Category Archives: Ex Files

The Ex-Files – Milk & The Kitchen Floor

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I ran a daycare in my home for several years when my kids were small. I had to do something to bring in money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and feed my kids. CP wasn’t doing much working during that time. Mostly he just sat on his ass in the middle of my business, cramping my style, and playing solitaire with a deck of cards that I would have loved to shove down his throat.

One day, I had 7 kids counting my two, for the entire day. I was extremely busy and a bit stressed, mostly because of CP. I always tried to sweep and mop the kitchen floor at least every other day because when you’re feeding a bunch of kids at least 2 meals a day, it gets rather messy. CP was naturally sitting at the kitchen table, playing with his stupid cards and in my way, as usual. I thought, Dammit, I wish you’d go sit in someone else’s way for a change. He did finally leave. He probably went to his cousin’s house.

It was mid-afternoon and the kids were either doing puzzles, napping, or watching PBS. It was calm for the time being so I figured I’d have time to sweep and mop the floor. I swept first, obviously. I had most of the floor mopped when the toddler woke up from his nap. I quickly finished and went to get the little whipper-snapper.

The house was still semi-calm. I sat down to rest and do puzzles with 2 of the boys who were ages 6 and 7. Then I read a funny story about a rabbit who got lost. The day was coming to an end. I helped the kids get ready for their moms to pick them up. When they had all been picked up, I went to the kitchen to start dinner. About the same time, CP came home.

CP decided he was going to finish off the coffee left in the pot. He liked milk in his coffee, so he grabbed the gallon jug of milk from the refrigerator. It was virtually a full jug. I don’t know how he did it, but he dropped the entire jug and it hit the floor with a big crash and milk splattered everywhere. I said to CP, “Good grief. I just mopped the floor!” He laughed and apologized. He said he would clean it up.

He did clean up the mess, mopped the floor again and everything. The problem was that he had to show me how much dirt came off the floor when he mopped. I probably rolled my eyes, thinking here we go again. I knew what was coming and I was right.

He proceeded to tell me how he would mop the floor. He went through the entire process in great detail while I stood there completely disgusted and ready to stick that mop up his ass so far he could taste it.

When he finished this detailed explanation of the process, as if I’m stupid and never mopped a floor before in my life, I told him, “I didn’t do a thorough clean because I had 7 kids here all day, as you well know.” He started to say something and I cut him off, “I don’t have time when the house is full of kids. I have meals to fix, and activities to do, diapers to change, kids to take to the potty. I also take the kids outside to play, read to them, play with them, take them to the park and other various places, all while trying to fit in the household chores that won’t get done unless I do them myself. So, I guess if you’re not satisfied with the way I mop the floor or anything else around here, then maybe you can get off your ass and do it yourself from now on.” I walked away… He grumbled something under his breath and went out to the garage to pout and drink beer… I guess this is how I ‘drove him to drink.’ Ha.

Finally, now I can fix dinner. Geesh!

He did this kind of thing all the time… He always had to tell me how he would do something, how his uncles used to do something, or how his mother did something. Quite frankly I didn’t give a shit how anyone else did anything. I did things my way and I still do.

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The Ex-Files – The Fight

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I’ve just not had it in me to write about the ex for quite some time. I found myself thinking too damn much about him and the things he put me through. Seems like once I start thinking or writing about it, it gets stuck in my brain and won’t let go! I hate that.

I can’t believe it’s been since April 2018 that I last wrote about my ex! If you haven’t read the previous installments, you’ll find links to each one at the end of this post.

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It was a very long 2 months. Dad left in May with our belongings – not CP’s things or bigger furniture because CP was supposed to move those things when he followed us out in August. I knew deep down that he wasn’t going to move out there with us. And I was right.

June rolled around and things were tense. My baby sister was staying with us with her first-born, just a baby at the time. I’m so thankful I had her there to keep me sane. Plus, she was witness to what transpired the week of CP’s birthday.

The kids were so excited about their father’s birthday. They called him “Pop.” They wanted to bake Pop a cake. I thought it was a great idea. On the day of CP’s birthday, while he was at work, the kids and I baked him a chocolate sheet pan cake. It was nothing fancy because I didn’t have the extra money for candles or cake decor. The kids didn’t care. They were excited anyway.

When CP came home from work, the kids greeted him with “Happy Birthday, Pop!” and “We baked you a cake, Pop!” I don’t remember his response. It wasn’t very enthusiastic and he went off to take a shower. When he finished, I reminded him that the kids had baked him a cake for his birthday and he said, “That was nice,” and “I’m tired. Going to bed.” You worthless piece of crap, I thought. The kids were so disappointed and on the verge of tears. I told them, “Let’s have cake!” “Yay!” they yelled. I figured it was their idea to make a cake, they helped (ages 2 and 5 at the time) and why the hell shouldn’t they enjoy the damn cake? Just because their father was inconsiderate and didn’t care that he hurt their feelings doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have some cake!

Three days passed. Each night, CP passed on the cake and went to bed. Each night, the kids, my sister, and I had cake. On the fourth night, he came home drunk, with an attitude and ready to start a fight.

He skipped dinner, but he had cake. He grabbed a big piece of cake – it was at least 5 or 6 inches squared. He put it on a napkin. He walked into the living room and sat down in his chair and ate that piece of cake with NO fork and with a pissy look on his face. I knew shit was going to hit the fan, just by the look on his face. I didn’t like that he was eating like this in front of the kids. What kind of example does that set? No fork, no plate. Seriously. I became more irate as the minutes ticked by…

“Where’s your fork?” I asked, but I didn’t think it was with a snotty tone. He responded angrily, “I don’t need a fucking fork.” I was livid. I said, “So, you’re just going to eat like an animal?” I don’t remember how it went from two big attitudes to a huge fucking fight so quickly. It ended up with him saying something like, “I suppose I’m no longer welcome to go to Missouri?” It was clear at that very moment that he was looking for a fight and a reason to blame ME for him not moving to Missouri with us. I told him, “You got that right, asshole.”

Then, it escalated even more. He just blasted me with hatefulness and things he had never said to me before. I know he was drunk but I firmly believe a drunk person does not say things he doesn’t mean.

He told me that I was a bitch, just like my mother.

He said that I spent all of his money.

He blamed me for his drinking.

He said that I neglected our son because he was a boy. 

He told me I was spiteful.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He had always told me I was nothing like my mother. He always said it was our money, not his money. He said I was a good mother. I couldn’t believe this crap! How could I be to blame for his drinking? Did I twist his arm and pour fucking beer down his throat? No! He says I’m spiteful?? Holy crap. Pot calling the kettle black, I’d say.

Well, that was the end. The ABSOLUTE END. There would be no second chance. I would not accept an apology ever. It would be wasted on deaf ears. I will not be disrespected like that! Up until that night, it was always subtle manipulation and an attitude of superiority – he never said he was better, smarter, etc., but he sure as hell made comments to make me feel that I was stupid. My mother made me feel the same way and now, I realize people don’t do that unless they’re the ones lacking somehow.

I had had enough over the years but was too stubborn to put an end to it before. I say stubborn because I don’t like to fail. I will bust my ass to make something work, to get something right so I won’t have to admit failure. It’s not like I didn’t have feelings for this man. I wouldn’t have stayed at all if I didn’t love him. I wouldn’t have had children with the man if I didn’t love him. He killed all of those feelings in one freakin’ night.

The kids and I got on the airplane in July and I’ve never regretted it once. He regretted it. He regretted ever saying any of those things to me. I know this because of a conversation I had with his mother. I’m sure he put her up to it. She asked me if I would take him back. I laughed and said, “Absolutely not.”

Stay tuned for the next installment…..

This is the seventh installment of a series. If you missed the first six installments, you can find them here: The Break-Up & The Concert, Finding My Own Place, Financial Burden, Spite, Accusations, and Planning The Move.

The Ex-Files – Planning The Move

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For about a year before I actually left my ex, we had been making plans to leave California and move to Missouri or Arkansas. Dad was planning the move himself (cheaper to live and buy property in that part of the country) and he didn’t want to live alone so he invited us to go with him. CP was excited about it. I was unsure but went along with the planning.

CP insisted that it wouldn’t take him more than a couple of weeks to find a job, once we moved. At that time, he was driving a truck for a local company so he was sure he could get another truck driving job quickly. Every couple of weeks my Dad came from San Francisco to visit and we always talked a lot about the move. Each time we had one of our discussions, CP would change his timeline for finding a job. First, it was 2 weeks and then it was 2 months. Then it changed to 4 months. Next time, it was 6 months. It seemed to me that he was trying to weasel his way out of working and doing his fair share when we moved! I was worried and I knew I was either going to have to tell him in no uncertain terms how things were going to be or I was going to have to UNinvite him completely.

Dad was going to retire very soon and the plan was that he would haul a trailer with important belongings, some furniture, etc., put our things in storage and then start the hunt for a house that was large enough to accommodate CP and me, our 2 kids, my grandmother and of course, my Dad. Dad had purchased plane tickets for me, my kids and my grandmother before he left. We were set to leave in July. CP was going to follow by car later in August and with the rest of our belongings. This would give him the chance to tie up loose ends.

My Dad left in May. He put our belongings in storage as planned and began his hunt for a house. He stayed in hotels off and on, mostly for a shower every few days. Other nights, he stayed at roadside rest areas, to sleep and sometimes he bought meat at Walmart to take to the rest area to cook on an open grill. He was essentially homeless. He eventually found the small home we are now living in, but it took until July to find something in our price range. The kids and I had to stay at my sister’s house for 3 weeks because we were still waiting for closing on the house.

Back on the homefront, prior to the move in late May, CP invited his aunt and uncle over for dinner. I tried my hand at homemade manicotti. I made the pasta by hand and it turned out fantastic! That evening, my daughter wanted to play with her Lite Brite set and CP had a fit about how she would dump it and not pick it up. She promised she would pick it up when she was done so he let her have it. She played and played while the grown-ups talked. She finally got tired of it and was picking it up but her little brother wanted to play with it. They began screaming and fighting and I stopped them. SR was picking up her mess, as she had promised but since brother wanted to play, too I told her she could let him play with it. She started to get upset about the promise she had made to her pop.  I said, “I’ll tell pop that your little brother wanted to play and that you were picking it up like you promised. I’ll help brother pick it up when he’s done.” She was worried that she was going to get into trouble. (She was just 6 years old.) I assured her she would not get into trouble. I didn’t think this would be a problem.

In the meantime, CP calmly mentioned in front of his aunt and uncle that he would be following us on our move, but it would be a few months later than originally planned, December to be exact. This was the first I had heard of it and he only mentioned it in front of his aunt and uncle because he knew I wouldn’t cause a scene. He knew I wouldn’t question him in front of his aunt and uncle. I didn’t disagree with him and let it go, just as he predicted I would. It was this precise moment that I knew CP had no intention of following us on our move. It was just one stall after another. First, changes in the amount of time it would take to get a job, and now this.

After another hour or so of visiting with his aunt and uncle, CP came through the house and saw my daughter’s Lite Brite pieces all over the floor. He was pissed off and started yelling at SR and really piling it on thick because his aunt and uncle were still there. (I wasn’t aware that little brother had finished playing with it or it would have been picked up already.) I tried to explain to CP what had happened; that I told her I would help little brother pick them up after he was done playing. (He was just barely 3 years old.) CP was showing off, trying to show his aunt and uncle who’s boss when he yelled, “I told her to pick up the mess and what I say goes!” He refused to hear what I was saying. That’s when I started picking up the mess. My blood was starting to BOIL. He tried to push his weight around even more and I stood up, and I told SR and CP to go to their rooms to play. I stared him dead in the eye as if the glare would kill him instantly. (I wish it would have, to tell you the truth.) Then I got back down on my hands and knees and finished picking up the goddam pieces to the Lite Brite set myself. Aunt and uncle watching, of course. He is NOT going to treat me like that, or my kids over something so insignificant. There was no reason for CP to make a scene and act like a complete asshole over the whole thing when it could have been easily put to rest. Sometimes circumstances change and as parents, we have to make quick decisions and change the rules a bit. Maybe I made the wrong choice in the first place but I honestly didn’t think it was going to be a big deal. To this day, I still wonder….

Anyway, aunt and uncle finally left. I enjoyed their company but thought when they left, CP and I could talk about what happened. But no. CP went to bed, without a word to me or the kids. Naturally, it’s still early enough that the kids were still up and I still a kitchen to clean, kids to bathe, stories to read, etc., etc.

Stay tuned for the next installment. 

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This is the sixth installment of a series. If you missed the first five installments, you can find them here: The Break-Up & The Concert, Finding My Own Place, Financial Burden, Spite, and Accusations.

The Ex-Files – Accusations

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CP’s first wife cheated on him and I guess he expected me to do the same. He always seemed to have questions about where I was or what I was doing. I could tell he was suspicious many times but I kept my mouth shut.

Now, let me just say that I have never nor would I ever, cheat on a guy. If I have a problem with a guy or just don’t want to see him anymore, then I would most definitely be honest about it. I wouldn’t go behind his back and cheat. What the hell is the point in that? And as much as I wanted to kick his ass, I wanted our relationship to work.

This incident happened in the first 5 years of our relationship before we started having kids. So, on with this story….

While I was busting my ass working a part-time job, plus cleaning houses, and babysitting, CP was running his own automotive repair shop, which was a joke. He never did any of the work. I had even lent a helping hand and worked in the office answering the phone on days I didn’t have any other jobs to do. That got old quick.

CP decided to hire a guy he knew from school to help out at the shop. He felt bad for the guy. His name was Ken. He was a nice guy I suppose. He had split from his wife and he needed a job to help support his 2-year-old daughter. He also needed a place to stay. So, what did CP do? He told Ken he could stay with us. He didn’t even run it by me first. I should have cold-cocked him with a frying pan a long time ago.

Well, my peaceful little sanctuary of an apartment became an uncomfortable and awkward place to be. Ken slept on the couch, just within earshot of the bedroom. He rarely bathed so my couch eventually started to smell like ass. Literally. He got on my nerves because he was always there. We had no privacy. He was always helping himself to whatever we had in the refrigerator. He never stopped talking. He was a pain in the ass to have around all the time. He stayed with us for weeks…and weeks….

One day, I was leaving CP’s shop and Ken needed to go change his clothes or something so he could go somewhere. I don’t recall those details. I was going home anyway, so I offered him a ride. CP knew Ken was leaving with me. He never said anything or even showed any disapproval. I never thought anything of it. I was just being me.

So, we got to the apartment and I grabbed something for lunch while Ken did whatever…. I finished my lunch and then I left. What went on after that, I have no clue. When I got home just an hour or so later, CP was sitting on the living room floor feeling the carpet.

I just stopped and thought for a moment, “What the fuck is he doing?” He was the only one home. Ken was gone, thank goodness. CP said there was a wet spot on the floor. Then it dawned on me. He thinks…no, he couldn’t think that. Why would he think that I could…. I couldn’t even go there in my mind let alone say it aloud. He thought that I cheated on him with Ken, on the floor. OMG. Ewww. The guy who smelled like ass. The guy who stunk up my couch. Holy crap. How could he think such a thing when he knows that I was sick of looking at that guy every damn day?

I thought to myself, this is going to stop right now. I confronted him and said, “I know what you’re thinking and you’d better not even go there! I am not going to be accused of cheating AGAIN!”

This was NOT the first time he had accused me of cheating. The first time was a couple of years earlier when he found a pair of my undies under the couch cushion. He jumped to the conclusion that I had hid them there. He figured the only reason for me to hide them was that I had cheated and needed to hide the evidence. Dumb shit. Why wouldn’t I have just put them in the laundry hamper? Anyway, I had to remind him of the laundry I had dumped on the end of the couch the week prior that sat there for days and days because I was too lazy to pick them up and put them away. A pair of undies probably just got pushed down between the cushions and I didn’t realize it when I finally put the laundry away. Geez.

Anyway, that accusation was put to rest, as was the “wet spot” incident. CP apologized both times. I tried several times over the years to make him understand that I am not like his ex and that if I didn’t want to be with him then I would have left him. I would not have cheated. That’s just not who I am.

Now, I know not all men are assholes but my ex was, and most likely still is. I don’t know if he became someone else’s problem or not but I hope she didn’t forget he was an asshole like I always did!

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This is the fifth installment of a series. If you missed the first four installments, you can find them here: The Break-Up & The Concert, Finding My Own Place, Financial Burden, and Spite.

The Ex-Files – Spite

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I was 8 months pregnant with my son. I was running a Day Care in our home to make money to keep food on the table and the electricity on. Oh and then there was the rent. We were always behind but I had to do what I could to keep the landlord from evicting us. He was very understanding, more than he should have been.

CP was in one of his ruts where he was laid off from a job and not getting off his ass to find another. He seemed to think the food was going to magically appear and that the electricity fairies were going to keep the power on. He always said something stupid like, “We don’t need electricity.” WHAT?! Seriously, you may be wondering? Yes. I’m serious. What did he think was keeping his damn beer cold and making his coffee every day? What did he think I was going to do with the 7 kids I had in my house every day with no power? That meant no Sesame Street, no cooking meals, no lights, no freezer and refrigerator to keep our food, no cold milk for cereal, no clean clothes, and many other things. I wish I knew what the hell was wrong with him!

So, anyway… I was busy with kids all day long and he was sitting around in my way. I was preparing meals for my Day Care kids, doing laundry, cleaning up messes, and doing activities with the kids. We had outside playtime, preschool activities, and I also had a few learning centers set up. I was busy so when the dryer buzzer went off this particular day, I ran to the dryer, threw the clothes in a basket and took the basket to my bedroom. I was thinking I’d get to it asap and just tossed the basket on my bed. It just happened to be on CP’s side of the bed. Big mistake.

He came home after a few hours of “shootin’ the shit” as he called it, with his cousins. I guess it was around 7:30 pm. He was tired and as per the norm, he went to bed with no dinner. Even though I cooked, from scratch, because anything less than that would have pissed him off. But I digress. He went to bed before 8:00 pm.

He never thought about ME. I still had our daughter to bathe and get to bed, bedtime stories to read, a kitchen to clean up, toys to put away….and my own shower and relaxation – HA. He was in bed because HE was tired, from NOT working, but from visiting with family. By 11:00 pm I was finally finished with MY chores, exhausted and went to bed.

Let’s not forget the very first line of this post. Go back and look. I’ll wait.

I got ready for bed and quietly entered my bedroom. I couldn’t turn on the light because CP was sleeping so when I got to my side of the bed I tripped. What did I trip over? The fucking laundry basket I sat on the bed earlier in the day. I nearly fell on my stomach (all 8 months of my son there) but thankfully I was able to catch my fall on the nightstand with my right arm, spraining my wrist in the process. I was so pissed off when I found out what it was I tripped over, I went to the living room with my pillow and slept on the couch.

In the morning I said angrily to CP, “Thanks for putting the laundry basket on the floor in the dark of the bedroom for me to trip over last night. I almost landed on my belly.” He replied, “Sorry, but you put the laundry basket on my side of the bed so I thought you did it for spite.” So apparently, since he thought I did it out of spite then it was ok for him to almost cause me and our unborn child serious injury??? THAT is spiteful behavior!

I think that’s when I really started to hate him.

The Problem is, women think

This is the fourth installment of a series. If you missed the first three installments, you can find them here: The Break-Up & The Concert, Finding My Own Place, and  Financial Burden.