One more thing.

No longer will I allow you to control my feelings. I can't blame you for them, because I choose to feel them.

But know this:

I will do whatever it takes to make sure my boy has the best life possible - that he is well-fed, well-educated,  as happy as he can be, and safe.

Should you think that you call the shots as far as he is concerned, you are fucking mistaken. I will go Mama Bear and have your dysfunctional ass in court so fast your head will spin.

You want to talk child support? How have you financially supported him in the last two months? Oh, that's right! YOU HAVEN'T. You haven't given him a dime, and we're still married!

You are a fucking JOKE. Or maybe I'm the joke for marrying you and falling into your bullshit. But if I hadn't made that stupid mistake, I wouldn't have the one thing that I can't live without. Not YOU, motherfucker - my amazing boy.

So thank you. Thank you for finally showing your true self. Autistic or not, our son will NEVER live by your piss poor example of what a man is. And you can thank ME for that.

FFS.

Stop pretending to care.

Stop taking every opportunity possible to piss me off.

I'd like to go through 24 hours without hearing from you in some fashion.

I'd disconnect my phones, but you'd send a letter or telegram or fucking smoke signals.

Just leave me alone.

Putting a price tag on your child is disgusting.

Child support. How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.

Well, none, because it's necessary.

Then why am I sitting here with a tear-stained face hating life? Because someone doesn't think we need to let the court decide child support. "It will just be easier if we come to a decision." Yeah, easier for YOU. And you almost had me talked into it. Almost.

How do you determine what is fair? I am the most non-confrontational person alive. He thinks $500/month is fair to take care of Quinn. I noted that $500 won't even cover my car payment - which is OUR car payment, dick - and he says "It's not about paying your car note." No shit? REAAAAAAAAAALLY?

If I didn't need his goddamned money to live, I wouldn't ask for a fucking dime.

And (oh, this is rich), he thinks he's going to come here in March and take Quinn for a week. HAHAHAHAHAA... fuck you, motherfucker. In your DREAMS will I let you take my son from me. And by the way, if you're wanting a pat on the back for finally wanting to be his father, well fuck you again.

What happens if Quinn's behaviors get to the point where I have to give up my job? Is your $500 going to keep a roof over his head and food in his belly and clothes on his back? While you're playing your fucking xbox and driving around in your convertible with your flavor of the week? FUCK YOU.

My God! What have I done that karma is tromping all over my ass!? And really, you can NEVER say you didn't leave Quinn. YOU DID. YOU LEFT HIM WHEN YOU LEFT ME. DON'T YOU DARE MAKE YOURSELF LOOK LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING HERO DAD OF THE YEAR YOU SON OF A BITCH.

Blargh.

There's just some days where I have so much inside I want to say and no real way to say it. Today is one of those days.

So I'm going to finish this glass of wine, read a little, and hope sleep doesn't allude me like usual.

Oh, also? I'm going to pray like mad that the snow drifts like a motherfucker and I don't have to go to work tomorrow.

I have no catchy or witty title for this post.

Today is my first Saturday in the house. Quinn is minding his own business, watching Meet The Robinsons and pulling all of the wipes out of the box, which I'm conveniently ignoring because they're just wipes, right? It's really quiet here. Fortunately, it's the good kind of quiet. A comfortable silence. Not a "OMG I NEED TO TURN ON MUSIC OR SING OR LISTEN TO THE NEWS BECAUSE I CAN'T HANDLE IT!" silence.

Made a couple pancakes, drinking some coffee, making a list of things I need to do that I will purposefully not do today. The house is 90% clean, this week sucked a caveman's taint, and I think I've earned the right to stay in my pajamas and just revel in the fact that this is my life, and I could really learn to like this.

Of course, that's right now. I think if I only move enough to type, read, and breathe, I won't disturb this space-time continuum that's really working for me. But wait, if I step on a butterfly, would my bathroom instantly become sparkling clean?

*adds butterfly hunting to to-do list*

Good thing I've already peed.

...Or not.

Dammit! Today sucked too! I swear, the world is overrun with catty bitches, and morons, and douchebags, and ugh. Anyway. This isn't even relevant to anything except I really need to get out of this funk.

I'm tired of feeling empty.

The Sun'll Come Out...Tomorrow!

It had goddamned better.