Sweet Freedom!

Bob will be on a train in approximately 30 minutes to go see the egg donor for a week. Hallelujah! I am going to enjoy this week....a break is LONG overdue. Merry Christmas everyone!

Mishaps with a plunger

Last night I about packed my bags and moved out....for good.

It started when our 4 year old came running up the stairs to report the downstairs bathroom toilet was plugged up. The only one who uses the toilet in the downstairs bathroom is Bob. No one else is brave enough to go in there...it truly is HIS bathroom. I told Bob to grab the plunger and go take care of it. He hollers from the bathroom "Hey, I don't think I did this...the water is really brown". Newsflash Bob...that is what happens when turds sit in water for who knows how long. We tell him to just plunge it and get it over with.

Next we hear Bob say "Hey, do you guys want me to rinse off the plunger?" The hubby happened to look down the stairs and see Bob standing in the hallway, plunger in hand with it dripping all over the carpet. The look on the hubby's face made me get up and go take a look. I quickly told Bob to get his butt back into the bathroom and sarcastically said I didn't really want poo-water on the carpet!! I couldn't believe it! I swear, just when you think there could be no more stupidity....SURPRISE!

I told Bob that yes, he needed to rinse off the plunger. I walked away. Trying with all I had to keep my cool. To a normal person rinsing the plunger would mean flushing the toilet and rinsing it in the clean water. To Bob that meant putting the plunger in the sink. I heard the water running and went back downstairs...praying I wouldn't find what I suspected I would. Sure enough...there was Bob holding the plunger in one hand under the sink faucet and WIPING THE PLUNGER OFF WITH HIS OTHER HAND!! There are no words for this. As I write this I feel myself getting angry again.

Note to self: Do not shake Bob's hand....ever.

By the light of the saber...

Bob has a pretty strict bed time because he has such a hard time getting up in the morning. If he wants to read before bed, he needs to do it before 'lights out' time. One night as the hubby was going up the stairs (at about 11:00pm...well past Bob's bed time) he noticed a faint glow coming from Bob's room. The hubby opened the door to find Bob laying on his bed holding his light saber and reading his book. Wow. Desperate times call for desperate measures apparently. Bob just gave him that deer in the headlights look and didn't say a word. He shut off his light saber and closed his book. The door got closed and everyone went to bed. One of these days Bob will realize that putting a blanket, shirt or pillow in front of his door would eliminate the chance of us seeing any light coming through under the door. I'm not going to be the one to share this secret. It's pretty funny how un-sneaky Bob is.

The mother of all gifts

Bob came home from school with quite a little trinket today. In honor of "Vader's" arm break he was awarded a certificate for bravery with the name DARTH VADER printed on it. As if that wasn't good enough he was also given a light saber. That's right...a light saber. To any "normal" teenage boy this would have been embarrassing...but to Bob it meant everything. I'm just glad Dr. Marvin convinced Bob to tuck it away under his coat while walking home from school. There is no doubt in my mind that Bob would have been fighting invisible Star Wars creatures on the way home if that conversation hadn't taken place. So THANK YOU DR. MARVIN. Bob loves his light saber. It's so special to him that he won't let his 4 year old brother play with it. He is also holding his certificate close to his heart because I cannot find it anywhere. I wanted to scan it in for the world to see, but it is nowhere to be found. I assume Bob carries it with him at all times. Thanks to the school and Dr. Marvin for making Bob feel even more "special" than he already is. :)

Vader is down!

I'd like to start by apologizing for the lengthy post that is coming. There are far too many details and none can be excluded from the story. So here we go...

I'll start with a little background on "Vader". According to Bob's school counselor, Bob has the grand idea that he is going to dress as Darth Vader for senior prom and his graduation ceremony. My husband and I were not aware of this plan. Bob has more than likely kept it from us because he knows what our reaction would be. Therefore Bob now has the nickname of "Vader" which the school counselor and other staff members use when referencing him. Fantastic.

So a couple of weeks ago I get a call from the school saying Bob was badly injured in P.E. and the school nurse thought he had broken his arm. She told me I needed to come pick him up right away and take him to the emergency room. Luckily the hubby was here that day so he ventured off to the school to retrieve his son.

When the hubby arrived at the school, he met up with Dr. Marvin and went to the nurses office. Dr. Marvin asked the nurses if Bob was ready to go and one of them replied "yes, we're just waiting for his father to get here." What makes this funny is that the hubby was standing right there, in plain sight. I still think the hubby should have requested a DNA test back in the day, but what do you do? There is no physical or mental comparison between Bob and his dad. After they left I guess the nurses were asking if that really was Bob's biological father. Priceless.

They headed straight to the hospital. I'm so glad I was able to stay home and have the following conversations with some of the faculty of the school.

First I spoke to the school nurse to see if there was any explanation of what happened in P.E. that day. I was told that the class was playing soccer and for whatever reason Bob decided to try and stop the ball with his hand (no, he was not goalie). He ended up falling and landing on his arm.

Lesson #1: Teach Bob to play soccer with feet....not hands.

My husband called from the hospital saying Bob did in fact break his arm. They had him pumped full of morphine and were going to try and set the bones. Both bones above the wrist were snapped completely through.

Lesson #2: Bob on morphine = Bob speaking Spanish.

Apparently once Bob had some good drugs flowing through his veins, he felt as though he needed to speak Spanish. I'd like to add here that Bob did not do well in his Spanish class last year. I can only imagine how entertaining and irritating this was.

The next day I gave Dr. Marvin (Bob's counselor) a call to see if there was any more information on how this happened. I certainly wasn't looking for someone to blame, we know that Bob is very uncoordinated and doesn't really pay attention to anything. Bob changed his story about three times when trying to remember what happened, so I figured I'd ask someone else. It was about this time that my conversation with Dr. Marvin went from good to great. He didn't really know any of the details, but informed me of how he was made aware of Bob's accident. Dr. Marvin was on the phone when his secretary came by his office. She indicated she needed to tell him something, and she proceeded to say "Vader is down! Vader is down!" Until that moment I had no idea they referred to Bob as "Vader" but I about lost it. I was laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe.

After spending all afternoon at the hospital, Bob and the hubby came home and indicated Bob would need pins put in his arm to help set the bones. Great, just great. Sad to say but I was actually a little bit irritated by this. The last thing I wanted was Bob lurking around the house all day. Have I mentioned how much I love public education? (Just a side note there). I really do cherish my 6 hours of Bob-free time during the week.

The following day we got a call from the substitute teacher that was in the P.E. class the day Bob had his accident. He spoke to the hubby briefly, just checking in and seeing how Bob was doing. I thought to myself, 'wow, that sure was nice that the teacher cared enough to call.' Then it hit me. More than likely he was doing damage control seeing as how we live in such a sue-happy world. The school had no need to worry about us pursuing damages. We know the kind of kid we're dealing with here. He can barely walk in a straight line and chew gum at the same time. There is always some sort of "distraction" that causes him to fall or walk into something.

When the hubby got off the phone, he indicated how nice the teacher was and told me his name. "Um...what?!?" was my reply. He had to say it again just so I could be sure. Surely there couldn't be two of these men walking around our town with the same name. I knew exactly who he was....and I debated on whether or not to call him back and say hi. I knew this man very well when I was in high school...he was my basketball coach and I was friends with one of his kids. I swallowed my pride and got his number off the caller ID. He was slightly confused as to why I was calling him and how in the world I got his number. I explained that he just talked to my husband about my step-son Matt. PURE SILENCE! I don't think he knew what to say. He laughed and said "are you serious? I would have never connected the dots on that one!" I have never in my life been complimented so highly. Ha ha ha. I hang onto those words every time I'm having a bad day....just knowing that it's obvious Bob isn't my biological son. The teacher and I shared some good laughs and he shed a little light on how the accident happened. The story is as follows:

The class that day was playing soccer. Bob spent the first half of class coming up with excuses as to why he couldn't participate. "I'm thirsty"..."I'm too tired to play"...etc. The teacher kept trying to encourage Bob. He'd say things like "your team needs you"...."come on Bob, get out there and play, they could use your help!" I guess the teacher finally got through to him and even got him excited about playing. That is when it happened. Bob took his first steps onto the playing floor and dove for the ball. No one is quite sure (including Bob) why he dove for the ball. He dove, fell and landed on his arm.

It was nice to be able to catch up with this teacher and we shared some good laughs about the incident. Good gracious what a small world.

So there is the story of the infamous arm break. More to follow....

Um....we have clippers for that

I'm not really sure I even want to write this, but it has to be done. The other night I knocked and quickly entered Bob's bedroom to let him know it was time for lights out. What I saw was the one of the most horrific things ever. It certainly could have been worse, but it was bad. There was Bob perched on his bed with his toes in his mouth. I asked him what in the world he was doing. He just looked at me with that crazy, glassy-eyed, 20 foot stare in a 10 foot room and said "Huh? Oh, my toenails are pretty long, gotta take care of that". Are you kidding me?? I didn't know whether to puke or smack him in the head. I let him know that we are the proud of owners of not only one, but several fingernail/toenail clippers and asked him to please use them next time. Two and a half years until graduation (hopefully). I can do this.....I can do this.

Lead Kindly Light

We have the best neighbors ever. It just so happens that we attend the same church as them. Since the day we moved in they have been so kind and friendly. We are truly lucky. They happen to have a son that is a couple of years older than Bob. When Bob moved here he was a freshman in high school and the neighbor's son was a senior. The son was undoubtedly very popular and had a lot of friends. This made me nervous because Bob tends to latch onto people quickly and I have never wanted to have "that kid" that people have to tolerate. The son was always so nice and willing to help Bob get acclimated to the school. He even let Bob sit with them at lunch. We are truly grateful for this...we know it made Bob's transition to the school a little easier.

Once Bob feels he has a friend in place he will ultimately take advantage of that friendship. I don't feel it's intentional on his behalf, but still. One instance that made me want to crawl under a rock happened a few months before school was out. Since we and our neighbors attend the same church, Bob and their son would be at activity nights at the same time. Bob would always ride his bike over to the church while the son would drive. On one particular night the activity ran a little long and it became dark outside. Bob, having nerves of steel apparently, asked the neighbor's son to follow him home while he road his bike. The reason? Because there are a lot of cracks in the sidewalks. The headlights would help lead the way. Are you kidding me?? We don't live in Mayberry. There ARE street lights along the roads. Good grief. The visual in my head still makes me shudder. A tall, lanky, uncoordinated kid on his bike....riding SLOW....and the poor guy in the car following the kid on the bike, cursing under his breath and giving Bob the finger. Just goes to show how truly great our neighbors are. I'm sure their son could not move away to college fast enough! Hopefully there are no Bob's waiting in the wings for him there.

What's that smell??

A couple of summers ago the egg donor was actually willing to drop Bob off for his visit with us. It just so happened that she and her parents were attending a family reunion near where we live, so she agreed to drop Bob off on their way passing through. She always makes it a point to shove her way into our home, I'm sure just to peek around and feel sorry for herself that we live in a nicer place than she does. That summer was no different. When they pulled up she followed Bob right in and proceeded to drop all his stuff in the entryway of our home. She failed to tell us about the little "surprise" she just happened to shove under a shelf near the floor. The shelf is there for shoes...so they aren't thrown all over the place. It isn't meant to be a hiding place.

I mentioned in my very first post having to wear rubber gloves when doing Bob's laundry. This is because Bob has a problem wiping. What he fails to wipe off his rear ends up in his underwear. I'm not talking about a random skid mark...I'm talking pretty darn close to a whole turd. Bob also had a very bad habit of holding his bowel movements so long that he would lose control and it would just come out....which brings me to the "surprise". Apparently Bob had an accident while traveling in the car that day. I'm assuming the family pulled over because the smell was unbearable. However, what I would like to know is why on earth they would feel the need to keep the soiled underwear and travel with them the rest of the way?!? If it was my kid...those underwear would have been stinking up the closest rest area bathroom. The egg donor, having less than an adequate amount of common sense chose to put them in a plastic bag, which then ended up under our shoe shelf.

For the next couple of days I would walk into my home and get a whiff of turds. I could not for the life of me figure out where it was coming from!! I looked high and low, checked all the shoes to see if the kids had walked through a land mine. One thing I pride myself on is having a nice smelling home. I don't want people to walk in and pass out because of the stench, yet every time I walked into my own home, I wanted to throw up. Eventually we found the small plastic bag, shoved back behind MY shoes. That bag immediately went into the garbage outside. There was no way anyone could make me touch those. It still baffles me to this day that she would be so inconsiderate and try to hide them. Was it to salvage her embarrassment, or a deliberate attempt to "teach us a lesson"? I guess I'll never know.

What are you doing here?!?

This story is a little out of chronological order...it goes back to the summer before Bob came to live with us. My husband had made arrangements with the egg donor to pick up Bob for his visitation. Bob used to live about 7 hours from us, so it wasn't a real quick trip by any means. My husband and I loaded our two youngest children into the minivan and hit the road about 2am. It was just easier to drive all night while the kids slept. We had arranged with the egg donor prior to leaving what time and where we would be picking Bob up. For whatever reason the egg donor did not want us to see her home and told us we could make the pick up at her parent's house. Ok, fine with us. We arrived at the parent's house at the designated time. We were a little bit early, but not too bad. No one was there. Not to be outsmarted by the egg donor (she is NEVER on time) I had printed the directions from the parent's house to her house prior to leaving on our road trip (thank you mapquest). So after waiting about 20 minutes we decided to drive to the secretive home of the egg donor. My husband went to the door and knocked...and knocked...and knocked some more. Bob finally shows up to the door, obviously having just rolled out of bed. (see, I told you she's never on time). I'm sorry, but with two small children and a very long road trip, time is of the essence. The egg donor comes out the door, yells at Bob to get back in the house and proceeds to yell so loudly...the neighbor's started appearing. She screamed "what are you doing at my house?!?" "you are NOT supposed to be here!" My husband said something to the effect of 'you need to be mentally evaluated...you are unstable at best!' My husband walked away from her and came towards me and the kids who were waiting in the car. I love a good confrontation, but only if I know I'm in the right. This was no contest! She's following close behind the hubby and I stepped up to take over. I was calm and much quieter than her. I told her that we had been waiting at her parent's house for 20 minutes and figured we would save her a trip over there by just coming here to pick Bob up. She kept on screaming that we had no right to be there. Bob was standing in the front window....devastated. It was heartbreaking!! My 3 year old son BADLY needed to use the bathroom and I knew there was no getting inside the house, so I let him spray her driveway. Serves her right.

She stormed back into her house and we could hear her yelling at Bob to get his stuff. We pulled the van out of her driveway and parked on the street directly in front of her house. About 10 minutes later she and Bob reappeared. As they walked out the front door I heard her say to Bob "don't you say one word to them, don't you even look at them!" Nothing like letting your true colors show and allowing your son to see what a beast you are! I about lost it when I noticed her loading Bob's items into the trunk of HER car. She was surely going to 'teach us a lesson' and make us drive back to her parent's house. I rode her bumper the whole way....the hubby and I laughing hysterically and watching her fume via her rear view mirror. Oh it was great entertainment...I'm only sorry Bob had to witness it.

When we arrived at her parent's house, we noticed a vehicle parked in the driveway...one we hadn't seen before. No biggie, just give us Bob and let us be on our way. The egg donor approaches our vehicle with a paper in hand. Lovely...what does she want now? It was a stupid "contract" she typed up...that consisted of ONE line. Yes, one line. It said something to the affect that 'I (insert hubby's name) will return Bob on (date)'. What? No consequence if we DON'T return him? Give me a break. I've watched way too much People's Court sister....this was a joke! So the hubby signed the stupid paper so we could just get back on the road. The egg donor then said "I have witnesses that saw you sign that paper." Ahh...we now know why there was a mysterious vehicle in the driveway. Bravo Egg Donor! Bravo! What a waste of time for everyone. We couldn't help but chuckle. In fact we HAD to laugh about it....it was just so stupid.

The dreaded day of court...

I wish I could forget how I felt the morning of court day. It was a strange mix of excitement along with the desire to throw up. We just happened to arrive at the court house the same time as the egg donor. Of course she gave us the evil eye and Bob was following close behind her. He said hello and came over to give us a hug. It had been a few weeks since we had seen Bob and his excitement was so genuine. As I moved in for my hug, I caught a whiff of the worst body odor EVER. He also looked like he just rolled out of bed. Hair was a mess, wrinkled clothes and stinky....I mean REALLY stinky. I have to be honest and say I am not the fashion patrol for Bob every day...there are plenty of days that I just shake my head and suggest he put on something different (which he never does), and let him know combing his hair and brushing his teeth isn't a crime. I understand that being stinky is part of being a teenager, but for heaven sakes...this was court. I mean, it is very rare to catch me wearing something other than capris and a t-shirt. My hair is always in a ponytail and make-up...well, that just doesn't happen, but I knew to step it up a few notches for court. The egg donor couldn't have put out some kind of effort to make sure her son was at least presentable? This was going to be a good day. Hubby was ahead with an early score: Hubby - 1 Egg Donor - 0.

So we move into the court house to locate our attorney. We introduced him to Bob. Our attorney had the same puzzled yet satisfied expression on his face as he looked Bob over. The attorney pulled the hubby and I aside to discuss the plan, so Bob went and sat with his grandparents. It was at this time I found out I would be testifying. What? Are you kidding me? I really thought it was a cruel joke at first. I honestly thought I was there to be the supportive wife and show my dedication to my husband and step-son. Boy was I wrong. Our attorney prepped me about what kind of questions he'd be asking, etc. I felt like I wanted to barf. It was time for court to start. I had to sit in the waiting area while the egg donor was testifying. I couldn't help being a nervous wreck. Bob and I sat patiently, chit-chatting. His grandparents sat across from us working crossword puzzles. For the most part it was pretty quiet. Then it was my turn.

I got called into the court room. It took all I had to hold back the vomit. I knew I had to keep my composure and try to act natural. I made my way up to the witness stand (I hope I never have to be on one of those again!). Our attorney asked me some pretty routine questions. Of course I was able to answer every one...I knew he wouldn't set me up to fail. Then it was cross-examination time. Boy I felt like I was on an episode of Law & Order. The egg-donor's attorney asked me a few questions...and basically ended up looking like a fool. I can't remember the exact questions but I remember thinking at the time 'did you really just ask that?' 'what does that have to do with anything?'. I guess he just had to ask SOMETHING...even if they were dumb questions. My turn was over...thank goodness! Next it was the hubby's turn. His wasn't nearly as pleasant as mine...they grilled him hard. I felt so bad for him. The egg-donor's attorney totally tried to make him into a dead-beat dad. I was furious! If they could only see this man in action with his kids...how much he loves them. The hubby did great...even though he had a few curve balls thrown at him. I was a very proud wife.

The final witness for the hearing was Bob's grandfather. Now I have to give this man credit. He is probably one of the most sincere, gentle and humble men I've ever met. I haven't had too many opportunities to visit with him, but let's just say we all know who wears the pants in his family...and it's not him. I almost felt bad for him being called to the witness stand. I could tell he had no idea this was coming and had no idea what to expect. I think the egg-donor's attorney decided on it last minute...as a last stitch effort to try and get the judge on her side. The egg-donor's attorney focused a lot on the grandfather's relationship with Bob. How much time they spend together, etc. The final question asked was "if Bob lived with his father, would it change the relationship you have with Bob now?" I know the attorney was fully expecting this quiet man to break down, shed tears over losing a close relationship with his grandson, and convince the court that his world would end if Bob moved away. Instead, the answer was "no, I don't think it would impact the relationship much." Whoa! Did that just happen?? You could darn near see the steam blowing from the egg-donor's ears. Her attorney was completely appalled and walked back to the table with his tail between his legs. Beautiful. Just beautiful. Hubby -2 Egg Donor - 0. I sometimes wonder if the grandfather did that intentionally, knowing Bob would be better off with his dad, or if he was just so nervous...and it just came out that way.

The interrogating was done, there was nothing more we could do. The judge took a short recess and then came back with his decision. We all sat nervously waiting for the verdict. Bob was outside the courtroom looking through a small window in the door. He could see me, but no one else in the courtroom could see him. As the judge announced his decision, that Bob would come live with us, I nodded my head yes to him....indicating we had won. He started jumping up and down with excitement. A rush of relief came over me. We now had the opportunity to help save this young man....to give him a better life and home. If only I knew at that time what I was truly in for...

Research for court

Spring of 2008 is when my husband decided to go balls to the wall and fight for custody of Bob. He would have done it several years ago, but unfortunately a court will not take away a child from their mother based on stupidity alone. There has to be concrete proof of abuse and/or neglect for the court to even consider removing a child from their home, and even then there is no guarantee. There is however, a magic number that gave us a little more hope and ammunition to start with the court proceedings. That number is 14. The lovely number 14 is the age in which a judge will take into account the testimony and desire of the child. (Of course we would never let on that although Bob was now physically 14, we'd be lucky to pass him off mentally as a 10 year old.)

Despite the desperate attempts of the egg donor to convince Bob that his father is a monster and that we would make him into our own personal slave if he lived with us, Bob still wanted to make the move. She tried to convince him that he would never have any fun and that he would be our live-in babysitter. It was so hard to hold my tongue and not tell her that I would NEVER, I mean NEVER allow Bob to babysit my children. I'm pretty sure my six year old would be more competent and able to babysit.

We started off nice by trying to talk to the egg donor (which lets face it is the equivalent of talking to a rock). We let her know of Bob's desires to live with his father and tried to convince her that this would save a lot of time and money for everyone if we could work out an arrangement. My husband was even willing to give it a try for one year and told the egg donor that she would not have to pay child support for that year. (Yeah, I wasn't real thrilled about that idea at all! Another kid to take care of and no money? Nice. But being the supportive wife I am, I let it go...I knew it was in Bob's best interest to live with us.) Of course the egg donor wouldn't comply or even entertain the idea of Bob living with us. We were in for a long battle....a long EXPENSIVE battle. *sigh*

Once we knew where the egg donor stood, we began digging. Digging for anything and everything that would help prove our case in court. It was heartbreaking to see file after file of counseling and medical records come in. The notes from doctors and nurses were sickening at best. The school records and counselors were of so much help as well. At first the school counselor didn't like the idea of a step-mom calling and discussing Bob, but soon warmed up to me and eventually liked me more than the egg donor...ha ha ha, like that was even a competition. :) Oh the egg donor was mad about that! She marched herself right into that school and let them have it. How dare they share information with Bob's father and step-mom?? What an inbred piece of garbage she looked like that day! That just sealed the deal with the school liking my husband and me....and it played into our favor nicely.

After gathering as much information as possible, we tried calling attorney after attorney, each time getting the same response...'well, it's hard to take a child away from a biological mother, unless there's proof of abuse'. Are you kidding? Even when the child himself expresses the desire and necessity of getting away from the egg donor? We felt hopelessness and sadness for Bob. Again we tried reasoning with the egg donor to please let Bob come live with us for one year. After that year we would re-evaluate and see how he felt and what was best for him. Of course her answer was no.

Well, we ended up finding an attorney that was willing to take the case and seemed very hopeful and optimistic that there was a 95% chance we would have Bob living with us. This is what we had been waiting to hear. I was so excited...UNTIL he told us the retainer fee amount. It was triple what all the other attorneys charged. All I could think is, 'oh we better win this....or else Bob will be working during every visitation to pay off the debt!' ha ha ha. Just kidding...kind of. :)

So, with the help and support of some wonderful family members, we retained the attorney. We were in for a crazy, emotional ride...

A little background on the egg donor

The egg donor is a very unique person. Not necessarily unique in a good way. When I first met her, I remember thinking 'wow, this might not be so bad, she seems harmless'. Little did I know that would change once I actually married my husband. You see, I was not a threat to her because her ex and I were just dating. I remember being creeped out as she insisted on taking pictures of me with her son. It was bizarre and uncomfortable, but I figured it could be worse. At least she seemed to like me.....or so I thought. I realize now that these pictures were probably taken to show her family and friends the "other woman".

I assure you though that I was not the "other woman". In fact, I believe I was probably learning to drive about the time she and my husband were getting divorced (wow, that's kind of a sick thought). So in my head there was no reason to hate me. I wasn't the cause of their split and had no intention of trying to replace her as a mother to Bob. She still hated me. Why? I have no idea, but I'm not losing any sleep over it.

The egg donor, in my opinion, is still not over my husband. Hello? It's been approximately 14 years since the divorce. Time to move on sweetheart. I mean, my husband is a great guy and I love him dearly, but is he worth shedding tears over for that long? I think not. No man is worth that kind of time or emotion. I find it pathetic yet entertaining to hear her get so worked up and emotional about the divorce. She constantly uses it as an excuse for her being retarded and for the way Bob has turned out. Of course it couldn't be her fault! After all, Bob has lived primarily with her for most of his childhood. She has been a major influence on him and he's had to hear her rip apart his father too many times to count. I know in her mind she has been "victorious" for years. Keeping Bob from his father and feeling she had the upper hand. Well it has certainly come back to bite her in the behind. Did she not think that Bob would one day be old enough to pass judgement and make decisions for himself? That all the lies and hurtful stories she's told him over the years would come unraveled once he was mature enough to fill in the blanks and see her true colors? Well that is exactly what has happened.

We really do hope that she will one day pull her head out of her rear and snap back into reality. What a waste of 14 years! What a toll it has taken on a relationship between a mother and son. How sad that she is willing to sacrifice the feelings and emotions of her son for her own gratification. Thus being labeled the egg donor.

No one ever told me...

From the time I was a little girl, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. To me that was the most important thing in life. When I met my husband, he obviously told me about about his son. When I met his son for the first time, I was actually quite fond of Bob. He was a cute, quirky little boy who conveniently lived with his mother. I enjoyed getting to know Bob during my husband's visitations. I was optimistic that my love of children would help me love this boy unconditionally if his dad and I ended up getting married. We did indeed end up getting married and this once cute and quirky little boy has grown into an obnoxious, smelly teenager....who now lives with us.

No one ever told me...

*that I would one day be struggling to love my step-son as much as I love my biological children

*that I would feel the need to explain to acquaintances that this is "not my DNA"

*that I would have to wear latex gloves while doing laundry, simply to avoid an accidental grabbing of skid-marked underwear (I'm talking BAD skid-marks)

*that occasionally I would have to ask my husband "what were you thinking?!?" (referring to having a relationship with the egg donor)

*that every day I would have to pray for extra patience, sanity and the ability to laugh

*that I would eventually create an anonymous blog to vent, laugh and try to keep it together

Here we go....

I'd like to start by saying I love my step-son. Do I always like him? Well, since this blog is being created in anonymity as a place to vent, laugh and be completely honest, my answer would have to be no. Please know that none of the stories, comments or frustrations are meant to be taken literally. This is going to be a very therapeutic escape for me from the daily tasks of motherhood. I love to laugh. There are times that laughing is the only way I make it through the day. So here we go....and hopefully there will be lots of laughter.