My Son Stole from Your Son-Penning Frustration

Last week, while my mouth was still healing, my son went with a friend to the local pool. I was hesitant to let him go at first but his friend’s father insisted that everything would be ok. When my 8-year-old son returned he had a bag full of stuff that he was handing out to our family-gifts he had gotten us. After questioning him, OK it was more like an interrogation, my husband called the other kid’s father and asked him about the money and spending. All the while I knew my son wasn’t being completely honest but my husband took our dear 8 year old’s words as gospel.

My husband comes into the house looking rather pale. I asked him what happened. Basically, my husband accused the other kid’s father of losing his anger over a misunderstanding between two boys. After talking to our son again, the truth came out. Our son found the money and the opportunity to take it without asking. I was infuriated. I had a little money stashed away for a book purchase and told my husband to take the money and our son over there. He will apologize and so would my husband, promptly pay back the stolen amount PLUS the cost to take our son to the pool, and for lunch. Why pay the extra back for taking our son to the pool? Simple, the raging father made a point to say that out of the kindness of his heart he paid for my son. Umm…no my dear. Now, we owe you that money back as well. My husband argued with me saying this father needed time to cool off. Unacceptable. I hate unresolved issues like this and our son needed to learn a lesson…and so did my husband.

When the boys got back I laid down the law. Right and freaking proper. Obviously, my son was grounded, but he also lost riding his new bike around the block, XBOX, tablet, cartoons, playing basketball, going to the park, and his big fancy birthday party. Harsh but he will still have a party…I’m not sure about having friends with. My son is now reading when bored, writing, drawing, studying out of workbook according to his age, and painting. Painting is a privilege for him and I had to take that time away from him already for a couple of days. He’s cleaned his room and is getting back to using his manners. My husband is thrilled but deep down something isn’t settling right.

After hearing how this father talked about my son for stealing made me nervous then downright pissed off. I DO NOT CONDONE WHAT MY SON DID…let me make that clear. I feel like the biggest failure as a mother. I even talked to my therapist about the situation (I was that upset) and he said that it’s ok, kids see opportunities like this, take it, and learn from it. What I’m not OK with is what he told my husband, ‘I spank him. Sometimes I even worry that someone will call children services on me.’ Was he implying that I should spank my son? Or that he was the better parent because he spanked his son? Would he spank my son? The father told my husband to keep the extra money that he spent on the boys to go to the pool…and this is when I found courage. I told my husband that there is no way that our son could go over there again. I understand people and read them very well. I will not have my son judged, questioned, and stalked while playing. It was wrong what he did…and he is being punished. Now it’s time for me to say my piece to this individual.

I made a visit to this person’s house. I knocked on the door with sweaty palms and shakiness in my knees. When he opened the door towering over me I wanted to flee. Then, I thought about my son having to face this man. I shoved the extra money in his hand and before he could hand it back I stepped back.
‘I said it was my treat. It’s ok. The boys can play together but just not for a while.’ he told me. I smiled but not a gracious smile.
‘No. If it was a treat you wouldn’t have made it sound like a debt to be owed. My son is 8. 8! He saw an opportunity and took it. Believe me, he is being punished more than you realize. The birthday invitation that was delivered last week. LOSE IT! Make up an excuse to your son as to why he can’t go because the truth will hurt him.’ The look on this guys face changed. I continued, ‘Our boys will not be playing together anymore. PERIOD! If they run into each other at school that’s fine but they will not be spending ANY extra time together and my son will NEVER step foot on your property. It’s not what he has done but your reaction to the situation. To an 8-year old’s mistake. Do you want to tell your son that he can’t play with mine because your judgmental and could possibly lose your anger around my son?’
He interrupted, ‘Your son is the one that stole from me! Why is my son not allowed at your house.’ I drew in a breath, calming down.
‘Your son is not any better than my mine or mine than yours. They are children. I will not have my son come over to play just to be judged and used as a landing spot for your distrust or worse…you put hands on him. I’m a pretty good judge of character and the look on your face right now tells me you would touch my child. For that, I could make your life hell or worse!’ I stepped in close. All my senses were heightened and I was no longer shakey. ‘I do not rule my house by instilling fear,’ I growled, ‘But believe me, you touch my son and it’s not his father you will worry about. It WILL be me.’ I stepped back. ‘If you can’t answer the questions your son will have about why they can’t play, blame me. I’ll be the bad guy in your son’s eyes. So, the money in your hand is payment of a debt. I trust the matter is closed. My son apologized?’ The father nodded. ‘Was it to your satisfaction?’ he nodded again. I nodded and started to walk away when he said, ‘Take this money and buy a gift for your son for his birthday from my son.’ I turned, ‘No, thank you. His birthday party at the race track has been canceled and he will be lucky to go bowling. I think what is best for my son is a family party. No friends, no judgments, no obligations as I pointed to his hand. Take the money and spend it on your son.’ I walked away feeling proud for sticking up to an adult bully. Yes, my husband had to eat crow and apologize the man for admitting that he was wrong about the situation but I saw the bigger picture for what it was.

My son and I are building a weaving loom tonight and he’s painting right now. I keep him busy and active. Even though he had so much taken away he is spending more time with his dad and myself. He even asked if he could help me with dinner. I didn’t have to put hands on him nor do I have to worry about children services being called. I just hope he has a great birthday even though so much was taken away.

6 Word Story Day 30

It’s no surprise that writers take from their own lives and include that piece of their soul and past into their projects. I am thoroughly in love with the fact that with all of this #6wordsbetter¬†(ok well most of them) have given me a chance to reflect on my past and the emotions that it creates in my present-day life. Yes, it’s hard living with C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression. But I also realized I’m waking up the next day and that is a form of strength. It’s not easy knowing that my reactions to people, sounds, certain sights, etc… is because of him and I still feel the guilt of, “I let it happen for so long” and still not ready to fully disclose what happened. It’s my own fear and I will conquer that fear when I’m ready. I think that’s why I haven’t done my social media for my blog. I have great ideas but I need to make it completely anonymous so he doesn’t see me.

Prompt Word: The Teacher

His assaults unknowingly taught her strength.

January 21st, 2018

I woke up this morning with a purpose and ended up being more thoughtful and organized than I thought I could be. The kids were sleeping, husband snoring in the next room and silence. How precious is silence? For me, it’s worth more than gold. I’m currently sitting here with a cup of coffee (still hot and no interruptions) and my hair still up in a towel (yes I did, I showered and if you have depression, anxiety, C-PTSD, or even just being a mom-that’s a huge accomplishment).

Yesterday was also productive. I cooked, sketched some ideas, wrote, did the grocery shopping, forbade my son to play with a boy that fashioned his own sledge hammer out of metal and wood (yeah that was not fun for everyone involved), and started a new series. But as I was going to shut down my computer I checked the news which I haven’t done since last week sometime. It made me think. All the women that are coming forward with the #metoo and all I can think is how brave they are but some of us silently suffered and still suffering.

We don’t have popularity, we aren’t actresses and singers, we are the ‘nobody’ woman that you passed in the grocery store silently battling something inside. Our voices don’t count but I’m glad that theirs do. They are bringing awareness about sexual assault but it doesn’t just happen in the work place. Unfortunately, it happens by our husbands, family, friends and people we trust. I hope that no one ever has to experience what I did. The humiliation, embarrassment, pain and all the pleading I did with no justice. “I’m sorry ma’am, he’s your husband. You two work this out.” then being waved off as a nuisance. Now here I am, yes away from him, but still trapped in my own cell. C-PTSD sucks. I have a therapist, medications, and STILL trying to figure out how to get my service dog. But no one is around to help with any of that. So yes, #metoo but I don’t want my ex to find out. You’re probably thinking, “WTF?” but the truth is I’m still terrified. I don’t want him to be near me, know what I think, know what I say, or even know what I am wearing. Yes, we have kids together but he refuses to interact with him. Even when I tell my children to call him (feeling of nausea the whole time) they don’t want to because they remember. Something I wish they didn’t.) Those women are strong and have made name for themselves. Then there is me. I’m going to get ready to go to the grocery store then to work, all the while carrying my own secrets heavily inside me.

Here is my thought, “I’m going to have a good day.”


May 18th, 2017

Fidgeting Support

Tuesday¬†was the last day of my husband’s suspension at work. I have learned to let go of the anger that I felt towards the woman who started this whole thing of a free 3 day vacation without pay snitching on him smoking after he was clocked out. I really don’t have the energy to waste on imagining how I will make her pay. We spent the evening with the kids watching the Bye Bye Man. I seen that it got a lot of negative reviews but to each their own. I was fortunate enough to take a film appreciation class as part of my degree and actively watching this movie was awesome.

But earlier that day my husband took his Harley to see a brother that owns a vape shop that has just started selling those fidget spinners. The reason why he purchased one for me is because he read articles that said that they could help people with anxiety. I too seen articles that said it could help but also articles saying they don’t. The fact that he took time out of his day to do research for something that would help me was awesome and it made me feel like it wasn’t alone in this battle that takes place inside my entire body.

I took my new fidget spinner to work and it does help, specially when I’m upset with employees that are working on my last nerve just to see how far they can push me.I took my spinner and gave it a whirl…literally. I focused on my breathing while watching it spin and I found myself calming down. And the feeling of overwhelming doom looming over my shoulder spin away with every pass around the spinner made. I don’t know if there is any true help in these things but it helped me focus and find my center again. So….give them a whirl (another pun) to see if they help ya’ll in any way.

A Dark Time – Breakdown

In my other posts through my Journal entries it seems like my husband and I have a perfect relationship but that’s not entirely true. There are plenty of unpleasant times specially with me having C-PTSD. There is a difference between this and PTSD but I’m not going into to much medical terminology as this is not meant to be a medical blog by no means. It’s for me to express myself through writing (which I’m also in the middle of adding to a story I started and posting in first draft format).

My husband and I had a huge falling out because of my mental breakdown. He just accepted a new position at work that causes long hours during the week and almost every Saturday away. For me, naturally, I thought that he was cheating or seeing someone else because of the lack of intimacy and time together. All of these thoughts in my head combined with him not being around and feeling like he had to walk on egg shells around me (hardly talking included) was the perfect recipe for me to have complete mental breakdown.

The night I told him to leave and he actually did was (I didn’t know at the time) EXACTLY what I needed. I know you’re thinking, ‘she’s nuts! Why would her husband leaving be something that she needed?!’. In my state of mind feeling lost, hopeless, just a nobody, failure, and why should I even be here on this earth, I found clarity through fog. I had a friend that literally talked me off the ledge and gave me the incentive to call the doctor. Of course, here a patient needs a referral to the mental health clinic and my family doctor didn’t have any appointments available. This sent me over the edge but the receptionist asked me to come in ASAP and they would fit me in regardless as it was an emergency. Right away I was asked what was happening. I was fidgeting, crying, BP was through the roof along with my heart rate. I was immediately placed on medication which helped. Over the next week I was feeling better and finally was able to ask my husband if we could talk. Long story short-he came home. I told him it was going to be difficult but I will try as long as he did. This lasted a week. The incident started over something as simple as choosing somewhere to eat for breakfast. I couldn’t decide. I wanted him to make the decision and asked him to choose as we would go anywhere he wanted. He couldn’t decide and that threw me into a panic attack. I calmed down after taking my medication and when we got home I needed to paint.

I had no inspiration or motivation but I needed to do something to take my mind off of feeling like a failure. I wanted something dark but light at the same time. Something that was positive in it’s own way. I put paint to canvas and ended up with a mass of black, white, and grey and decided to find something online. Something that I didn’t have to really think about or stress over and ended up at YouTube. There was a woman, Jane, doing acrylic tutorials and found one that had a girl walking through a raining dark city but light in the direction she was walking. It only took me 30 minutes to complete BUT it was 30 minutes of therapy that I needed. I was able to control my breathing that helped calm me down. It kept my mind in one place focusing on the task at hand. It helped get a brush back in my hand and even work with new tools. Jane’s tutorial helped me accomplish more than just a painting. I encourage you to look through her tutorials and possibly find a new hobby.

Painting and writing has helped me cope with certain things and has helped my husband notice my ticks and triggers to offer advice and comfort. Jane, I’m sure without her knowledge, is helping me in more ways than just painting.

Start a Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: