The kids are in the bedroom (which here in Little House means 5 feet behind my kitchen table) half arguing half playing, and I’ve got my ear cocked (forevermore) for the tipping point when good-natured ribbing turns to malicious needling. Malicious needling is the fuel for flashpoint, when in mere seconds there is pummeling, wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Tomorrow I have a giant paper due for my comparative literature class. That means not much sleep tonight, and I’m already stretched too thin. You might not be able to be too rich, but whoever said you can’t be too think was never a single mother. (Yeah, yeah, I know what they meant.) Instead of writing my paper today, as I had planned and prepped, I was scraping the barrel and driving to the water and electric company with my bill, which a nice man knocked on my door to kindly tell me would be turned off tomorrow. Nothing like living on the edge, babies.
Child support would sure help out right about now. Did you know that visitation is not tied to support? It’s not. You can be a total deadbeat, not contribute a dime to the support of said children, leaving their responsible parent to juggle not only three (beloved and protected) children, but full time school and bill collectors all by herself- and yet still gain visitation rights? It’s true.
For the first time in ten months, X was allowed visitation this last weekend. I’m still trying to get everyone back to level- mostly Bean. We’ve had some biting and emotional acting out. Which is super fun- after X spends his (supervised, by order of the court) three hours with them, I then spend three days cleaning up the emotional wreckage left behind. Again.
Do you think my professor would buy this story? Or should I lie and say the dog ate my homework?