Too Close to Home

This came up on my calendar today, and the timing of it couldn't have been better.

If you've been following the news (or my page) you know that there was a mass shooting very close to here just a few days ago.

So close that the cops tore past my house so fast that I couldn't even tell what color the cars were.

So close that I raced around town, picking my kids up from various places to make sure that they were home and safe.

So close that we locked our doors - something that we never do - until we knew for a fact that the shooter acted alone and was down.

So close that I couldn't tear myself away from the media coverage, my eyes searching the crowds on TV, trying to spot anyone that I knew to make sure that they were safe.

So close that one of my acquaintances was among the injured, and I recognized the name of one of those killed.

So close that I had no choice but to explain to my kids what had actually happened.

Too close.  Entirely too close.

The day after the shooting, it was revealed that the shooter had been served a PFA (Protection From Abuse order, AKA a restraining order) about 90 minutes before he went on his rampage. His former girlfriend filed it on him, alleging that he had physically abused her on at least one occasion.

As soon as that information was released, the discussion of domestic violence began. And of course it's impossible not to read the comments when articles like that are posted. And of course the discussions and the resulting comments and arguments and victim blaming brought back all sorts of not-so-fun stuff from my past - and it's been eating me alive for days now.

For the most part, I'm over it. Yes, I was a victim of domestic violence. Yes, it was horrible. But my life doesn't revolve around it. It is a part of my past, but it doesn't define me, because I won't allow it to do that. It's not something that I normally talk about on a daily basis - but every now and then, something brings it back to the surface and it eats at me. I think back to all of the reasons why I stayed for so long, and I relive certain moments and I feel the pain and the heartache all over again. And then I look at where I am now and realize that no matter how bleak things appeared to be at the time, I'm in such a good place now. But it's a constant battle in my head - between remembering the horrible times in the past and appreciating the good ones now.

And I know that as a community, we are strong. We are so incredibly strong. The outpouring of support from surrounding areas has been amazing and humbling. Our little rural area of Kansas has been thrust into the national spotlight, and we are shining through the darkness.

At the same time that all of this was happening, probably even within the same 24-hour period, I found out that not only is one of my friends dying from cancer - but so is another one. I knew about the first one. At least I knew that he was sick, but to receive the news that it had progressed so far so fast hit me like a freight train. The second one? I had no clue. I totally missed the posts about her condition until I went looking for her to ask her a question, and found out that she's dying. The freight train backed up and hit me a second time. Once again, I'm standing here questioning everything. Why do these things happen? Why is it always the good guys? Why can't we all just get along and why can't everyone live long and healthy and happy lives? Why does life have to be so damned hard?

It's been a rough few days, to say the least. I've been forcing myself to go out and run even when I didn't want to - because I know if I don't, I'll just sit here and eat everything and be lazy and be miserable and slide down into that hole that I try so hard to avoid. But luckily I have my Sole Sis/Slave Driver who keeps me going. She keeps forcing me to run, but that's what I need right now - because I know that if I don't get out and run, I'll feel like crap from sitting around like a lump. If I do run, I still feel like crap, but it's a good kind of crap (if that makes any sense at all). And the running is getting easier, and I do feel better - and that helps so much with the mental stuff right now.

One day at a time. One foot in front of the other. That's all that any of us can do. Keep going, don't stop, and eventually we'll get through all of the crap.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

#HesstonStrong

Questions and Answers

So every now and then, I get bored lazy inspired and I ask the people on my facebook page to ask me questions, and I'll answer them in the blog. It's a fun way for people to get to know me better and it gives me something to write about when I really can't think of anything interesting.

This is what was asked tonight:

Jennifer asked: If there were only two football teams in the entire world, The Cowboys and The Bears.. Which would you choose?
This one is totally a no-brainer for me. I will always choose whoever is playing against the Cryboys Cowgirls Cowboys. Always. Without a doubt. Well, unless it's Pissburgh Pittsburgh - then I have a really hard time deciding who I hate more, but at that point, I might not complain too much if the Cryboys Cowgirls Cowboys didn't lose.

And yes, I know that The Dude is a diehard fan of that team that I despise - but he has to have a fault. If rooting for the wrong team is the worst one that he has, I'm ok with it. Plus, it gives us something to bicker about from time to time.

Mike asked: I am a stay at home dad and I play dolls with my daughter is it wrong for me to see the cute little dolls naked. Lol
I wouldn't necessarily say that it's wrong, as long as you are not thinking inappropriate thoughts about said dolls. Then you could be considered a freak.

Next!!!

Kristine asked: what chores do your kids do? My two are 9 and almost 11, and I need some ideas!!
You know, this question actually got me to thinking (I hate when that happens). My kids don't really have 'chores'. They have things that I expect them to do, like picking up their toys and keeping their rooms cleaned and basic things like that. But they don't really have a chore list. I just expect them to do what I tell them to do - sometimes that works, and sometimes that doesn't. For instance, I will wash and dry and fold their laundry - but I refuse to put the girls' stuff away. I make them do that, and then when they can't find something, it's their fault and not mine. (I learned that one a long time ago!) Jared and Alex will put their laundry away as well, but I still have to help Daniel because he's too short to reach his top drawers.

It's a little harder for me because the older 3 are only here half of the time - and really less than that now with the sports schedule. So to be completely honest, I try to do as much as I can so that they can focus on family and homework while they're here. As they get older, I do have them do more around the house - when they're here.

Mike asked: I will let my dog or cat play with the naked Barbies on the floor if and only IF they are missing limbs. But if the have all four limbs they get in trouble. Should I let the Barbies become dog toys? I'm afraid dfs is gonna walk in and find a dead Barbie in the dogs mouth.
Oh, Mike, Mike, Mike....first of all, kudos for only allowing the pets to mangle the already-dismembered Barbies. I would hate to think of your kids' reactions should Fluffy get a hold of an intact one. Personally, I despise Barbies so I'm all for allowing them to be chewed up and digested by the 4-legged members of the family, and if any social service agency has a problem with that, then they need to go back and look at their job descriptions again.

Heather asked: What's your favorite thing about Kerry?
Oh boy....how much time do you have? Seriously, there is so much about this guy - but I'll try to keep it short. Probably the best thing about him is that he gets me. I don't know how he does it, but he just knows what makes me tick. He and I were just chatting back and forth on facebook and he said something that made me smile - and I told him that I thought that it was cool "that even after this long, you can send me a message like that, and I sit here with this dumbass smile on my face" - and it's true. No matter what is going on in our lives, he can always make me smile. Our relationship is special in that we don't have to do anything amazing and exciting and exhilarating and whatever in order to enjoy the time that we have together - we are content to hang out with the kids, watch movies, chat on facebook if we're not together, run errands - it doesn't matter what we do, as long as we are together. It sounds cliche, but it's true.

Heather asked: If, given the chance, you had ONE WHOLE WEEK kid free, what would you do?
Oh boy. A week? Really?

I'd probably sleep for the first day. And if I wasn't sleeping, I'd be wandering around the house, eating random junk food and watching movies in my raunchy slept-in clothes and unbrushed teeth - just because I could.

That would only last about a day, because I'd get bored. Then I'd probably start cleaning the house. Like, really cleaning. Tearing stuff apart and organizing because I could do it without being interrupted or without having to stop to feed kids or break up fights or whatever.

And then I would sew. I would pull out all of my unfinished projects, spread them out all over the house to figure out what needed to be done, and then I'd sew and sew and sew until I got them all done.

Of course, spending as much time as possible with The Dude would also be worked in there too. Maybe we could arrange for him to have a week off from work at the same time - and we could win the lottery - and then he and I could go away for a few days, alone. Or skip the lottery part and we could just go pitch the tent out at the lake and hide away from humanity for a few days.

Heather asked: Do you still wear those boots?
(3 questions in a row, Heather? Really?)
Yes. I do.

The story of my boots...... Picture it. Sicily Pennsylvania, December 1993. I was preparing to start my final semester at Penn State, which consisted of my student teaching outside of Philadelphia (Norristown, to be exact). I had gone Christmas/school shopping with my mother, and I needed some new winter boots and a winter coat. Now, we've already established many times throughout this blog that I am not a girly-girl by any stretch of the imagination, so finding winter boots became a challenge. We finally went over to the men's department in some store and I found this pair. Yes, they are men's boots. I don't remember how much we paid for them or anything, but it wasn't an outrageous amount - because you know, men don't have to pay as much for functional boots as women do. Anyway, we bought them and a full length winter coat (that's actually a women's one though) and we left.

I have worn these boots every winter since then - and if my math is right, that means that this winter will be my 19th one with them. I love my big old ugly boots, and when they finally die I will be very sad, and I will never find a pair that is as wonderful as they are.

You can't see it in this picture, but the profile picture on facebook and on the one at the top of the blog itself - if you look at the right boot, there's black goo on them. That is tar from when I wore them to help build a Habitat for Humanity house when I worked in Wichita. I've worn them to do yardwork and to garden. I've trudged through snow and mud and all sorts of crap in them. And they are worn, and they are ugly, but I love them.

And, they are actually what started this blog.

Jennifer came back and asked: What's your favorite scary Halloween movie?
First off, I don't really "do" Halloween. I mean, I take the kids trick or treating and stuff, but I don't really like the "holiday" or "season" or whatever you want to call it.

But, give me a good horror movie any day of the week and I am happy. Seriously. I love a good horror movie. And I am just weird enough that I will sit here alone and watch them late at night. I love them all. Horror, blood and guts, you name it - I'll watch it.

Funny story - right after I moved into this house, I was watching "Pet Sematary" late one night. I had gotten it from Redbox and had forgotten just how scary it was. So I was a little edgy (best part of watching a scary movie) and all of a sudden, the front door of the house blew open with a bang, complete with leaves blowing in and swirling around on the floor. After I peeled myself off of the ceiling, I closed the door, and remembered to deadbolt it against the powerful Kansas wind - apparently I had gone out to smoke earlier that evening and didn't close the door tightly. Oops.

Angela asked: What are your favorite and most disliked parts of blogging?
That's a good one!

My favorite would just be 'doing it'. Whether it's getting something off my mind, keeping track of what the kids and I do on a daily basis, venting about something idiotic, or working through some issue that I didn't really realize that I had, I love being able to just sit here and type it out. I have no idea where I want to go with it - I don't think that I'm the type of person to turn it into a book or anything, but maybe someday I'll get it all printed up and save it for the kids or something. What I put out here is really ME - I don't sugarcoat, I don't make things up, I don't lie - it's totally a snippet of my life. I'm just amazed that people actually read it.

Oh, and the people! I love the people who I have "met" by doing this - both online and in real life. It's an amazing community and I am thrilled to be a part of it.

My most disliked parts....... There have been times when I've taken some pretty harsh criticism of something that I've done or said - and that's never fun. But at the same time, it's what I get for putting myself out there for the world to see so I can't really complain about it too much. There will always be haters and there will always be people who don't approve of what I do - but I'm really ok with that.

Honestly, my least favorite part at this point is Blogger's "new and improved" interface. You readers don't see it, but those of us who use it for our blogs do, and quite frankly, it sucks. It's another example of a company thinking that they need to improve upon something that is perfectly fine to start with - and in the process of "improving" it, they screw it up instead.

Laura asked: Can you keep what happend. On American Horror Story a secret for another hour or so????? I just started it!
Sure, I can do that. Mainly because I have no idea what you're talking about..... LOL

Pam asked: Why did you decide to keep secret what happened a couple weeks ago?
Ah yes, the incident. There are a number of reasons why I won't go into specifics about that one.

I do put a lot of us out there for the world to see. Had I known when I started this blog that so many people were going to read it, I never would have used our names or our pictures - but I did and I can't take it back now. So all I can do is try to protect ourselves from the scariness that is the real world.

I won't use our specific location. I won't use our last names. I do my best to blur out identifying details in pictures that I post. I have filters in place on my facebook page so that comments that contain certain words are automatically hidden. I do what I can to protect myself and my family online.

However, what happened a couple of weeks ago was not something that I could control. I was not able to be the protector in that situation, and to put it bluntly it scared the hell out of me. It was not a "blog thing" - it was a "real world thing". Luckily, everyone is fine. Given the situation, it could have been ugly and horrible and awful. But it wasn't. It's ok.

At the same time, there is a police investigation that is still continuing - and that is a big factor as to why I won't say anything about it just yet. Once I know that everything is resolved and that all of the loose ends are tied, I may divulge some of it - but I might not. I just have to wait and see how it plays out in the end.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So there you have it - the answers to your questions (for tonight). I always tell people - if you have a question for me, just ask. You can comment here or on facebook, or you can send me a message on facebook or an email. I'll answer it - or if it's something that I can't answer, I'll tell you that too.

The day started with wildlife and ended in jail

Hey, guess what? We had a crazy day!

I know that's shocking - but it happens occasionally sometimes all the time.

So....as usual, we were up before dawn in order to get all of the kids to school on time. At least during this time of year, I don't have to drive straight into the rising sun - although I really dislike leaving the house when it's still dark outside.

I do like to have a little bit more light while I'm driving so that I can avoid things like this.

There were actually about 6-7 of them, just taking their time and strolling across the road - but by the time I came to an almost-stop and stuck my camera out the window, I only caught the last 4.

The boys had their parent/teacher conferences this afternoon - and of course there was the obligatory book fair at the same time. We wandered around the book fair to kill some time before we went to the conferences.

Both of the boys are doing great in school. They haven't had any major behavioral issues and their teachers love them. They're both way ahead of where they should be academically, so now it's a matter of keeping them both challenged so that they don't get bored (much like the older 3 kids).

Alex had Scouts again tonight, so we walked down to the meeting. The boys got to go to the local 911 center, sheriff/police department, and explore the jail. They had an absolutely amazing time, and everyone that they met was so wonderful and accommodating. We spent close to 2 hours there, so by the time that we walked back home it was way after their bedtime.

911 Center

Talking about guns...
See the look of fear on Alex's face?!?!?!

Evidence lockers

They wanted to see a big gun!

I have to admit - this was the first time that I was ever in our jail, and I learned a lot about it tonight. It was much bigger than I had thought that it was, and it was much harsher inside than I expected it to be for some reason. Honestly, it was really kind of surreal to walk through it and to see it with my own eyes. I know of several people - including my exhusband - who have spent some time in there, and seeing it for myself really put it into a different perspective for me. I'm really still trying to wrap my head around it.

So tomorrow, I have to get up to get the boys to school (hopefully in time to walk) and then I'm watching a friend's kid for a couple of hours, and then hopefully - if all goes well, the planets align, and nothing goes wrong - I'll get to spend some quality time with The Dude.

Maybe, just maybe, it won't be such a crazy day.

5 years ago...

The story of Daniel's birth is one that I haven't told in great detail for a lot of reasons. But I'm going to tell it now - for those very same reasons.

This is what I looked like on June 9, 2007. Daniel wasn't due until June 19, and I wasn't having any symptoms of going into labor, but we decided to take a picture anyway, and I am so glad that we did!

If you have been following my blog for any length of time, you might remember that Daniel's father was an alcoholic. He battled it for many years, but it didn't work. He continued to drink. And when he drank, he could be very mean and at times was even physically abusive. I had told him numerous times throughout my pregnancy that if he was drunk when I went into labor, I would go to the hospital myself - hoping that the threat would keep him from drinking. But, it didn't work.

That night, he was drunk. He went upstairs to bed and passed out fairly early in the night. I sat up to watch a movie - "Deep Impact" - until it was over around 2:00am on Sunday morning, June 10. During the movie, I started to feel....funky. I had a bizarre pain that kept coming and going every 5 minutes, but it wasn't a contraction so I wasn't too concerned. But, it continued. Finally, at the end of the movie I decided that I would just go ahead and go to the hospital - even if I wasn't in labor, I thought that if he woke up and I was gone, it might make him think twice before he took the next drink.

I got up off of the couch and walked into the kitchen to get the charger for my phone to put in my bag, and then went around the corner to go up the steps to get a receiving blanket. As I lifted my leg to go up the first step, my water broke - and when I say "broke" I really mean that it exploded. Everywhere. This had never happened with the previous 4 pregnancies, so I started to panic. I stood there thinking to myself "this is my 5th kid, my water just exploded, and this kid is going to come NOW!" So I started yelling for him to wake up. Every time I took a breath to yell, more fluid gushed out, making me panic even more. Finally, he woke up and realized what was happening - I told him to grab a towel from the upstairs bathroom and get moving. He brought me the towel and I basically diapered myself with it and told him to meet me in the van - and don't forget the carseat.

I walked out the back door, calling the hospital to let them know that I was on my way. As I stepped out of the door, I felt my hair stand up on end and realized that there was lightning in the sky - everywhere around me. I waddled as fast as I could to the van and waited for him. Finally, he came out, with his cigarettes in his hand, but no carseat. I yelled at him, asking him where the carseat was, and he started to turn around to go back and get it, and a contraction hit. I told him to forget about it, get into the van, and DRIVE!

It was the scariest drive ever. Here he was, drunk, driving me to the hospital. I should have driven, but I wasn't sure that I could in the condition that I was in at the time. When we got to the hospital, he dropped me off at the ER entrance and went to park the van. I bolted waddled as fast as I could to the maternity wing and quickly told a nurse that my husband was coming behind me, and he was drunk. She assured me that if he created a scene, he would be asked to leave.

We got to my room and I got the epidural almost immediately. He passed out on the recliner in the room and I was able to doze off and on for a few hours. By the time I was in active labor, he was sober. I have to admit that he was fantastic while I labored and throughout the delivery. We were both happy and it was a great moment. He stayed throughout the day, and went home that night.

The next morning I was scheduled to get my tubes tied. He got there before I left for surgery and waited until I was done. Then he said that he was going to go back to the house to check the mail. I was suspicious, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He came back a few hours later carrying a travel mug, and one look at his face told me that my suspicions were correct. He was wasted. He walked back out of the room to get something from the cafeteria, and the nurses immediately descended on my room, and they informed me that he had walked into the wrong room before he got to mine, and they were ready to call for security. Instead, we came up with a code - if when he came back to the room, either the nurses or I felt that he needed to be removed from the premises, we would say something about calling "Dr. Smith" (the pediatrician).

He came back in minus the travel mug, and Dr. Smith was right behind him. The nurse and I looked at each other like "oh crap, what about our code?" He immediately started getting mouthy with the doctor, telling her that she needed to go get HIM something to eat. She looked at the nurse and said "I think you need to make that phone called that we discussed" and the nurse walked out of the room.

Within minutes, there were 4 city police officers in my room surrounding me. Two of them pulled my husband out of the room while 2 stayed with me, questioning me. Sadly, they were all-too-familiar with our situation, as they had all been to our house before due to the history of violence during his drinking binges. He was escorted off of the hospital property and told not to return - ever. I was quickly moved to a different room in the off-chance that he managed to sneak back in unnoticed. I was devastated.

I spent the rest of the day on Monday talking to a social worker about the situation, crying most of the time. What was supposed to be such a joyous event turned into something that was gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. Daniel and I were dismissed on Tuesday, and for the second time I left the hospital with a newborn alone and drove myself home. I hoped that he would greet us at the door, happy to see us, taking pictures of Daniel's homecoming. Instead, I walked into the house with our newborn son and found him passed out on the floor of the living room. Here I was, 2 days after delivering our son, walking back and forth across the back yard, bring load after load of stuff in from the van - including everything that I had picked up from WalMart on the way home. And he was passed out drunk.

And so continued our life together. He eventually went through rehab, and stayed sober for 99 days - and life was good. But on the 100th day he made the choice to drink again. He continued to drink until well after I asked him to leave our home permanently on May 6, 2009.

So why am I telling this story in detail now? It's certainly not to badmouth Daniel's father. He was a good man but he had demons that were too strong for him to defeat. I have no doubt that he loved Daniel until the day that he died.

I am telling this now because there are so many details of those few days that people don't know about. I have kept a lot of this to myself for 5 years because I was scared and embarrassed to tell the truth about what happened. But, as we celebrate Daniel's 5th birthday this weekend, it brings so many emotions to the surface for me. For him to have come into this world in the middle of such a messed up set of circumstances, he is an amazing little boy. He is smart and funny and happy and healthy - and he shows me that no matter how horrible the situation is, something wonderful can come out of it. He has taught me more about love and strength than anyone else that I know. I knew that even in the darkest days following his father's death that we would get through it, and that we would get through it together.

He doesn't really remember his father. He recognizes him in pictures, and he tells me that his "daddy died and went to Heaven" but he is still too young to really comprehend what that means. Right now, he knows that his father was sick - and as he gets older he will ask more questions, and I know that those questions will become harder to answer, but we will get through it - just as we have been doing.

We had a little party for him today since the older 3 kids are leaving in the morning. We had cake and ice cream and presents, and The Dude and his mother were here to share in it. He walked around all day today proclaiming that although he is 4 years old today, tomorrow he will be 5!



Tomorrow, he celebrates. And I will continue to reflect on the circumstances that brought him into this world while we celebrate with him - and I won't be scared or embarrassed about it any longer.

Police standoff - in my front yard

It started out as a normal enough day. I had 4 kids (Sarah spent the night with a friend) and we all got up and went to church. After church, we came home and watched the race.

At some point during the race, the kids got bored and so they went outside to play. A little while later, they came running in yelling that there were dogs in the backyard. That is not something that we deal with here very often, so I was immediately concerned. I went outside, not knowing what to expect. Sure enough, there were 3 rather large dogs running loose - 2 big black ones and a slightly smaller white one. They didn't appear to be aggressive, but I didn't want to take any chances. A quick glance at all of them showed me that they did have collars on, and they appeared to be clean and well-fed, so I didn't think that they were strays. With that assumption made, I started calling to them. The black ones came to me after a few minutes, and I was able to see that they had tags too - one had a tag from Alabama along with a tag with some in-state (but not local) phone numbers and one had a local phone number. I told Emily to go grab my phone while I held the dogs. I tried calling all of the numbers and couldn't get through to anyone.

In the meantime, the white dog started getting a little agitated. I don't know if he was just ticked off that I had his buddies or what, but I wasn't happy. I called 911 and was told that they don't have animal control officers working on the weekend, so unless the dogs were posing a threat, they wouldn't do anything about it. I informed them that I wasn't comfortable with them running around the neighborhood and the dispatcher sent an officer over. I stayed on the porch steps with the two black ones until he got here.

As soon as he stepped into my yard, the white dog lunged after him and started growling and barking at him. The officer immediately pulled his tazer out and aimed and yelled at the dog. The dog backed up but kept growling and snapping. The officer called for the animal control truck to get here NOW and just held the tazer there, ready to fire if necessary. He stood there like that until his backup arrived. I told the kids to get inside just in case things got ugly, but of course they were all standing in the front window watching.

The second officer pulled up in the truck and the white dog did the same thing to him. The black dogs - I was still holding them by their collars - started getting a little feistier but they didn't get aggressive so I just kept a hold of them. The officers tried to coax the white dog with treats and tried to get him with the catch pole, and it just wasn't working. It was really kind of funny - at one point they looked at me, still sitting on the steps holding these other 2 dogs, and asked if I was ok to just stay there. I just said that I was fine but if attacks started, I was out of there and they could fend for themselves! The one officer admitted that dogs just don't like him, so he was letting the other guy do all of the work, rather than making the situation worse.

The white dog finally ran over to me, and somehow I managed to shift both of the black dogs' collars into one hand and I snatched the white dog's collar with my other hand - so I now had 3 dogs by their collars, and two police officers looking at me like I was insane. They came over and got the white dog, since he was the one being difficult and they got him coaxed into the truck with minimal snapping and growling. I walked over to the truck with a black dog on each hand. The officer tried to get the first one into the truck and he didn't want to go, so he ended up just picking him up in his arms and putting him inside. The third dog - the one with 3 legs - just couldn't make the jump up into the truck and looked at the officers like he was saying "dude, you want me to get up there?" so the officer sighed, leaned over, and picked him up and put him in the truck too.

You can tell from the pictures that the dogs really weren't terribly ferocious - but that white dog did make me nervous. He was too jumpy and edgy and I just had visions of one of the kids moving the wrong way and having him attack - I questioned myself pretty hard before calling them in, but when I saw the white one's aggression toward the officers, I knew that I made the right call. And yes, the black ones had tags, but they were expired - and the white one had no tags whatsoever. The officers felt that there was enough information on the black dogs to track down the owners so I am confident that they will be returned to their home soon.

The one Emily has is the one with 3 legs.

Trying to call the phone numbers on the tags.

Is it too much to ask for a drama-free day???

I Took My Life Back

Today marked a very important anniversary for me. It is almost a birthday of sorts. Two years ago today, I took my life back and reclaimed it for myself.

It started out as a typical day, for the most part. I don't remember anything in particular about the day itself. My husband had been laid off about a month and a half before this and so he had just been pretty much hanging around the house and was drinking anytime he had the chance. I left to go pick up the 3 older kids after school, and I believe that we stopped at the grocery store on the way home, so we were a bit later than he expected us to be.

When I pulled into the driveway, I saw him in the garden. He had his back to us at first, but I could tell just by his posture that he had been drinking. He turned to look at us, and one look at his face confirmed it.

The next thing that I saw was the knife.

There, on his belt, was a sheath with a very large (to me) knife in it. I don't know a lot about types of knives, but I would say that it was similar to a buck knife with a blade that was about 8" long. I was immediately terrified, and tried desperately not to show it. Sarah saw it next, and in her 9-year old innocence asked me why he had it. I told her that I didn't know, and to just go into the house with the other kids.

We all made our way inside. The kids ran, he staggered, and I tried to walk as normally as I could with my knees knocking and my heart pounding. Once we got into the house, he became extremely agitated. The kids were wound up, which was never a good thing to be around him when he was intoxicated. He started yelling at them and at me. I tried to convince him to go back outside and calm down - all I wanted him to do was walk out the back door, give me a few minutes to get the kids to relax, and then he could come back in - but he refused to do so. Sarah started to get really scared and asked him to snap the knife sheath closed - it was hanging open and she was afraid that the knife was going to fall out and hurt someone.

Instead of him snapping the sheath shut, he pulled the knife out and started waving it around his head like a lunatic. The kids panicked and I looked at Sarah and yelled at her to call her father (Ex1) to come and get them - at that point, I knew that there was no turning back. He kept waving the knife around - never directly at anyone, but as agitated as he was it would have only taken a slight wrong move to seriously injure himself, the kids, or me. I kept telling him to put the knife away, and he refused. I told him to go outside and calm down, and he refused. At one point he walked toward the back door and I used that to my advantage - he was not a large guy at all (I outweighed him by about 20 pounds) and I used my body weight and every ounce of strength that I had to push him out of the back door of the house. I slammed the door shut and locked it, then ran to the front door and did the same.

Within minutes, the police were there - thankfully, Ex1 had called them as soon as he got Sarah's call. They questioned my husband, they questioned me, and as much as they wanted to, there wasn't enough to arrest him. I told them everything exactly as it happened - that he never made a direct threat or pointed the knife at anyone, but that I was still terrified that something could have happened. Keep in mind that this was not the first time that they had been called to our house - there had been several instances of violence when he was in a drunken rage, so the officers were familiar with the situation.

I told them that I understood that they couldn't arrest him - that time - but that I just wanted him to leave the house. With the house being in both of our names, they couldn't legally force either one of us to leave, but they did talk to him and strongly encouraged him to disappear for at least the night. The last I saw of him that night was his back as he rode his bike down the street. I found out later that he went to our pastor's house to talk to her, as she called me later and asked if I would pack some clothes and things for him and put it out on the porch so that she could get it for him.

Before the officers left, one of them looked at me and said, "How much longer are you going to put up with this?" He wasn't saying it to be nasty - the tone of his voice showed that he understood the position that I was in at that point. He had been to our house on numerous occasions so he saw the pattern that I had chosen to ignore up until that moment. I looked at him and said, "I'm done." And I meant it.

I was done. I was done with the lies, the drinking, the verbal abuse, the physical abuse, the threats, the name calling...everything. I was done with it. He never spent another night in our house again.

The past two years have been a rollercoaster. For the longest time, I stuck my head in the sand and ignored everything that was falling apart around me. I was in a deep depression, but very few people saw it or understood the depths of it. I look back now and I wonder how I made it through those times, because they were by far the darkest times of my life. There were times that I really questioned whether or not I could go on - but my kids kept me going.

When I was finally able to file for the divorce, it was a feeling of relief. I feel horrible saying that now, but it really was. I needed to take that next step in the reclaiming of my life. I celebrated when it was final, because I could finally feel the control coming back to me. When he died 20 days later, I went through every emotion in the book.

I still struggle. Life isn't easy - at all. But now, 2 years after I made the decision to take my life back, I truly feel that I am in control of what happens to me. This is MY life - and I can do what I want to do with it. I don't have to answer to him or anyone else. I can and will do what needs to be done to take care of myself and my kids.

I spent the day at my friends' house, working in the garden. My friend took the boys with him while he ran errands, so I had close to 5 hours of quality time to myself - I planted seeds and enjoyed the feel of the sun on my face and the wind on on my skin and just reflected on everything that has happened over the past two years. For the first time in a very long time, I can honestly say that I'm happy with where I am.

I took the kids out for supper tonight - mainly because I'm too tired and sunburned to cook - and caught this shot on the way home...

It just seemed peaceful - something that I am finally feeling for myself.