I had the worst possible experience this past Sunday when I attempted to show my son that his father is a worthwhile human being by going to Sonny Acres to pick out pumpkins together. What should have been a reasonably (you’re lying through your teeth, Becky, you were dreading this from the moment it was planned) fun time quickly turned into a nightmare.
The Ex, being pissed that I didn’t want to carve pumpkins that day, decided that NO ONE needed pumpkins so we had to leave. Sonny Acres isn’t exactly my thing anyway, so I didn’t protest too much. Besides, I figured Dave and I were taking Ben this Saturday with his future wife, Rose. We’d get some pumpkins then.
Now, to those who know me well, I do whatever I possibly can to get as much stuff as I can when I go out with Nat. Childish, perhaps, but it makes my ickle heart sing as I consider it payback for years of being so goddamn cheap.
So we go to catch lunch together at Olive Garden, per Ben’s request. Lunch quickly becomes a Jerry Springer episode when Nat calls me “the most selfish person in the world,” berates me for being unstable and screams that I’m “ruining my son’s life.”All this, right in front of our son.
Because THAT isn’t gonna fuck up a kid or something. He doesn’t care though, because it’s more important to Nat to be right and to cut me down than it is to take into account the eyeballs of his son watching his every move.
Although the food has just arrived, I made a tactical call. I stood up, kissed Ben goodbye and turned to leave. Nat pulls on my arms to get me to stay and I begin to cry. I quickly said goodbye to my son and walk out of the restaurant sobbing like a little bitch.
After bawling in front of the restaurant like a crazy person I decide that since Ben is upset and I am his mother, I need to go back inside and comfort him. When I went back inside and found Ben hysterical I informed Nat that I was taking my son home, where he belonged.
We paid the bill and EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE PLACE IS STARING AT US which makes me feel like an even bigger freak than I know I am. Awesome.
I strapped Ben into my car, safely out of earshot and gave Nat a piece of my mind, while he stood there, silently reproachful and apologetic. The anger drained out of him and into me and I drove away angry and sad.
I haven’t spoken to him since.
Tonight my dad called to me from the porch show me the freak show. My porch is the proud recipient of two brand new pumpkins.
This isn’t the first blog post I’ve ever written. Actually, it’s probably closer to the 1,00oth, but since I have a habit of checking the first post anyone’s written to see what the first thing they had to say was, I figured that maybe someone else was, too.
So this is it. My first inaugural post here on Mommy Wants Vodka. Backdated here to where it all began, in 2004.
In 2004, I had just met The Daver, who was still my boyfriend and we were juuuust on the cusp of getting engaged which is really a story I should tell you sometime. Not because it’s a very good one, but because it’s worth telling.
I had a son, Ben, who was three and no other children, but I had, as you’ll see by my second post here, a very turbulent relationship with my ex.
It’s strange to look back and see how far I’ve come and where I was and I can only imagine where I’m going.
So hello world, Mommy Wants Vodka. Because Mommy Wants Vicodin sounded too suburban.
Welcome. I hope you’ll stick around.