Because I volunteered in Community Action and advocating for the poor of Arizona before I left, I have some connections back there. I made a few phone calls and I sent him to meet with a couple of people and voila! His electric bill was paid, his gas bill was paid and he even had a box of food, but that wasn't enough, he was bitching at me because he didn't have any meat. This is a man who currently weighs about 270lbs at 6ft tall. He spends $15 per week on a can of Topps loose tobacco because he rolls his own and smokes like a chimney. When he buys groceries, he buys soda and ice cream and crap. He got fired from his last job and because it was an off the books job, he doesn't qualify for unemployment. He walked into a house that was fully furnished, stocked up with everything anyone could need for MONTHS. I had taken every spare dime I had and I had gone to Sams club and I had bought tolite paper, paper towels, laundry soap, food, clothes for my boys. I had paid up the car insurance for several months, the tags were paid for the year and I let him leave it in my name. Not for him. No, fuck him. I did this for my boys. I tried to get my boys out. I talked to the judge. I talked to a lawyer and because I didn't have the money for a long protracted legal battle in a state that says even a wife and child abusing man has legal rights to his kids, I had to bargain with him and he wouldn't let my boys go.I gave him the house to get my daughter out. I take care of things back there for my boys and he know that. He has me by my heart and he knows it. So when he called to bitch about not having any meat, I began working on it, but it really pissed me off. I mean, How dare he?
When I first moved up here with my daughter and son, we were on a shoe-string budget. Being fubar means that finding gainful employment is not easy and with the economy as it is, that makes it even more difficult, then factor in no car. We were behind the 8 ball from the get go, but we hit the ground fighting. I found us an apartment in a good area that we could afford, even though it took most of our money and then we hit second had stores and garage sales to furnish it. Almost nothing in my apartment is new. We came up here with 7 bags that held mostly clothes and things like our laptops and a few pictures. I had to leave my art, my books and pretty much everything I had ever acquired in my life.
Our first month in this apartment was tough. We had pretty much nothing, knew almost no one and it was pretty scary. I was still getting used to being around people again, missing my boys and my Fergus and my kids were afraid we were going to fail. The bright spot for us wads the 100 Monkeys concert.
We almost didn't go. I agonized over it. I was afraid of crowds, of riding the train and being around people and the noise and protecting my kids. We had almost no money for anything, in fact we had just $2.27 to our names, it was a fecking hot as hell day and we had no idea where we were really going. We left extra early and arrived downtown and started walking and bickering. Poor daughter ended up walking around 5 miles all told that day and by the time we arrived at Voodoo Donuts, she was exhausted and near tears. We spent our money getting her a Dr. Pepper, a bottle of water and a donut.
Sitting on that bench outside, sweaty , tired and stressed out, I realized that we were making progress. Even though my friend hadn't wanted us to go to the concert and had refused to let us use her car even though she had allowed it for all kinds of other things, I had not allowed someone to control me...I had made it anyway.Watching those funky little cars roll into the parking lot and those beautiful boys tumble out of them, I couldn't help but to smile and believe that things were looking up.
Things did get better after that, the sunshine had come into our lives with the discovery that we were truly independent, but life was still tough. With no money often meant no food. I will not allow my children to go hungry, but I am quite capable of missing meals myself and I did just that. I shopped very carefully for staples and I made meals for my children that were healthy and filling, but were not fancy and often I did not eat. I got away with it for a few weeks before my son caught onto the fact I wasn't eating much and we had a huge fight. He worries too much. My son is a good kid, but hes a teen and teen boys are endless eating machines, so I made sure he was well fed. I was glad when school started up though because that meant that they had lunch at school and I could stretch the food budget even further. I am lucky that grandma taught me to cook with staples and avoid the junk food, because without buying all the junk, we actually eat pretty good now, but we dont eat a lot of meat. That is what really griped me about the ex's call. He has complained about my boys not liking the steak he cooked one night on the grill I left and I had to bite my tongue...not only do we not have a grill here, but I have had exactly one steak in the last year. Beef is so rare in this house, that when I do buy it, my son acts as if its Christmas. We eat chicken, lots and lots of chicken or we have no meat at all and we do just fine. Out meals have gotten creative and interesting and I cook things that the kids brag about. I make, "Bangers and mash" with a homemade gravy that has my son calling his friend with a "heads up" when I get out the pans for it, so I end up having to make a double batch to feed two teen boys. Its cheap, filling and its something different. I make chicken spaghetti as well as all kinds of Thai food and even just plain noodles with veggis, but when I told the ex that he could forego the meat and maybe lose a few pounds, his response was,"How can you call yourself a Texan anymore?" I call myself a Texan because I am tough, resourceful and because I can burn the candle a both ends with a blowtorch going on the middle and still keep my pride that im doing it myself.
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