voices were silent. Nobody spoke. I hit record. First Logan sulked into the house, then Lillie came down the sidewalk. "Are you ok? Why are you crying??" She was hyperventilating trying to juggle all of her things and open the door at the same time. I figured she must have gone into another panic attack while with her father. "Wait, where's Lou??" At that time I looked up and their father was all but shoving Lou down the sidewalk, turning to stomp off halfway to me, Lou was on his tiptoes with all of his belongings clutched tightly to his chest. I gave him sweet love and sent him inside while Lillie wailed away inside. Logan came out and huffed stating that it had been the worst weekend ever. That his dad had been rude and blamed his "roller coaster of emotions" on the impending lunar eclipse/full moon. "He believes all of these mythical lies, he's a wizard, he can't control his anger because of the moon." Meanwhile Lillie is breathing fast between sobs about how her daddy was driving so fast, the music was too loud, she was scared because he told them to take all of their things because he wasn't coming back... what would happen if he left his wife? Would she still be able to visit her stepmom? What would happen to her daddy if he left, will she ever see him again??
These are things no child should ever have to question. These are words and feelings that are NOT NORMAL. Your child should never come back into your custody because they "made daddy mad" or they don't know if they'll ever see him again. Bad enough that it will be a month before they go back to him. Even worse that the last weekend they saw him he was in a terrible mood and took it out on him and their step siblings. That all three of his children were yelled at, even sweet Lou. That they don't understand his anger and attitude, that he pushes the blame for his actions on a lunar event.
Once again, I'm having to dig deep to perform damage control on these babies. Lou was so overstimulated last night that he burst into hysterics in the middle, THE MIDDLE, of a meltdown right before bed last night. He woke up with petechia around his eye where the little blood vessels burst on his soft baby cheeks and eyelids. In the midst of the worst of it, while in hysterics, he began slapping and hitting the right side of his face. Logan ran upstairs to assist me and while he's the best big brother any mama could ask for, he doesn't understand Lou's body language and condition enough to understand that we can't stop it. We can only make sure he's safe and doesn't hurt himself any worse than he already has. Lo reached out and grabbed Lou's hand mid swing and ended up getting shoved. Lou couldn't handle the restraint and it only upset him worse. By the time I got Lou to bed, he had little red hand print welts on his face.
This is what I deal with, this is what comes home to me every two weeks. He can brush it off and huff at me, but it is exactly damage control every. single. time. Logan snuggled into me on the couch while we were comforting Lillie and praying with her.
"Mama, no matter what house he is in, that's where the chaos is."
After a fitful night of sleep I woke up and plowed through the remainder of cleaning I needed to do for the day. By 3 pm I was exhausted. I sent him a text asking if they'd be fed and what time they were going to be home and his response was "No and by 5." I figured I could get at least an hour nap in before the babies came home to me. I crawled into bed and he text asking if I was home yet. Worried something was wrong, I told him yes. I still don't understand why neither he nor the kids realize I no longer work on Sundays. Regardless, his weekends with him aren't supposed to end till 5 or later on Sundays. He said he was bringing them home. So I tossed on something clean, refilled my coffee and took my place on the front porch. Something didn't sit right so as I normally do when my gut tells me something terrible is about to happen, I turned on the "voice recorder" app and sat. And waited... I could hear him coming before he even crested the hill onto my street. Music blaring, he was flying through the neighborhood. He came to a screeching halt in the driveway and I heard doors slamming, but their voices were silent. Nobody spoke. I hit record. First Logan sulked into the house, then Lillie came down the sidewalk. "Are you ok? Why are you crying??" She was hyperventilating trying to juggle all of her things and open the door at the same time. I figured she must have gone into another panic attack while with her father. "Wait, where's Lou??" At that time I looked up and their father was all but shoving Lou down the sidewalk, turning to stomp off halfway to me, Lou was on his tiptoes with all of his belongings clutched tightly to his chest. I gave him sweet love and sent him inside while Lillie wailed away inside. Logan came out and huffed stating that it had been the worst weekend ever. That his dad had been rude and blamed his "roller coaster of emotions" on the impending lunar eclipse/full moon. "He believes all of these mythical lies, he's a wizard, he can't control his anger because of the moon." Meanwhile Lillie is breathing fast between sobs about how her daddy was driving so fast, the music was too loud, she was scared because he told them to take all of their things because he wasn't coming back... what would happen if he left his wife? Would she still be able to visit her stepmom? What would happen to her daddy if he left, will she ever see him again??
These are things no child should ever have to question. These are words and feelings that are NOT NORMAL. Your child should never come back into your custody because they "made daddy mad" or they don't know if they'll ever see him again. Bad enough that it will be a month before they go back to him. Even worse that the last weekend they saw him he was in a terrible mood and took it out on him and their step siblings. That all three of his children were yelled at, even sweet Lou. That they don't understand his anger and attitude, that he pushes the blame for his actions on a lunar event.
Once again, I'm having to dig deep to perform damage control on these babies. Lou was so overstimulated last night that he burst into hysterics in the middle, THE MIDDLE, of a meltdown right before bed last night. He woke up with petechia around his eye where the little blood vessels burst on his soft baby cheeks and eyelids. In the midst of the worst of it, while in hysterics, he began slapping and hitting the right side of his face. Logan ran upstairs to assist me and while he's the best big brother any mama could ask for, he doesn't understand Lou's body language and condition enough to understand that we can't stop it. We can only make sure he's safe and doesn't hurt himself any worse than he already has. Lo reached out and grabbed Lou's hand mid swing and ended up getting shoved. Lou couldn't handle the restraint and it only upset him worse. By the time I got Lou to bed, he had little red hand print welts on his face.
This is what I deal with, this is what comes home to me every two weeks. He can brush it off and huff at me, but it is exactly damage control every. single. time. Logan snuggled into me on the couch while we were comforting Lillie and praying with her.
"Mama, no matter what house he is in, that's where the chaos is."
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