Who am I but just the Mother

My life has recently turned a corner that I never expected to round.
When a normal bedtime routine so far from Home of Record was disturbed by a phone call.
The other parent, whom I do not always agree with, is calling me.

"What? He is where? Why? How long? How did this happen?"

The smirk in his voice turning sour this nights earlier dinner. I am at once on alert, heart clenching in disbelief. All summer long the words my oldest poured forth to me becoming prominent in my mind. The advice my more experienced Father giving to shrug it off now becomes the question of "Was I wrong?"

I walk a normal balance of eggshells between a quiet normalcy and gut wrenching depression monster looming over me. Especially now. In a new place, a new house, a new climate. So far from my oldest, my comfort zone.

Things with my oldest were not always the best while I was living back home. He would come into the house like a thunder cloud of destruction. Almost hell bent on making our visit nothing but a shouting match. Determined to cut me as low as he could. I would rise up, knowing my emotional stability would crash on Monday after the weekend was over. I chose to continue to love him. I wanted so badly to hug him. But sometimes I couldn't see the sunny side of my son for the raging storm clouds surrounding him.

His age and our financial situation made it a hard decision to decide to ride it out. To many it was just another way of me throwing him to the wolves. But they did not have an insiders view of my house during those visits. Of non stop yelling and smaller kids crying and TVs blaring and kids singing and acquisitions of not loving and playing favorites and throwing one under the bus in order to save two.

I knew I would be moving and I tried to make every moment count. Even when resistance and anger met me every step of the way. I longed to take all three of my beautiful kids to church, but Sunday mornings dawned bright and he refused to budge. Refused to eat. Refused to go unless I yelled. Which I didn't want to do, but I did.

Sometime after moving away I managed to make him take his hatred to a new level. When he called me in a panic for the one hundredth time over something I was certain was untrue, I contacted the other parent. Mostly I have no idea why I did that. I have survived a summer of barely communication with the other. I hear my Son's words and see his father from a distance. There is no united parenting team between us. It is him against me. It has always been this way. My attempts at being neutral and kind are always met with disbelief and fake words. I guess you could say in some ways, I too live in fear. Isn't that why we removed the house we desperately wanted to sell from the market?

I am praying hard, but I have yet to actually pick up my Bible and open it. I read children's Bible stories nightly, but I doubt that is enough to counter the devil on this one. I have reached out to prayer warrior and others for advice.

I want to fight, but am met with much resistance because on paper it says I am just a mother, nothing more. The ball is not in my court and nothing short of a financial miracle and a miracle will change that at this point.

December 12 2016

B. Alwildia Garcia