Fuckity Fuck Fuck FUCK

God, I am just so fucking pissed off right now.

Bf is asleep downstairs on the couch. Half an hour into finally spending some together on his day off, he fell asleep.

He spent the earlier part of the evening with Baby Momma. She had called him up and demanded that he take her grocery shopping, as she cannot drive after losing her license for drunk driving, and then still crashing TWO cars while driving with a revoked license. And so, even though he spent his day off at the ski hill, he drove across the city to do her bidding.

He also stayed to bathe Baby for her. I guess her arms were fucking broke.

They're going to be if she doesn't stop fucking with me.

I spent the time he was with her trying to convince myself not to throw in the towel, not to give up hope, but tonight's little saga just confirmed for me what I have been trying to deny for months now - that things are never going to get better with Baby Momma. Even though her threat of taking Baby to live in Ontario if Bf doesn't do every fucking thing she tells him to is no longer an issue (since they went to court), he is still her fucking puppet, and always will be.

I have lost faith because, just as Bf said, Baby Momma will always be here, and apparently, Bf will always do whatever she tells him to do. And while that bugs the FUCK out of me, it is not the primary problem. The primary problem lies in the fact that Baby Momma is so angry and hateful towards me that I no longer believe that she will restrain herself from involving Baby in her quest to harm me. Just as she stated in her Facebook message last week, she can't WAIT to tell Baby all about me - the eating disorder, the former drug problem, everything. She is just DYING to tell Baby everything I have ever done wrong, simply because as it is right now, Baby just loves me too much. She doesn't care that trashing Baby's stepmum and fueling the hatred between us is going to damage Baby and fuck her up. As long as Baby Momma wins in the end, she just doesn't fucking care. It wouldn't surprise me if she is already telling Baby horrible things about me. Which, as usual, leaves ME with the decision of what is best for Baby - even though they are BABY MOMMA'S FUCKING ACTIONS that will harm Baby, it becomes MY fault for staying, for not allowing her run me off when she fucking wanted me gone. Her intent is very clear - she clearly has no qualms about using her daughter to try to hurt me, and will tell Baby just about anything to ensure her devotion to her mother and to try and make her stop loving me. So now, as the only fucking ADULT in this situation, I have to decide what is best for Baby. Do I stay and fight and risk letting her mother use her as pawn for her own selfish gains and potentially fuck Baby up in the EXACTY SAME WAY Baby Momma's mother did to her? Or do I let her win and slink away with my tail between my legs, losing the love of my life and my stepdaughter of the past eighteen months because it is the ONLY way to protect Baby from her own mother?

I tried to broach the subject with Bf tonight, but he told me that I couldn't possibly know how Baby Momma is going to act in the future, so why should I worry about it? So basically, just stick my head back in the sand and pretend that none of this is happening.

I am so exhausted. Why did he have to procreate with such a FUCKING LUNATIC? Why is she so fucking hateful? And do I really think I can put up this shit for THE REST OF MY FUCKING LIFE?

I just want to fucking cry.

Suck It, Baby Momma

Isn't that picture the cutest thing you have ever seen? i was thinking about changing my profile pic on Facebook to that pic - since I blocked Baby Momma, that's the only way to get her to see it ;)

Baby is with her mum right now. No news yet on if she has said anything about Momma Kg, but since my car hasn't exploded upon starting, I am going to assume that I am safe. For now.

I have been having a craptacular time on the job front. I applied to a shit load of jobs online, and when that didn't work, I got all dolled up and went in to the place I want to work at most - a massive bookstore conglomerate - and tried to apply in person. Get this - THEY REFUSED TO ACCEPT MY RESUME. I was told to apply online, I said that I had, could I also leave a resume with them? And they said NO. Isn't that bizarre? I wanted to reassure them that my resume wasn't actually laced with anthrax, but I figured smart ass remarks wouldn't help matters, so I just thanked them politely and walked back out again. I guess I get to go back to my reclusive, anti-social ways of job searching, and just keep applying online.

Oh, I did actually get one call back. It was from a company I don't recall applying to. I looked through my confirmation emails of every place I had applied to, and couldn't find AIL anywhere. So I googled them, to see if I could figure out what position I had applied for.

I found them. Whoo HOO, did I find them!

I found endless forums and posts about this sweet little company that has been ripping people off throughout This Province and The One Beside It for a few years now. Basically, they post a fake job offer - I figured out it was the busy-dealership-looking-for-a-receptionist ad that hadn't left it's company name - and then call all their "applicants" and offer them an interview. Each person is told that even though they applied for this or that, they are really well suited to work sales for AIL's insurance company, and are promised elaborate pipe-dream promises about how much money they are going to make. At the interview, once they have their fish on the hook about how much money they are going to make doing sales for AIL, the applicants are then told that all they need to do to get started is to pay $312 for a license, plus and additional $300-something for the training and administration fee. Many people have apparently forked over the money, only to discover themselves in commission-only jobs with no leads, where the only work they can do is to recruit new suckers to give the company the fees to get started.

FUCK ME. I can't believe that the ONE fucking phone call I get is for a fucking scam! But thank fuck for the Interweb, this series of tubes - otherwise, I would have gotten my hopes up and called them back about an interview. From my former years of modeling, I know better than to fork over a single cent to EVER secure a job, but I was excited that I had finally gotten a call for a job. What a shit show.

Other than that, I had a pretty good day today. My back was spasming too badly to go to the gym, but 2 extra strength Advils and two Robaxecets later, I was comfortable enough to do a few things at home. I was sore from the workout I had done two days ago, but I finished anyway, and was feeling pretty good about myself at the end. I am still at the same weight, but I am starting to lean out again, which makes me feel so much better about everything. And I am excited to get back into the gym tomorrow, to keep this happy-with-my-weight thing alive.

Well, it is now 4 in the morning, and I know I am just kinda rambling now, so I think I will go to bed. I'll write tomorrow, when hopefully I will actually have something substantial to say.

Night.

Cowardly, but SO cute

I didn't send the letter to Baby Momma.

I knew that I wouldn't.

Though it was kinda fun to pretend that maybe I might consider that I would.

Bf talked me out of it - well, in the way that guys will make out that their buddy is holding them back from kicking your ass, and you're so lucky he's holding me back cuz I would kick your ass, if only he weren't holding me back, that kind of thing.

He asked me to please not arm her with such awesome ammunition to use against us in court, but instead just keep stockpiling all the things that she sends me. And though I felt a sickening amount of frustration that once again, she gets to hurt me without any fucking consequences, I can admit that I also felt an insane amount of relief. I want to defend myself, of course I do, but i really don't want to invite even more abuse upon myself.

I have been getting a lot of support on the Do Not Reply side:

Dad: Ignore her. Who wants to argue with a five year old?

Mum: Don't stoop to her level. Rise above this.

Sponsor: She sounds like a spoiled teenager having a temper tantrum. That letter is just so, so rude.

Joshie, God bless her, was the only one who supported the sending of my response letter to Baby Momma. She was the only one who agreed that I should stand up for myself.

Joshie: Hey I just read your letter. Send it! Send it! She can't just get away with this.

Ah, Joshie. You are such a good friend ;)

And actually, there was one other person whose reaction was along the same lie as Joshie's, but which came out of nowhere and shocked me with it's ferocity - my new sister-in-law, K:

K: O wow...i swear to god if i ever know who that bitch is and she crosses me paths with me i will fucking kill her.

Tee hee! I LOVE my new sister!

Everyone else is telling me to rise above, that I am better than that, etc, etc, which is incredibly unsatisfying. Personally, all I really hope is that when Bf and Baby Momma go to court in April to fight for custody, that all my months of suffering from her acid tongue and endless rage and abuse will all have been worth it, that her actions will FINALLY have some consequences, and it will be her own actions in the end that lose her custody of her daughter.

If it doesn't, I can always send her all the draft letters that I have written but never sent every time she verbally attacked. Maybe then our rage could be on an equal playing field, even for just a few minutes.

Moving on. As you can see, I went and got my tattoo fixed up today. I hadn't heard from Y, the tattoo artist, in the three weeks since I first got my nin tattoo done, even though I paid a deposit to get him started on the next one. He had promised to email me with some sketches within a week, and yesterday I decided that I was sufficiently pissed off, and called the shop.

"Hey Y, it's Kg," I said when he answered the phone. "Just wondering what was happening with my Black Dahlia sketches?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, somewhat evasively. "Um, yeah, they're done."

Then why didn't you call me two weeks ago? I wondered silently.

Before I could say anything, he piped up again. "I just have to finish the banner."

What banner? I fumed. There WAS no banner!

I asked him if I could come in and see it the following day, and if we could also fix up the nin tat. As usual, he didn't have a single appointment booked, so we agreed that I would just call ahead, and come in any time I wanted.

I don't mean to be so snotty about him. He is a really good artist, and as he is just starting out and is new to the City, he doesn't have a lot of clients yet. But it frustrates me that here I am, throwing money at him and begging him to do some work for me, and then I have to chase him and pin him down just to see the sketches.

I ended up having a nap this afternoon before going in to the shop, and it ran a bit late. I Emla'd my arm as usual, but because I had so little time to get to IC, it didn't work. I had to do my first full tattoo sans numbing agent. Bf asked me after if I felt more like I had earned it this time.

"Fuck no!" I replied.

When I got to the shop, I showed Y what I wanted to do to finish my nin tat. Just before he set up his stuff, he went and grabbed the sketches he had done for my Black Dahlia tattoo.

I hate to say it, but I was so disappointed. It seemed pretty obvious to me that the drawings had been done in a rush. He had incorporated only half the things I had asked him to, skipping on out what I felt where the most important elements. The two women were also very cartooney, which is exactly what I told him I didn't want. I have been trying for so long to get this fucking tattoo! When I saw Y's portfolio three weeks ago, I thought that we might have a winner, but alas, we have not. Though his art work is beautiful, he didn't listen to what I wanted.

I tried to hide my disappointment, though, and told him that the sketches were very good, there were just a few things we needed to change.

"Ok," he said. "We can talk about it after. I'll just set up for today's tattoo."

I had decided to add some text to my wrist tat, so while Y was getting ready I googled the With Teeth album to get the exact font. Y came over to help me print it up exactly as it was on the album.

I needed to tell him that I wanted to use the deposit I had paid for the Black Dahlia on my nin tat instead, but I was so worried about hurting his feelings, even though he had simply ignored what I asked for in the first place. I finally worked up the courage to ask just before we got started.

"So, is it okay if I use my deposit to pay for today's work?" I asked tentatively. "I am really short on cash right now, I am going to have wait to do my Black Dahlia."

To my immense relief, he agreed that I could.

It really sucked, not having my arm completely numbed out like usual. For my first ever tattoo, which I got maybe 6-8 months ago, I had Emla'd a small area on my wrist, but ending up using half my forearm, so I felt most of that tattoo being carved in to my arm. I felt ALL of this one, though. It also swelled quite badly after - when I took the bandage off later that night, my arm was bumpy with ridges, rising where the slashes had swollen, then dipping down again between the slashes, where my skin had been left untouched. I think it may be because it has only been three weeks since I got the first slashes done - maybe because it didn't get a lot of time to heal, it was extra sensitive to more needles.

When Y was finally done and I got to see the finished result, I was SO glad I had sucked it up and done it right away. I am so much happier with it now - before, it had been so lightly drawn it had faded so much that it just looked like I had drawn them on with a Sharpie. Now, the black is filled in completely, and the surrounding red and the writing on my wrist make it look like an actual tattoo.

We went to the front desk when we were done, so I could pay the balance remaining after my deposit. While I was rifling through my purse, we discussed the Black Dahlia sketches, and I confessed to him that they were too cartooney, that I was looking for something more realistic, more portraity. He then suggested that I might want to check out Peace's work, the owner of the shop, who had been tattooing a very tattooed man at the station beside me. I agreed with relief that maybe I should check out his portfolio, though I also suggested that i could email Y with more pictures of what exactly I wanted. I left with the whole thing kinda open-ended, which suited me perfectly.

A few hours after I got home tonight, I perused Peace's portfolio, and decided that I definitely wanted to go with him. I am going to leave it for a few weeks - which, since I am running out of cash, I kinda have to do anyway - and then I am going to ask Peace to sketch up my Black Dahlia.

When I got home from the tattoo parlor, Bf was sitting on the couch in his jacket, looking something up on the computer. For whatever reason things have been a little cold between us the past few days, and tonight was no exception. I think it may be coming mostly from me, as right now, every little thing I hear about Baby Momma gets my hackles up.

When I got home tonight, we just sat in our chairs on opposite sides of the room, barely speaking. We would each try to start a conversation, and it would last for two or three sentences, before we would fade back into an awkward silence. Finally, I had had enough, and stormed ut of the living room and into the kitchen, where I started banging dishes around as I tidied up.

Bf appeared behind me just as a tear escaped and slid down my face. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me at the sink. I leaned back against his chest, and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Why are you crying?" he asked as he turned me around to face him.

"I don't know," I said miserably, hating how whiny and girl-like I sounded. "I just feel like you're mad at me or something."

"Why would I be mad at you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I sighed.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he echoed.

"Do you want to hang out with me?" I blurted out.

"Yes," he said. "Do you want to hang out with me?"

"Yes!" I cried, frustrated.

We stared at each other for a moment, then Bf offered me his hand. I turned off the tap and let him lead me out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

We decided we would go out for dinner. Gradually the tension eased up throughout the evening, and by the time we got back home, we were back in out regular groove, talking and laughing and cuddling up to watch t.v. together. He oohed and aahed over my fixed tattoo, and I gave him a back massage, and when we went to bed, we were finally reconnected again.

Must be the power of the nin tattoo.

If Only I Had The Balls!

This is the letter that I wrote in response to Baby Momma's:

Put your drink down for a moment, BM, and listen to me very carefully. I have held my tongue while you verbally abused me for long enough. If you can dish it, you better be able to take it.

I AM NOT TRYING TO STEAL YOUR DAUGHTER. It was not MY decision to leave her here for FOUR out of the past FIVE WEEKS - it was YOURS. What do you expect your daughter to think when you can’t be assed to spend any time with her? YOU NEED TO GROW UP AND TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR OWN ACTIONS, YOU UNGRATEFUL, UNEDUCATED, WHITE TRASH WHORE, AND STOP BLAMING EVERYONE ELSE FOR YOUR PROBLEMS. You are a vicious, mean-spirited, spoiled little brat BM, and YOU are the reason why you will always be ALONE. You seem to think that the world fucking owes you something, and expect everything to be done for you. You suck the life and joy out of anyone who comes into contact with you through your malicious, selfish, abhorrent behavior. There is a reason your daughter prefers to be here - your anger seeps out out of your every pore and orifice and poisons everyone and everything around you, INCLUDING YOUR DAUGHTER. YOU ARE THE ONE DAMAGING YOUR DAUGHTER, WITH YOUR UGLY, HATEFUL ACTIONS. You are constantly angry and acting like a fucking martyr, thinking everyone is screwing you over, nobody helps you and your life SO fucking hard. Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and take responsibility for your actions like the rest of us have to. YOU chose to leave your daughter here for four out of five weeks, NOT ME; YOU choose to be a dancer; YOU chose to treat everyone like shit and then have to travel to work because nobody wants you here; YOU choose to treat everyone in your life like they exist merely to service your every fucking desire, and then wonder why no one can stand to be anywhere near you. How DARE you accuse me of being a bad role model for your daughter, WHEN YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A FUCKING SEVEN YEAR OLD? I am constantly amazed by how fucking selfish and disgusting you can be. And what goes around comes around, BM? Have you stopped your tirade long enough to consider that maybe that is EXACTLY what is happening to you? That all your years of acting like a spoiled brat and destroying the souls of everyone around you is the reason why you are so fucking miserable? And what’s going to happen to me? Am I going to have bad karma because I treat your daughter like gold? When I cater to her every whim, and tell her over and over again how good she is and that she is loved even though her mother isn’t around to tell her herself - what’s going to happen to me then? And you may know what it is like to give birth, but that doesn’t make you a good mother. You are fucking lucky to have Bf and I around Baby, to undo the damage YOU cause with your constant fucking tantrums. You should be ashamed of yourself for displaying such abhorrent behavior in front of your child, teaching her that bullying and throwing tantrums is acceptable behavior. You FUCKING CHILD. And while I may have problems of my own, at least I am getting help and getting over them. Who is going to cure you, BM? You are sicker in your black and ugly soul than I will EVER be. You are also a raging alcoholic, so get down off your fucking high horse, you moron. You STILL abuse substances the way I USED to - we are exactly the same. And you can leave your book of lies and tell Baby whatever horse shit you want to, but she is a smart kid - I doubt she’ll believe a word of it. It will just be more proof to her how hateful and malicious her mother really is. I would never be so selfish as to display ANY negative behaviors in front of Baby, EVER - UNLIKE YOU. So go fuck yourself. And I really don’t give a flying fuck how you think I look, your opinion holds absolutely no value to anyone but yourself. And I’ve never been fired or had customers complain because I was too fat, BM. But you have.

I pray every day that if you love your daughter as much as you say you do, then you’ll get some fucking help, before Baby becomes as black and ugly as you are. Oh, and maybe you can spend some fucking time with her, too, asshole.

And don’t bother throwing yet another fucking tantrum about this letter. I was more than happy to keep these opinions to myself, but you just had to keep acting like such a fucking cunt towards me, attacking me again and again when all I have done is take care of your daughter. You brought all of this on yourself, BM, so enjoy being on the receiving end for once. You are truly the most selfish and disgusting person I know.

Do I dare send it?

In all honesty, I prolly won't. Though every word I wrote is true, and I want so badly to stand up for myself just ONCE to one of her attacks, I am so scared to make things worse. I am terrified that despite all of the horrible things that she has said and written to and about me, if I retaliate in any way, and speak out against her, she will come on me stronger than ever. I mean, look at how brutally she attacks me, when I go to such great pains to stay away from her? I haven't spoken to her directly in prolly six weeks - and yet somehow everything that's wrong in her life is still my fault, and from out of nowhere she attacks me. I have never responded in kind, as I hoped if I just ignored her, she would eventually go away. But she is still coming at me, so now I can't help but think, what's the difference? She already hates me and attacks me whenever it takes her fancy, so really, what difference does it make if I say my piece back? Keeping my mouth shut obviously hasn't made her stop, but it has eaten at my insides. I hate rolling over and just taking it from her, and it doesn't seem to have done me any good, anyway. Maybe hurting her back is the only way to deal with her.

I just don't know what to do. I have two days left to decide, as she is returning from working a week in Vancouver on Sunday. As I have now blocked her from contacting me in any way, the only way I have left to get this to her is to leave it in her mailbox before she gets back. I was thinking of letting Bf read it and asking his opinion on it, but I am sure I already know what his response would be. I am sure that he would say that I am just sinking to her level, that the things I wrote are cruel, and that I am only going to enrage her further.

All excellent points.

On to more important things, like what I have been doing with myself over the past few days. Um...hmmm. I've had Baby for the past four days, so I haven't had a whole lot of time to myself. I haven't even gone back to the police station to file my report. I just haven't had time to write it out on the triplicate paper the constable gave me, nor have I done as he asked and gone back to get the exact street names. I guess I just haven't felt very motivated to pursue it since Constable F confirmed absolutely that it is pretty much pointless.

Well, that's really all I have to say for today. Sorry it was so boring.

37 Days

Last night, I finally picked up my 30 day chip at a meeting. It is actually 37 days today since I last had a drink, but I wanted to go with Bf, and this was the first chance we had to go together.

It was a good meeting for us to be at. A woman named H was celebrating her 2 years, and the person to present her with her chip and bday card was her non alcoholic husband, R. It was good for Bf and I to see a glimpse into our future - I hope that we will be in H and R's places in two years time, and Bf will be presenting me with my 2 year chip.

Here in the present, I am at home today with Baby while Bf is snowboarding with his buddies. We have had a pretty good day today, and though Baby has a cold she is in a great mood, and extra cuddly. I love it when she sits in my lap and curls up under my chin, resting her head against my chest. It makes me feel so loved, and also makes me think that I have done a good job in making her feel loved, too.

We tried to go to the doctor's office first thing this morning, but it was absolutely packed, and we ended up having to give up so we could get to my dentist appointment at 11:30. It was just a quick check in after my dental surgery, but I noticed, and not for the first time, the disgusted look of one of the receptionists there. Now that my $10,000 surgeries are done, she makes absolutely no effort to hide her distaste for me. I don't know what her fucking problem is, but she will actually stare at me in disgust, even when I have asked her a question. I had half a mind to call her out on it today, when I couldn't get a response from her without her snotty fucking attitude, but I had Baby with me, and just decided to leave it. But she really has offended me, to the point that I am considering writing a letter to Dr. Yu to complain. I can't put my finger on what exactly she is doing, but there has been such a change in her demeanor from when I first walked through the door - she used to be so polite and pleasant to me. And while I am angry and want to do something to show her that I think the way she's acting towards me is very unprofessional, the truth is that as usual, my feelings are hurt. These people know the very depths of my eating disorder, and the damage that it has caused. I feel hurt and betrayed that she is suddenly looking down on me, like I am less than human.

I wish I wasn't so goddamned sensitive. I wish I didn't give a fuck what any of these people thought of me. I tried to start reading a book by the Dalai Lhama, "See Yourself As You Really Are", though after four chapters I decided it was just too abstract for me, and tossed it back on the To Be Read pile. But I did manage to grasp one concept, which was that pretty much all of the things that are bothering me don't actually exist. They seem to exist to me, in my mind, but they do not physically exist. Which is all very well, and sometimes I can actually wrap my head around the concept, but most of the time I am still just so hurt and angry at the way Baby Momma has been treating me.

I wish I could stop thinking about it. I wish that she wasn't occupying my every fucking thought. I vacillate between vicious letters written in my head, and desperate attempts to come up with a solution. All in all, it is fucking exhausting.

I'm off to an Eating Meeting. Back in a bit.

*****************************************

I'm back. Baby is currently cuddled into my back and telling her Dad "No, MY Kg!" We are watching the Simpsons, which is my one break from the monotony of children's cartoons for the past 13 hours. WEll, except Big and Small, but we didn't get to see the whole thing this morning, as we had to get to the doctor's office. I don't know why, but I fucking LOVE that show. I get more excited when it comes on than even Baby does.

I have Baby again tomorrow, which is going to make four days in a row. Normally I wouldn't mind, but with the latest soap opera from Baby Momma

C U Next Tuesday, Baby Momma

Here is the email I got from Baby Momma at around 2 am last night:

"hey why dont you get your own kid you fucking dumb bitch hope your happy now that you took my life from me trust me kage life is bitch and you will get yours the end you fat pig you know what s funny is i had a kid and i still look better then your sorry ass you suck and and will never know how grat it fells to have something better then your self ps you fat just so you know lol thanks for showing my baby how to be sick you ass hole dont worry this is the ladt time you her from me but let it be known my little one will knoe the truth when she is older i lerft her a book night bitch hope you get over wht ever it is you think is wrong with you you brat"

Nice, hey? This is what was waiting for me when I finished my last show. I had two stags last night, and they both actually went super well, though the second one was a bit awkward. It was a group of lesbians, and it was interesting to see who would get jealous when I would give their girlfriend some attention. I wasn't entirely sure what to do about that, as I have only danced for lesbian parties a handful of times, so I started pairing the girls off with their significant others and then involving them together, at the same time. Anyone who wasn't comfortable with the whole thing could just say no, and I wouldn't touch them or their girlfriends.

No, the parties last night weren't what got me, and weren't the setting for when some guy would impose his will upon me. It was between stags, when I was lost in the Poor Neighborhood area. I won't write it all right now, I'll just paste in the police report when Bf and I get back from the cop shop, but suffice it to say, it wasn't good. And how interesting is it that it didn't happen at a stag, nor in my capacity as an exotic entertainer. I was just a regular old civilian, and he was just a FUCKING DOUCHEBAG.

I was in a pretty lousy headspace when I got home. When Bf had called earlier to see where I was, I had told him about Baby Momma's letter and the douchebag assaulted me in Poor Neighbourhood. By the time I got home I was so angry, I just started yelling at him and crying and throwing things around. I blamed him for Baby Momma's latest onslaught, though I know that he is doing his best to handle her. I ended up refusing to go to bed with him, as I wanted to stay up and write a scathing letter to Baby Momma. He went, and a few minutes later I followed him.

"What's baby Momma's email address?" I demanded, shaking him awake.

He begged me to just leave it for tonight, that I could write it but wait until tomorrow before I sent it. He eventually calmed me down enough to agree to write it tonight, and then if I still wanted to send it in the morning, he would give me her email address. I stormed back downstairs, but fell asleep while I was rereading what she had sent me.

I woke up around quarter after ten this morning. when Baby came downstairs and started playing with my hair. My eyes were sore and swollen from crying, and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. Bf hovered around, methodically asking every five to ten minutes if I was alright. I had started crying again almost immediately upon waking up, and after a half hearted attempt at normalcy by eating some oatmeal, I gave up and went back to sleep on the couch.

I woke up again to find Bf checking his Facebook on my lap top. I sat up silently so that he wouldn't delete anything before I could see it, and read over his shoulder.

There was a new status update (or whatever it's called) from Baby Momma:

"Hey happy you and your dumb bitch took over my life and now my little one has no clue who I am well I guess it good but how good can it be when your girlfriend is a cracker hahaha oh well at least I can have my own baby."

I don’t know what I am supposed to do here. One part of me is happy; Baby Momma obviously knows about my eating disorder, which is a major stress that has now been lifted; she is also providing me with more and more evidence to bring to court to prove that she is mentally unstable, a raging alcoholic, and emotionally abusive, and is therefore an unfit parent. But the other part of me that has had all that she can take from this fucking psycho wants revenge - wants to stoop to her level, and do something awful to hurt her back. I want to wrench and tear at her heart as she continously does mine.

Bf told me that she has accused us of doing this deliberately. Her latest claim is that we have been brain washing her daughter into believing that I am her real mother. I have done nothing of the sort, but what does she expect when baby is here five out of six weeks? I have her half the time she is here, as Bf works 11 hour days and only gets one day off a week, plus I am here in with her in the mornings and evenings, too. Baby and I have spent an awful lot of time together in the past five weeks, but this was not my decision - it was BABY MOMMA'S. In all truth, I think she is feeling guilty for hardly ever seeing her daughter, and she is taking it out on me. It is so fucking frustrating - I understand her leaving baby with us when she needs to work. But last week, she left Baby with us 3 out her HER 7 days, and she wasn't working ANY of those days. And I know that at least one of those days she ditched Baby so she could go out drinking, as I have the evidence of her drunken rage in the form of that letter. SHE is the one who keeps ditching her daughter - it makes me SICK that she has the fucking nerve to accuse me of trying to steal her daughter when she can't be fucking assed to act like Baby's mother.

When all of this first started, and I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when it came to children, I read the book “What To Expect, The Toddler Years”, and just did what it told me to do. It must have worked, as shortly after I put my newfound knowledge to use, Baby became somewhat infatuated with me. I don’t ask her to favor me - in fact, I feel awful when she pushes her dad away or tells him to leave her alone, she wants Kg to do it! I just did what the book told me to do! But the more time I spend with her, the more instinctual it has become. The book gave me a great foundation to start with, and with it’s guidance I have discovered what I believe is a great way of parenting. I KNOW that I am a good parent, putting love and kindness at the forefront of everything I do, always making sure that Baby knows she is a good girl and is loved and cherished and safe from harm, even if her mother is too busy getting drunk and banging half the guys in Calgary. But I have also learned to create boundaries, hopefully to help her grow from a self centered toddler into the sweet little girl I can already she that she is. Baby Momma accused me of not being able to care for her child because I am not a mother, and therefore could not possibly know how to care for her daughter as well as she does. And I can admit that initially, I did have to consult the manual for everything that I did. But the more time I spend with Baby, the more I am beginning to trust my instinct. And now I am pretty sure that I know just as much as Baby Momma, if not more.

I am meant to watch Baby a few days this week, and on the day after I got Baby Momma’s letter, I found myself wondering aloud to Bf if it would be better if I didn’t. I wondered if maybe we needed to put some distance between Baby and myself, to try and slow down her increasing fondness for me. Bf pointed out that I would just be doing exactly what baby Momma wants me to do, which is to distance myself from Baby, and why should Baby have to suffer as a result? I agreed, but the next day with Baby I found myself taking a different approach, despite myself.

“Do you miss your Mummy, Baby?” I asked her as we were playing in her room.

“No,” she said bluntly.

“Oh,” I said, momentarily stumped.

I tried again. “You love your Mummy, don’t you, Baby?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I love Momma Kg!”

FUCK!

“I love you too, Baby,” I replied hastily. “But do you know who else I love? I love your Mummy! I sure do miss her, don’t you? She’s so pretty and nice! I love her so much!”

Baby didn’t reply, but I spent the day waxing lyrical about her mother and pointing out the difference between Mommy and Momma Kg, trying to get her to repeat the nice things that I said. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but eventually I realized guiltily that what I was doing wasn’t really fair to Baby. I was, just as Baby Momma had accused, trying to make Baby think a certain way, the way I wanted her to. Eventually I gave up. Baby was going to think and say whatever she wanted to, and it was wrong to mess with her head and tell her that anything she thinks or feels is wrong. I would just have to bear the brunt of her mother’s rage the best I could.

I had actually been enjoying another brief hiatus from Baby Momma’s lunacy before the Facebook letter on Saturday night, as I changed my phone number and blocked her on my Blackberry Messenger, but they never last - her anger always finds a way to reach me and burn me. This latest slew of emotional abuse is nothing less than I expect from her, but it still hurts. The fact that she now knows about my eating disorder and is going out of her way to call me a fat pig at every opportunity is really hard on me. I want so badly to prove her wrong, to shut that vicious mouth of hers by getting skinny again. And it hurts that she keeps referring to my past problems with drugs, because I have fought so hard to overcome them, yet thanks to her I feel like I have done no work at all, and am still in active addiction. The only course of revenge I have is to keep getting better, so that I can prove myself in court and disprove all of her accusations, but to be honest, it is incredibly unsatisfying. What I want most is not actually to hurt her per se, but just to find a way to SHUT HER THE FUCK UP. I knew that she would go out of her way to impede my recovery from my eating disorder once she found out, and she is certainly doing that.

I’ll end this post with two texts that she sent to Bf the day before her drunken letter to me on Facebook:

“Hope your happy now Bf’s given name now you get what you wanted hope you and your ltyle family are happy have a good life I will send you money for baby.”

“Tell Kg she wins I guess crackers can have babys to all they have to do is take them from someone? Well at least she doesn’t have to getfat.”