I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

I have the baby!

Yesterday, I went to the court house to finish up on the eviction of my daughter. It was sad. I feel like I am the worst mother in the world, yet, she has let the electric get turned off, the water, and the gas. The refrigerator, by the way new, is filled with meat and perishables that are perishing and need to be cleaned out, before they really ruin the new refrigerator. So, she has three more days and I can go in and start the clean up. As I was leaving my little town, I decided to take a gift to my seven-year-old grandson. After I leave him playing with the new toy at his other grandparent’s, I get a call from my Good Son. He says, she called, I say, what did she want, he says, for me to come get the baby, I say, did you tell her you can’t drive, he says, yep, I say, call her back and tell her I am near and will get him. I head toward the city where she is supposed to meet my son. He calls me back, mom, he says, she says that she don’t want you coming. I say, okay, call her and tell her fine, then she will either have to drive him to our house, or find another sitter. It terrified me that she would say okay fine, you won’t get to see him. But, she calls him back and says, okay, tell her she has fifteen minutes to meet me at McDonald’s or I’m leaving him and taking him to Really Drug Addicted Friend Of Hers. I tell my son to tell her that it will take me at least 30 minutes and again I say to tell her to forget it. Then she calls me, the first time that we have actually spoken since her arrest for assaults and theft. She says, where are you? I tell her, she says, how long before you get here, I tell her, she says hurry the fuck up and hangs up. I take my time. When I finally get there, she has the baby’s bag sitting on top of the car, and he is in the car looking around and she is standing at the back of the car smoking. She looks rough, like she has not slept in a week, her face is shallow and I know that she is going to her friends who makes the drugs. I tell her she needs to eat and I had some chicken strips that I bought for the baby and gave them to her. I asked her if she had gas and she said no, that she thought she had enough to get to drug maker’s house, and I give her five dollars. We watch the baby open his gift. He squeals with delight. He kept trying to hug my arm and kiss me. I see his rash is really bad, she says it just came up, I look at his ankles and there are scabs on them. His face is bruised and she says he fell again. I ask her is she hitting him and she says no. I cry. I leave her standing in the parking lot and I contemplate taking him to the ER and know if I do that, I might have to wait another six or so weeks before she lets me see him. I get him home and take pictures of his legs, and arms, and back, where his rash is beyond a rash but more little popped blisters and sores. I take a picture of his face and the bruise, which looks like he fell off of the bed. We go out to eat and he throws his food on the floor. I remind him not to do that, and he stops. All the clothes she sent are dirty and his pants that he has on are also dirty. The box of diapers that I bought last Sunday, well she didn’t send but a few, so I had to buy diapers and wipies, I don’t mind. Last night while he slept, I sat on the bed and stroked his hair. I have him for two days, two days to love him and give him lots of attention. I don’t think she would hit him, but she sure is neglecting him. I am just happy that I am getting to see him. If it is nice, I will take him to the rock castle. Just a few more weeks, maybe three and we go to court and she will, hopefully, go to prison, and I will get my grandson, and then I will have peace of mind, or at least peace of mind as far as the baby and the seven-year-old are concerned.


Blogger delagar said...

Crap. This breaks my heart. Can't you just keep him?

6:36 AM  
Blogger Mouse said...

yeah, can't you?

Its makes me sad cause I remember her being good to her kids. I remember, once upon a time. :(

12:29 PM  

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