Well, Maybe I'm Not Completely Heartless
It probably hasn't gotten as much press as the VT massacre, but you may have heard the news about the big mall shootout in south KC this week.
That mall is my old hangout. I got a bi-weekly pedicure there for years. I gushed with joy when the Target opened and again when the Starbucks arrived. I took my kid there to see Santa.
Had I not met Ben and moved north of the river, I very likely would have been there when the freak show went down this weekend.
I still don't "feel" for the victims personally, but this certainly hits closer to home than any other random act of violence. I walked through that mall for one reason or another at least weekly for a period of several years. I considered it "mine," in a sense. And now I understand at any given time, some whackadoo with a gun (or three, as it were) could have just come in and taken me out for no fucking reason other than he was just having a shitty day.
That's fucking heavy.
I had a dream last night that I was there, at the south end of the mall near Starbucks where the shooting started (I think). Only there was a Sears there, and that's where we were (that I was in Sears should have tipped me off that I was dreaming, but it was a very realistic dream). Me, Bob, and several other shoppers. We were hiding, hoping the shooter wouldn't see us and think the store was empty. It didn't work. He came in and stuck the business end of his gun in the chest of the woman sitting on the floor next to me. She was holding a kid, too. The shooter said, "Is he ready?" And then I realized we were all about to be executed, so I picked up Bob and ran. I ran into the mall, into a jewelry store and started screaming. I handed Bob off to some random employee and said "take care of him." Then I hid with everyone else waiting for the police to come.
I woke up with that awful bad dream uneasy feeling. I still have it, it was that real. The sucky part is, it COULD HAVE BEEN real.
In other crazy muthafucka news, guess who showed up at t-ball practice last night? That's Right! DB! The same db who refused to let me "bully" him and Bob into something they didn't want to do! The same db who refused to have any part of "this t-ball!" The same db who said hell no, he wouldn't come to Bob's game that Saturday morning in June when team photos are being taken and that I was required to deliver him at 9:00 am, "no exceptions!" He was there, in all his stupid asshole glory. Video camera and all. He kept his distance from us until Bob took his turn at batting practice. Ben got our camera out and was shooting, and all of a sudden there's fucking db taking up the whole frame. Yep, he stood right in our field of vision--deliberately. Fucking prick. And he made sure to chat up every coach and parent he could.
Has he given me half the $45 registration fee? Fuck no. Has he gotten caught up on child support? Fuck no. Has he bothered to attend a court-ordered session with Bob's therapist since the order was signed almost a month ago? Fuck no.
Oh, but he can show up for t-ball practice with his fucking video camera and a big smile. You bet your ass.
And I'm still fat. I'm back on the exercise bandwagon, but I can't stop fucking eating. Maybe I should staple my mouth shut.
That mall is my old hangout. I got a bi-weekly pedicure there for years. I gushed with joy when the Target opened and again when the Starbucks arrived. I took my kid there to see Santa.
Had I not met Ben and moved north of the river, I very likely would have been there when the freak show went down this weekend.
I still don't "feel" for the victims personally, but this certainly hits closer to home than any other random act of violence. I walked through that mall for one reason or another at least weekly for a period of several years. I considered it "mine," in a sense. And now I understand at any given time, some whackadoo with a gun (or three, as it were) could have just come in and taken me out for no fucking reason other than he was just having a shitty day.
That's fucking heavy.
I had a dream last night that I was there, at the south end of the mall near Starbucks where the shooting started (I think). Only there was a Sears there, and that's where we were (that I was in Sears should have tipped me off that I was dreaming, but it was a very realistic dream). Me, Bob, and several other shoppers. We were hiding, hoping the shooter wouldn't see us and think the store was empty. It didn't work. He came in and stuck the business end of his gun in the chest of the woman sitting on the floor next to me. She was holding a kid, too. The shooter said, "Is he ready?" And then I realized we were all about to be executed, so I picked up Bob and ran. I ran into the mall, into a jewelry store and started screaming. I handed Bob off to some random employee and said "take care of him." Then I hid with everyone else waiting for the police to come.
I woke up with that awful bad dream uneasy feeling. I still have it, it was that real. The sucky part is, it COULD HAVE BEEN real.
In other crazy muthafucka news, guess who showed up at t-ball practice last night? That's Right! DB! The same db who refused to let me "bully" him and Bob into something they didn't want to do! The same db who refused to have any part of "this t-ball!" The same db who said hell no, he wouldn't come to Bob's game that Saturday morning in June when team photos are being taken and that I was required to deliver him at 9:00 am, "no exceptions!" He was there, in all his stupid asshole glory. Video camera and all. He kept his distance from us until Bob took his turn at batting practice. Ben got our camera out and was shooting, and all of a sudden there's fucking db taking up the whole frame. Yep, he stood right in our field of vision--deliberately. Fucking prick. And he made sure to chat up every coach and parent he could.
Has he given me half the $45 registration fee? Fuck no. Has he gotten caught up on child support? Fuck no. Has he bothered to attend a court-ordered session with Bob's therapist since the order was signed almost a month ago? Fuck no.
Oh, but he can show up for t-ball practice with his fucking video camera and a big smile. You bet your ass.
And I'm still fat. I'm back on the exercise bandwagon, but I can't stop fucking eating. Maybe I should staple my mouth shut.
posted by Mitzi Green at 12:44 PM
3 Comments:
I've always known you're not heartless. It shows in your writing, passionate writers are not heartless. Detached, numbed by all the previous violence which has occurred in the past 10 or so years, perhaps, heartless, no. And I'm willing to be you're not fat, you're just at the heavy end of the scale for you. That's where I am, anyway. My husband says I'm not fat, I know I'm not "fat", but I sure feel fat when that scale kicks the 142 at me. So three weeks ago I attempted to go "back on THE diet". I was good for two weeks, lost 9 pounds and then sabotaged myself. You try to take an 8 hour drive to Vermont and back with no salty munchy snacks .. I dare you ::grin::. So, I've successfully kept 5 to 7 of the 9 pounds off and have ALMOST accepted that my body WANTS to be 135-137 and I should just accept it. My husband loves me as I am and I'm sure Ben loves you as you are right now, too!
And of course DB was there at t-ball, chatting up the people who don't know his true colors. Of course Bob started faltering once he was allowed to see DB again. My mother, an elementary teacher for 36 years, said she could always tell when the children from two-homes (as she called it) has spent time with the "other" part of his/her family, because they were usually more high strung and it took a day or two for them to "get back into the swing" by the time they were to see the "other" side of his/her family again. I think it's because of the "usually" extreme diversity of things. As I have read in your posts, DB's "house rules" appear to be missing, while you've set up the boundaries that Bob most decidedly needs in order to fucntion. When my son, Zak, was younger, tables were turned. I was (and still am) non-custodial parent - long story, suffice it to say a Monster-man duped me, who happened to be an aging pedofile, yet I was fooled into seeing what Monster wanted me to see. So when I finally had my eyes open I headed for the hills, but the damage had been done. After I extricated myself from the mess my life had become, and sought divorce from my then husband, it was best for Zak to be in the most "stable" place he knew, and that was with his father. Now, his father (my ex) is still a fucking prick, resorted to calling me "egg doner only" during our divorce, among other nasties and refused to let my son live with me. I've only got 2.5 more years to go (Zak's 16 this year, holy shit!) and now he'd rather stay where he is, because of friends, etc. Now that I've tangented, let me get back on track - I prided myself on the fact that Zak's teachers could NEVER tell when Zak had spent time with me, I made sure there were no issues, I was the one who strived to make sure my son got what he needed. I took the back seat (still do) to idiot ex's wants/demands ... case in point idiot shut off his land line in order to save money (underemploys himself and has for the past 10 years) so now the only phone that exists is idiot ex's cell, which Zak now has to ask to use to call me, which idiot ex probably won't allow, because he made me get Zak a calling card to call me because we're 4 hours away from each other so it's a long distance call. Back to you, if DB really truly cared for Bob, he TOO would be doing all he could to ensure Bob's transitions from him to you and you to him were unnoticeable. Instead, he cranks things up wherever he can. Pushing buttons (as at t-ball), sending vile emails (I am sure you've only touched on how mean worded they are), refusing to attend psych sessions which would totally benefit the boy.
Eventually, DB's true colors will shine at "this t-ball" and others will see him for what he is. My grandmother always told me to be the "bigger one" and to "do the right thing by someone else", and it's hard, but in the end for you, you'll know you did what needed to be done for Bob and I hope, I pray you'll allow yourself to feel good about you. I'm still working on that one, by the way.
Sorry for the long post, but I needed to give you a hug.
Marcia
I too was at that mall every week for a couple years. Even before Target moved in I was there for a movie or Dillards or New York Co. - I shopped way too much :-)
This city (and world) is going crazy!
Lucky like you I moved to a much better place.
As for the idiot (hope it's ok to call him that) I have one too so I totally know how you feel. Although I THANK GOD don't have to deal with mine as much since he's a thousand miles away and my son is old enough now that I don't have to be a go between too often. I feel for ya girl! You're a strong women to deal with so much shit and Bob will be much better for it!
What does DB stand for Dumb butt? lol
marcia--thank you.
clw--db stands for DoucheBag. :)
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