This weekend we have a family get-together in the form of a 40th birthday party. Wyatt and Christian would have a blast playing with their cousins and running loose in the park. Instead, because of their parents, the boys will be stuck in that horrible place they have to call home. They aren’t getting any outside stimulation and they aren’t getting any love and affection from their grandmother. I had ordered all of these books from the library for the boys and I had to take them back because they were due back. It’s been that long since I’ve seen them. I think it is criminal. I really do. I wish grandparents could sue for visitation. If their parents don’t want to be around me – I could honestly care less anymore. Those little boys need me – they need the rest of their family so that they will know that just because their parents are crazy doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.

I guess last Saturday, September 13th, Mary went to the emergency room again. This time she thought she was having a heart attack.

How much craziness do we have to put up with?

My problem is that now I can’t even stomach talking with my son. I’ve taken his abuse for about as long as I care to. I keep telling myself he will grow out of his hatefulness but he’s 28 years old. Even an eternal optimist like me has to put up with the nagging realization that perhaps this isn’t something he will grow out of.

What infuriates me is that I have no idea why he hates me so much. I’ve asked him and he has no answer. Whatever I did it must have been terrible. So terrible in fact that even I have blacked it out because I have no clue what his problem is. I have always been there for him. I have always loved him. I have always thought him brave, intelligent and caring. Of course, I’m an idiot when it comes to things like that. I tend to see the best in people. I have been wrong more than once.

If he’s mad at me because his father left – that’s irrational. I did not want him to have affairs. Perhaps I could have hung in there but . . . no, I couldn’t. He should be mad at his father not me.

I love my job but I'm even thinking about moving to a different state just so I don't have to put up with living so close to my family and not being able to see them.