statistical nightmare

i am a very shallow person.

i care a great deal what people think of me and what labels people attach not only to me, but my kids, our family, our life.

i spend an insane amount of time and money crafting what i want to be perceived as. i work really hard to not look sloppy or lazy when i go to work, the store, sports practices, parent teacher meetings. i work hard to have a nice house- mostly clean, nice furniture, decorated in my quirky personal taste but still pleasant for anyone who visits. i work hard to have a nice life.

and my kids.

good. heavens. there is no limit to what i would do for my kids. i have gone toe to toe with teachers, principals, coaches making sure my kids aren't labeled or treated differently. i've battled my own kids to make sure they know how to behave, how to be polite. i've all but drug them into the shower to make sure they aren't the smelly kid in class. i put extra effort into snack days to make sure we have the "good" snacks. i made sure they had nice clothes (not name brand, but nice, none the less). i've made sure they were able to participate in sports, have friends over. i've sat through so. many. conferences and open houses and band concerts. i've volunteered in the classroom and on field trips. i want my kids to be smart and successful and decent contributing members of society.

i feel like i have, and will forever be battling the stigma and statistics of being a teen mom. i made it a point to go to college with a baby on my hip because he deserved a mom that could provide a good life. i fought so hard to get off public assistance (daycare and food stamps) after college and again after my divorce (housing assistance and food stamps (again)). i fought to leave an abusive marriage because i didn't want that life or example for my kids. i have worked so hard to not be the failure and drain on society that is expected from someone who "had a baby while still a baby."

and yet here i am, 17 years into it, becoming a grim statistic.and it's killing me on so many different levels.

last monday my son was arrested.

my 17 year old kid spent a night in juvy for assaulting his dad. he will appear before a judge in a few weeks and there is the possibility that they will charge him with assault 2 as an adult due to his age (he would probably be 18 by the time it went to a jury) and the severity of the assault. that's a felony.

that's his adult life on the line. that's every college application, every job application. that's strike one on the three strike law.

he's a junior in high school, opting into running start for now. he still has a full year left before he graduates. what would it look like to have a felony before you graduate? how would it impact his education? he is SMART. incredibly smart. he could have any career he wants. but not with a felony on his record.

he is SO ANGRY and mean. he has been for years. that's why he doesn't live with me any more. he has refused help, counseling, reason. he has wallowed in his anger for years letting it get stronger and increasingly mean and violent. he brags about threatening and intimidating kids at school. he thinks vandalism is funny. he took a few swings at me in the past, and now not only took a swing at but connected with his dad resulting in serious injury.

everything i've worked so hard for feels like it's slipping away. and it sounds selfish and petty, but I DON'T WANT TO BE THE TEEN MOM OF A FELON. i don't want us to become another statistic: a single mom with a kid that's "in the system." i don't want to be a failure. i don't want him to be a failure.

i don't know how to help him. he's finally agreed to counseling. whether to avoid jail or to actually get help remains to be seen. i hope, with everything i have, it's to get help and resolve his anger and remove the violence and urge to settle things with his fists. he HAS to learn that he can't act this way. he can't start swinging in a bar. he can't start swinging at a boss. he REALLY can NEVER start swinging at a girlfriend or spouse.

and here's where it gets SUPER shallow and petty:

i don't want to feel like trash but that's all i feel like right now. i feel like i should be living in stained, faded, holey "pink" sweats, a smoke saturated worn out oversized hoodie, stained and worn out uggs (knock off brand of course), living in a trailer park in a trailer that has buckets strategically placed on rainy days, where keeping the lights on or groceries in the cupboard is an either or, not a both. i should be driving a car that you have to start with a screwdriver, have a snot nosed baby stuck in a playpen crying all day long while i finish smoking pack 22 of american spirits while i watch soap operas and yell at husband number 17  to quit scratching his belly button and get a damn job already. AND I KNOW THAT'S SUPER JUDGMENTAL AND STEREOTYPICAL AND MEAN.

i had a date scheduled for last monday before all this happened. i got the call monday night as i was getting ready and decided that since there was nothing i could do across the state, i may as well go ahead with the date. i was on the phone with my brother discussing appearances and charges and what all the legal jibberish means as i sat in the mcdonalds parking lot waiting to go in and meet the poor date guy. i probably should have cancelled, but i didn't want to be a flake. so in i went, and tried to take a quick moment to pull myself together. didn't work so well. i ended up telling poor date guy: "...give me just a second, trying to get in the right head space, didn't want to cancel on you, but just found out my son has been arrested."

GREAT START TO A DATE.

awesome. not only a chick with kids, but a chick with kids IN JAIL. gee, why haven't i heard from him again?

I KNOW. I SHOULD BE MORE WORRIED ABOUT MY KID THAN MY DATING LIFE. I FULLY ADMIT TO BEING A HORRIBLE PERSON.

of course, when it rains, it pours, at the same time all this is happening, the small child decides it's time to test boundaries too. he made a stupid comment in wood shop class, a girl went home and repeated it to her dad, dad went to the superintendent of the school district and wanted to press sexual harassment charges against my son (incident went something like this: they're making wooden c02 cars to race: girl: i know what you're going to use the c02 hole for. my kid: we know what you're going to use your dildo car for."). so my son gets 2 days in-school-intervention and has to change his whole school schedule so he won't have any more classes with the girl. he just got done with a week of lunch detention for being caught in the middle of a fight (that he was trying to break up). he's also failing science.

so one kid in jail, one kid in school detention of one form or another.

SUPER SUCCESSFUL PARENTING MOMENT. frame that fucking snapshot and put it on the fridge.

i am not a bad mom. i am not a bad person. i don't want either of my kids to be delinquents. or felons. or failures. we have some hard days ahead. there will be parent teacher meetings and court appearances and hard decisions and consequences all around. but, in the mean time, please don't think poorly of me. please don't label me the single teen mom statistic. please don't judge us too harshly.

behind the names

so ones of you have asked what's with the names when it comes to the stories. there's a few parts of this:

#1- I never use real names. ever. it helps protect the not-so-innocent. I don't want names popping up in google search, having people use them to stalk or find info, contact, on and on. additionally, it protects me. if someone doesn't like a story, it's up to them to out themselves and claim their second identity. finally- friends and friends of friends know some of these people outside the little blogosphere. im ok airing MY dirty laundry but I don't want to air theirs per say.

#2 how the names are selected: it seems most nicknames explain themselves. cities/countries: where the boy is from. sadly, not places I've been to. *sigh* I wish I travelled that much. military branches pretty much are what they are. jobs, holidays, it's sadly basic and unimaginative. shoulder blades is the only "odd" one that comes to mind and when I get around to that story (I may have already posted it once) youll understand that.

#3 YES, these are real stories. YES, all these boys exist. YES, I could write a full (and then some) 50 shades. I realize this may label me a whore, tramp, hussy, WHATEVER to some people. it is what it is. I have several reasons, explanations, theories, excuses...it is what it is. some of it was young/stupid. some of it was proving something to myself. the last several years have been plain and simple because I like sex and I'm not ashamed of it. if a partner isn't particularly satisfying I have no problem (most of the time) cutting loose and moving on. I also have a serious aversion to relationships so there's no "black out" times with the exception of my 23 month marriage. there's been years I've elected not to have sex. there's been years sex has elected to not have me. there's been times I would have made for one hell of a jerry springer show.

end of the day: it is what it is. I'm not ashamed of any of it. each experience had its own lesson. and each experience was just that: an experience. I've been able to pass on wisdom, help others, recognize problems early in, define what I am looking for, know when it's time to get out (ok...still working on that one.)

so. there's the behind the scenes. now. back to the stories.

you can't call me: late for dinner

recently i asked my friends to use three words to describe me. among the amazing responses were the following:

outgoing, open minded, funny, strong, open to new experiences, the person you want in your corner, well educated, hilarious, one in a million, brilliantly sarcastic, excellent mother, strong woman, witty, creator of fantastically caustic remarks, awesome, reliable/dependable, trustworthy, witty, funny, creative, up for anything, and, most awesomely: bacon, lettuce, tomato.

how YOU doin?

first off: totally humbled by the things people posted. i have some amazing friends and i could say the same things about all of them.

second: let me point out a few things that WEREN'T used to describe me:

tattooed, pierced, punk

what makes me bring up those three things specifically?

well, during the recent boyfriend experiment those were exactly the three things that were used to describe me. to an ex. during a conversation to allow a child stay at my house.

i'll let you guess how that ended up.

to say that it bothered me would be putting it lightly. obviously. it made it to the blog-o-sphere.

do i have tattoos? yeah. do i have piercings? ears and my nose. nothing more. am i a punk? fuck no. not in any way.

i think what bothered me most is it made me feel like a freak. like a show and tell piece. like someTHING instead of someONE.

of all the ways to describe me or introduce me to someone or talk about me- it wasn't about ME. it wasn't about WHO i am.

i've never been ashamed of my tattoos before. I LOVE THEM. i love my little piece of purple hair. it's my little way of not being boring. of not giving up and just being another bland carpool mom. it lets me still be ME in the middle of all the things i'm "supposed" to be. as to my piercings- i had my ears pierced when i was FIVE. and my nose- so what? it's nothing. it's a tiny little jewel that most people don't even notice. i dont have my face pierced up, i don't have dermal anchors or corset piercings or dermal implants or body modifications and SO WHAT if i did? if i chose to do all those things and join a traveling side show and have that as my barker name, THEN you could describe me that way. until then, whose business is it?

for the first time i was ashamed. i questioned my decisions. i felt bad about being different or outside the traditional cookie cutter. i was made to feel like it made me a bad person or a bad mom. there was more to it. there always is. but I HATE THAT. i hate that because one person decided to twist a few things about me it made me pause. i actually took time to think about changing my hair or taking out my nose ring so i would "fit in better" (what does that even mean? fit into what?) i wondered how many people judge me by what they see and how offensive i am and all the CRAP that goes with it.

then i stopped. and i realized: people that judge me that way aren't people i particularly want around anyway. so. there's that.

but i will say: i understand that not everyone appreciates ways i've chosen to express myself. i get it. tattoos aren't for everyone. quite a few people don't understand purple hair. I GET IT. i don't shove it in people's faces. if i'm meeting someone new i tame down and wear long sleeves and make sure my hair is covered. i don't want people to be uncomfortable. most of all: i don't want people to judge me. i probably worry about that more than i should. i just want to be here. i just want to meet people and have them get to know me and know the things my friends know. i don't want to be someTHING. i want to be someONE.

and to the people that matter, i am.