There are lots of moments in life that we hold close and hope to never forget, conversely, there are many we wish we could scoop out of our minds with a spoon. To forget forever. I feel as if most of my favourite memories are a mix of both. I'd love to forget how I sounded like a dying pig as my daughter’s giant head was pushed out of my body through a much smaller hole. The hours and hours of pain. The head hovering above mine with a bland look repeating "almost done" like he was running that marathon with me, not understanding what was so hard about it. How I screamed "GET IT THE FUCK OUT OF ME" at the doctor like 'it' was some alien and not a precious gift. But, alas, she was a precious gift. which is why even though this memory has a lot of bad, it's all overshadowed by the utter joy of holding her for the first time. Gazing down and realising, this is where my story starts. Our story. Nothing in my life before matters more.
"MUUUUUUUMMMYYY"
Staying still, I open one eye and hope the satanic creature I love so dearly (aka Willow) will have magically produced coffee. No such luck. Maybe tomorrow. A girl can hope right? She's 5, but I'd like to think she's closer to 7 mentally. 7-year-olds can make coffee, right? Right?
"I know you're awake" she sighs, like I'm the child.
"Is there coffee?" I mumble. "No? Then I'm not awake. The coffee is asleep so I'm asleep". Ha! Frozen. Wow I cannot remember the last time I watched anything above PG.
"Dad Skyped this morning. He said the baby is sick and he doesn't want me to catch it."
Fuck. It. All. To. Hell. I silently scream. Baby is sick my ass.
"Oh Lo, that sucks. But that just means we can have a girl weekend." I say, getting up and shimmying over to her, coffee need momentarily forgotten in favour of comforting my spawn. "Scarlett and Cleo can come." I sing song, mentally changing our plans from "fuck it all margarita's" to something more kid friendly.
"Really?" She screams, getting more excited.
"Really. Why don't you get ready for kinder and let me handle the plans for tonight? Quick, quick go."
I wait until she leaves before diving for my phone on the bedside table.
Ok, breathe. Nice message. Keep your cool.
You ass eating wank!
Nope, delete.
I close that and open a message to my friend Scarlett instead. I'll vent it out and then type a calm and composed message to the ass eating wank.
Thanks to her working at home, same as me, her reply is fast.
That ass eating, dick sucking wank! Again? I'll tell mum Cleo isn't staying over at hers, girls night?
And that basically sums up why she is my best friend.
Willow’s dad is a bad memory I'd like to scoop out of my brain. The only good thing he ever gave me was her. You know how they say love is blind? Yeah, I don't think they are talking about someone's looks. Though to be honest I shudder at the sight of his face. Nope, they really mean you're blind to all the red flags thrown at you throughout the duration of that so-called love. Most of the red flags go right over your head and it's not until you're at the bottom of your 3rd bottle of wine, wondering how the hell you became a single parent at 22 that you look back and actually see them. The rest, the ones that are so in your face, flapping around in all their red glory, you make excuses for. You go to order take out on his phone because yours is dead and there is now a passcode? Well his phone is in his locker all day while he works. Safety first. He says he is going to a friend's around the corner after dinner. Just for an hour. One drink. Then it's 3am and you're up with a screaming 6 month old.. must of just lost track of the time. Isn't answering his phone? Probably just ran out of charge. "It's ok." You tell yourself. "He works hard, just needs to blow off some steam with the guys."
If by "the guys" you're thinking "The 20-year-old at his work with no baby-making stretch marks and still perky boobs" then you'd be correct. But love is blind right?
I hate that saying almost as much as I hate "it's always the last place you look." Well duh, I'm not going to keep looking after I've found it. I hate it because it takes the blame from where it belongs. Love is blind? No, I was. I was blind and I was stupid. Now I've saddled my child with a useless father who bails on her more times than not. But worse than hating him and our time together, is that I can't really hate it at all. I can't say that I'd change a thing. If I could go back, I'd make all the same dumb decisions and take all the pain. I'd keep the stretch marks, trade in my size 6 body for this floppy size 10 and I'd do it all with a smile. It may have left me single and cynical, but it also left me her. And she is worth it all and more.
Willow mentioned Davie was sick. Hope she feels better soon. Were you planning to swap and have Lo next weekend? Let me know so I can adjust our plans. Thanks.
There. Venting helps. Scar always asks how on earth I put up with his crap. It's simple. I vent to her until it's all out. Then I take a deep breath, and just give up. Rinse and repeat for every pain in the ass thing he has done. Is it mentally healthy? Probably not. But raging at him never helps a damn thing. He will never change and in the end the only one who feels bad about the exchange is me.
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Dare to fall
RomantizmComplete. Not edited. 15,500 words. (Warning. Mature content. First time I have written anything, so be brutal! Much love and thanks for reading. Comment if I should keep going!) Can single Mum, Blakely, navigate her way through the snakes of Tind...