Sacramento Failed Matthew Hernandez

What sort of despicable creature kills their son in cold blood with a hatchet? Only a monster– pure evil that is incomprehensible to the rest of us– could murder their own child.

Matthew Hernandez

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Monsters exist everywhere. No part of the world escapes heinous acts from the vilest of criminals. The gruesome end to 9 year old Matthew’s life is a tragedy, one that could have happened anywhere, in any region or country. Killer Philip Hernandez could have been a resident of Delaware or Texas or North Dakota, anywhere besides California. Yet as grieving mother Jessica Hernandez will tell you….the state of California does not always act in the best interests of its most vulnerable population.

Cases such as Jessica’s are the extreme, but her allegations [evidence blatantly ignored in the courtroom, denial of basic rights, various forms of discrimination, etc.] echo throughout the state, a common denominator amongst far too many cases. Between Family Court, Child ‘Welfare’ Services, and the foster care system– something is very wrong here.

Jessica Hernandez and her two sons
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The undeniable truth: Sacramento courts failed Jessica Hernandez and her son– at the cost of the young boy’s life. A judge chose to disregard crucial information and that irresponsible decision cost a family dearly. She’s not the first judge to do so. Nor will she be the last. To whom are these authority figures judges, social workers, civil servants answering? Other than contesting a verdict via the appeals process, what choice does one have when they know something is wrong? Why must children suffer at the hands of adults supposedly entrusted with their protection?

REFORM AMONGST THE FAMILY LAW COURTS, CWS, AND FOSTER CARE IS IMPERATIVE– THE NEED IS URGENT AND THE TIME IS NOW.

First Birthday Parties

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Time flies. Where has this past year gone? I feel as though I barely know my daughter. My son has never met his sister. Child ‘Welfare’ Services in San Luis Obispo County failed my children on such a colossal scale. They restricted my parental access, forcibly separated our family, and attempted to drive a wedge between Adam and me. And they failed miserably. Our bond transcends all. Tatum will meet her brother. These obstacles strengthen the unbreakable connection of our family. With time we will heal.

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Nothing makes me happier than seeing that beautiful smile. Her laughter and excitement reminds me daily that I made the right– the only– decision. I sacrificed one child to save another.

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Even sharing pictures of Tatum’s first birthday party can’t happen without a bitter taste in my mouth. At least she enjoyed her cake.

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A photo summary of first birthdays:

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Since we’ve been in California….
Tatum was born. Adam’s fourth birthday came and went. I turned 27. Maris and Theresa threw Tatum a party to celebrate her first year of life. In a few weeks Adam turns five. All milestones during which we were separated when we should have been together.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

Is this really happening?

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Ten glorious days with Tatum transported me to a blissful state, much like a dream. She’s gone now. And I’m wide awake.

How much more must we endure?

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

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Broken hearts and the organization that shall not be named

Adam loves his bike despite the fact that it's entirely too big for him.

Last night my heart broke all over again.  How I even have a heart left to break is beyond me.  I know I must forge ahead and be strong for my children, yet it’s so unbelievably difficult knowing what’s in store these next few weeks.  Heartbroken doesn’t even scratch the surface of the reality that I’ll be boarding a plane and flying 2000 miles away from my newborn daughter to return to California where I’m allowed to visit my son only once a week with a supervisor.  Never in a million years would I even consider relocating until Adam was freed from this depraved system.  Never in a million years would I endanger Tatum’s safety by bringing her out west.  Never in a million years would I ever have expected my ‘marriage revival’ to go so horribly astray.

When Adam called me last night he raved about his new bike.  Due to a misunderstanding at the women’s shelter [who generously gifted Adam with a bike], he received the wrong one, which is way too large for him.  His cousin slapped some training wheels on it and it’s working for the time being.  Adam also expressed his joy at his upcoming fourth birthday and the party we were planning.  “It’s just for me?!” he asked.  Before I could even detect a slight note of jealousy for his new sibling the next words out of his mouth were “Will my sister be at my birthday party?!  She’s so beautiful.”  I choked back the tears.  He heard Tatum hiccuping and got really excited, asking tons of questions.  On the phone it warmed my heart.  As soon as we hung up I bawled my eyes out as I clutched Tatum to my chest.  Once the tears subsided I was left with nothing but my anger.

Tatum truly is a gift from above.  Discovering the tiny life within my belly was….unexpected…though I never considered for a second any alternative except giving Adam a sibling.  Now I know why I gave birth in February 2012– so this dark maze I walk can be illuminated until I find the exit.  It cannot come soon enough.

I like to think she's dreaming of her big brother...

People have expressed their sadness, anger, grief, frustration, and concern for me.  While I appreciate their commiserations, this isn’t about me, and never has been.  I use my internet space to speak from my perspective but don’t be fooled:  I do this only to distract myself from the reality of Adam’s situation.  My poor, poor child.  His heartbreak, confusion, loneliness….I can’t.  I just can’t.  The thoughts of what this has done to him consume me.  Writing about it would force me to look at the words and be confronted with an ugly reality I can’t even begin to face.

Out of respect for my mother I’m not going to speak of an appalling incident that happened this afternoon.  Trust me– this is something that needs to be heard– but I’m not the one who makes that decision.  I don’t mention this to pique anyone’s curiosity for something that won’t be revealed.  I do reference this as a reminder that deplorable behavior does not go unnoticed.

How I react to this ordeal is entirely my decision….or how I react publicly and on this blog, at the very least.  From this point forward I refuse to mention CPS.  They won’t be called out by name or called out at all for that matter.  It’s enough that they’ve ruined countless lives these past few months and I’m not giving them anymore of my time.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Only a few more hours…

Posing by the azaleas in our driveway - Easter '09

My chauffeur will arrive in two and a half hours to take me to the hospital.  I’ve been up for over an hour now.  The realization that I wouldn’t be able fall asleep again frustrated me….until it became apparent just how much I needed this quiet time for myself.  Tears stream down my face as I write this and I’m allowing myself to cry.  This little slice of early morning is my mourning before I have to pull myself together.  Soon enough I have to focus only on the joyous mother role and step outside like absolutely nothing is wrong.

Except something is very wrong.

I should be introducing Adam to his sister at the hospital, not staring at the photo shrine I’m bringing with me in his absence.  What a terrible choice to be faced with:  do I ‘sacrifice’ one child to save another?  Towards the end of January I knew I had no other option.  Being commended on my progress told that my son would come home before his sister’s arrival….only to have that light snuffed out so cruelly….jolted me back to reality.  As my attorney [and virtually everyone else with common sense] said, the net was being widened for Tatum, plain and simple.  My daughter will not be placed in harm’s way nor will she ever be a victim of this grotesque system– she is protected.  But soon enough I shall resume the uphill battle in dangerous territory to fight for Adam.  I’m bawling now at the thought of how both of my children’s lives have been so severely impacted.

I pray that God is merciful and ends this nightmare before Tatum remembers much of it.

Adam and Gigi at Wilson's first birthday party, 1/10

Right before his bedtime last night Adam gave me a call to inquire about the big news Auntie spoke of earlier in the evening.  His kind, gentle soul is so understanding.  He knows that Tatum has to be born in a ‘special baby hospital’ so she will be safe and happy.  God only knows what’s going through his overburdened head, but he assures me that he wants the best for sister.  I reminded him that his sister would be born tomorrow.  To which he said:  “Whoa!  Where does she come from?”  In the past I told him babies fly out of a Mommy’s belly button [Although I believe in being as honest as possible with children at an age-appropriate level, he repeats everything, and I wasn't ready with a dazzling answer] so that’s what I said.  “How does that work?” he asked, skeptically.  When I told him my belly button opens up and out comes sister flying really fast he cackled like a maniac.  “That’s really funny,” he said.  “Flying sister.”  Hearing him tell me that he loved me ‘with all his heart,’ that he missed me, and that he was ‘super excited’ to be a big brother….

Adam, I know you sometimes look at this blog to see the pictures.  I hope that when you view the images here you remember how many people love you.  Things have been so terrible for your little self these past few months and there is so little you understand.  Please remember that there are people fighting for you around the clock.  Remember where you come from, the wonderful childhood you’ve had, your family near and far.  It will take tremendous effort but we will get things back to a state of normalcy for you.  That I promise.

I love you, sweet boy.  My heart breaks knowing you can’t be with me today.  It makes me so angry and sad to think of how we’ve been robbed.  When you get home from school you’ll be able to ‘meet’ your precious little sister….on Mommy’s YouTube account.

Somebody has an awesome GRRR face.

From the very beginning of this ordeal, I refused to pity myself.  The emotional roller coaster I felt was something I tried to translate into the toll this was taking on Adam, my pregnancy, and the future of our family….and even then I tried to channel that negativity into something productive.  Yet for the first time several days ago I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any rest for the weary.

My caseworker informed me that my presence was required at a newly– magically!– scheduled hearing taking place tomorrow.  What can you do but laugh?  Out of the kindness of their hearts I’m being allowed to phone in as opposed to actually appear.  It goes without saying that the topic of this hearing is nothing that has to be discussed tomorrow nor is it anything that a signed letter faxed on my behalf can’t solve.  But that would just be too easy to let me give birth in peace.  So I eagerly anticipate having my cell phone ring in the hospital sometime tomorrow afternoon between 1:30-3:00 Pacific Standard Time.  I’m so glad we clarified that–  California’s scheduling as opposed to the local time here in Bora Bora where I’m enjoying my leisurely vacation.

Nobody will rain on my parade.  It’s mind over matter.  I’ve made the conscious decision not to let anything affect me today– I don’t mind– and nothing else matters.  My focus today is bringing Tatum into this world. 

 

Tatum arrives TODAY!!  <3

 

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Yucky day

Season 4 can hit Netflix any day now.

UPDATE:  Brandi informed me that it was Lincoln’s birthday.  Didn’t they consolidate all those into President’s Day, later in the month?  Apparently SLO County seems to be the only one observing this as I asked friends across the nation if their schools, banks, offices, etc. were closed and they all said no.

Is today some sort of holiday completely unbeknownst to me?  Early this morning I began making my calls to the Atascadero Department of Social Services.  I thought they opened at 8 am, yet nobody answered after making several calls.  So I waited an hour to no avail.  The strangest thing was that the usual automated recording wasn’t playing.  After it rang enough there was a busy signal as opposed to the usual voicemail.  Despite the fact that this is a number I call frequently I checked online just to make sure it changed.  It hadn’t.  I attempted to call from my land line to make sure it wasn’t a cell problem.  It wasn’t.  As a last resort I even called my mom and gave her the number and she got the busy tone as well.

Starting to get irritated, I called the Paso Robles office.  The exact same thing happened.  It happened again when I called in San Luis Obispo.  And again in Arroyo Grande and Nipomo.  Surely things would be different after my morning nap!  Wishful thinking– come 3pm I’ve finally give up on speaking with a live person, decided to jump through a lot of internet hoops to find a fax number, and sent off a handwritten message via fax to my social worker.  Nobody was available to take me there until after 5 or I would have just showed up….but regardless.  My materials got sent.

Depression, stress, and frustration is really taking a toll on me.  Don’t get too excited– I’m still competent and functional!– but I’m more ready to meet my daughter.  The combination of excess time on my hands [which means I'm constantly researching legal stuff] and trying to determine what hospitals in the area other than Twin Cities will take me [apparently none] is overwhelming.  I can’t wait for today to be over.  Tomorrow’s a new day.

8 days until Tatum’s arrival.  <3

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

A bad ‘partnership’

DISCLAIMER:  This post is not one to mince words.  Read at your own risk.

The infamous brochure

On November 22nd my attorney and I made the first of our many court appearances:  to contest a Juvenile Dependency Petition.  Prior to this horrific afternoon my only exposure to the number ’300′ was a gladiator movie released several years ago.  Mr. Attorney warned me it would not be pleasant– we’d each receive a packet detailing my offenses several minutes before setting foot into the courtroom– and I honestly cannot express the anguish in words.  Said packet more closely resembled an encyclopedia than a collection of documents and it was the most biased, factually inaccurate, and damning material I’ve ever seen in my life.  It was as if [forgive this terrible analogy] I received notification that my parents, Maris, and Danielle were on a plane….that crashed with zero survivors.  The floor dropped out from beneath me.  I’ll be physically sick if I discuss it anymore.

The ‘Parent Partner’

My only reasoning for mentioning the absolute worst day of my life is to share with you a rather interesting exchange.  Despite our arrival over half an hour early– and the fact that we were sitting in a very visible spot– nobody [with the exception of the clerk who handed us our respective packets] ever approached us.  Yet the moment Mr. Attorney steps into the restroom, a woman materializes from thin air and takes a seat next to me.  She introduced herself, gave me her card and brochure, and sympathetically told me that she’s been in my position and knew what I was going through.  Immediately the warning signs started flashing in my head as her information clearly stated that she was a ‘Parent Partner’ WITH Child Welfare Services.  What a relief!  So you’re not the Gestapo but you still take orders from the SS, fair enough.  I politely engaged her in conversation knowing that Mr. Attorney would be very interested in our discussion upon his return.  He immediately asked who she was and received the card and pamphlet as well.  While I didn’t openly deny her services it was apparent I wouldn’t be putting her on speed dial.  She disappeared.  We took note of the organization after the ‘with’ on her brochure and he reminded me that this person was not my friend and I was to never contact her.

Our 300 petition in San Luis Obispo was conveniently scheduled at the same exact time as the hearing for my temporary restraining order in Paso Robles– even though CPS had known for days we were on the docket for the TRO [there was proof of service from both Will and CPS]– so we immediately returned to my neck of the woods after scheduling a hearing in juvenile court.  Imagine my surprise when I see my potential ‘partner’ waltz in….with Will.   Did I miss something?  Not only did she actually accompany him to court but she tried to speak on his behalf as if she was his attorney.

Why did we ever leave Memphis?

Can we say conflict of interest?

Please enlighten me as to how this works.  She’d obviously made previous arrangements to be Will’s ‘partner’ so how exactly was she hoping to escape the ethical conundrum associated with being a ‘partner’ to us both?  We’re not a happily married couple acting as a united front to get our child back…he has no problem whatsoever telling blatant lies and to this day he’ll bash me to anyone who will listen.  It is a huge conflict of interest to think that she could represent us both.  What if I’d actually said yes?!  This entire system is so disgusting.  Perhaps that’s why I’m a pariah and Will’s a saint [he's not glorified but they certainly don't mention anything negative about him], because of this spectacular ‘partnership.’  I’m not drinking their Kool Aid.  Let’s take a look at what I would have gained had I agree to these services.

“About Parent Partners – We understand that this is an extremely difficult and overwhelming time in your life.  We are here to help you:

  • Understanding the process of what is going on  [I'll give them credit on that one-- if I didn't have an attorney I wouldn't have the slightest clue as to what's happening so that's definitely a positive aspect of their group]
  • Help you move forward with the next step  [Is this before or after you report back to the social worker?]
  • Offer resources for services in your community [Again, credit for this one.  Though I would be highly skeptical of any 'services' as it forever ties you to the system]
  • Stand beside you as a mentor and peer  [I'd prefer my mentors to have integrity and professionalism versus being sneaky and operating with the knowledge of an obvious conflict of interest.]
  • Attend meetings with you for support  [Excuse me?!  You can attend a meeting with me but my attorney can't?!?!]
  • Help with transportation to and from meetings or appointments  [To set the stage for more hearsay dialogue?]
  • Connect you to other support groups  [I sincerely doubt there is a support group that could adequately address my issues with this process.  Maybe the Supreme Court?]

I will NEVER stop speaking about my ordeal until somebody investigates it thoroughly and comprehensively…and does the same for all cases.  Maybe one day I’ll even start an organization similar to ‘Parent Partners’ that doesn’t answer to CPS and actually advocates on behalf of parents– and more importantly the best interests of the children afflicted in these situations.

Does anyone recall a little boy named Adam?

Although I just devoted significant space to expressing legal frustrations, I truly feel as though I am one of only a small handful of people who care about Adam’s best interests.  I’ve been told by CPS they don’t care to do any further investigation because they “have their proof” nor do they have any desire to tell Adam why his parents aren’t around, which is just cruel.  I could sit here and write paragraph after paragraph about the injustices against my son….yet I think the examples I use speak loudly and clearly.

Although I was a single mother, we were never alone. Christmas '08

How does Will factor into all of this?

I’ve refrained from speaking of him as much as possible– and I just can’t stay silent anymore.  So many people inquire as to whether or not he makes me angry.  Aside from kicking me and calling me despicable names in front of our son, nothing he has done angered me.  Instead he is a giant disappointment. 

The power to make this nightmare end for our son rested solely in Will’s hands.  What did he do with that tremendous opportunity?  Squandered it.  We could have sent Adam back home to the loving grandparents who helped me raise him.  Yet he’d much rather see his child subjected to the endless loop of the system than to do the right thing.  In his eyes, placement of Adam with my parents is a victory to me meaning a loss for him.  Regardless of anything he says or does from this point forward he has made it abundantly clear his parenting approach.  It’s not an Adam-centric one as mine is….yet one that focuses on Mommy bashing and hoping the rest falls into place.

Will sent an email to our CPS worker.  It speaks volumes and I’ll break it down by sentence:

  • Sloane’s a terrible person.
  • Why is she persecuting me?
  • Please help me stop her from persecuting me!
  • My ‘parent partner’ says Sloane’s a terrible person too.
  • Oh and by the way– first mention of Adam– I’d like to see him more than once a week.
  • I want to be allowed at family functions so technically I can be around Adam but I won’t have to spend time because he’ll be playing in the backyard with his older cousins.
  • The “S.S. has the power to” let me around Adam more.  [Even he knows the role of the Third Reich!]
  • My public defender says Sloane sucks too and needs to be informed that the domestic violence charges will be dropped per “Marcy’s Law”  [Personally I'm going with my Victim Witness advocate who answers directly to the D.A. and says this isn't the case. Furthermore, Marsy's Law: " This measure amends the state constitution and various state laws to (1) expand the legal rights of crime victims and the payment of restitution by criminal offenders, (2) restrict the early release of inmates, and (3) change the procedures for granting and revoking parole" says Wikipedia.  So basically I benefit from this?]
  • Sloane’s an awful mother and human being and you are forgetting this!
  • “I miss my lil dude….and this just sucks.”

I understand that we arrived in California together.  Yet it is an egregious error to assume that Will was anything but an absentee parent with little to no interest in Adam from June ’08-March ’11.  He never paid a dime in child support nor made any attempts to visit his son.  The few times they talked on the phone happened only because I called and begged him to talk to Adam.  What a damn fool I was to think that we could be a ‘happy family.’  I let the idea of a nuclear family with Mommy and Daddy and two children cloud my rational judgement and I will spend the rest of my life regretting this.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

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Defeated

….but not going down without one hell of a fight.

This look will be permanently etched on my face until the birth of my daughter. Taken jokingly as an 'emo' shot several years ago it is now my default expression.

Nobody actually told me that but with the devastating news I received today they may as well have.  It’s a never ending cycle.  The phrase ‘why me’ is not in my vocabulary but I cannot help but wonder the purpose of all these tests and countless obstacles.  I clear one hurdle only to encounter three more….and they all multiply exponentially.

It should come as no surprise that I’m not uttering a word.  In fact, I don’t even know if I can bring myself to blog until the end of January.  I would say until Tatum’s birth but I’m sure I’ll be bored to tears because:

My doctor wants me on bed rest for the last month of my pregnancy. 

I’m at an increased risk for a pulmonary embolism [I didn't even ask what led her to that conclusion because I didn't want to have a heart attack and a pulmonary embolism in the office] and my blood pressure’s high.  That combined with all of my stress and anxiety issues moves my pregnancy into high risk category.  While I know that bed rest is the best thing for my health– and hopefully I can use that time to hammer out some paid freelancing– missing work upsets me greatly.  I planned to work until the week before my Monday admission to the hospital.  Now my paid maternity leave won’t cover much past my bed rest, sigh.  I won’t complain though.  At least I have a job waiting on me upon my return and weeks of time to be spent with my precious daughter.

Thankfully I can leave work knowing that I will have completed the end of year closeouts and my pet project– creating a computer database for a large amount of files and records that were previously paper only.  I would hate to have to leave behind any unfinished business for my substitute.  She’s the woman who trained me so I can rest assured that the office is being left in capable, familiar hands.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Adam, Chief of the Blackfeet

Tucked underneath the keyboard at my desk this morning I saw a notice from the post office saying they missed me over the weekend.  Apparently they required my autograph before I could collect an item from the Department of Social Services.  Of all the strictly confidential correspondence of a highly sensitive nature that’s come to me in the mail….I’ve never once had to sign anything.  Within a half hour of me calling to inquire I had the envelope in my hands.

Look at the gorgeous view from the Blackfeet lands in Montana

Lo and behold, it was acknowledgement of Adam’s Native American ancestry.  No wonder CPS acted with such haste!  Both of my children have a direct connection to The Blackfeet Nation– and I absolutely plan on registering them appropriately.  In addition to impact this could have on our current case, I’m excited to explore the opportunities associated with this new development.  How cool is it to think that my kids are a part of such an incredible culture?  Even if we’re not hopping on the next flight to Montana to set up shop on the reservation it is imperative to me that Adam and Tatum learn about their Indian heritage and have the appropriate reverence for its traditions and culture.

One thing that shocked me, however, was the complete lack of information on the forms.  With the exception of Adam’s maternal great-grandfather [the relative in question] I have never seen so many ‘unknowns.’  Because I knew full or partial information for virtually every unknown in the packet, I immediately called the clerk who handles Native American records at the courthouse.  We spent approximately 20 minutes on the phone  meticulously reviewing Will’s relatives, person by person, until she had ample information to get the materials in the mail by the end of the day.  Although I offered to phone Will’s maternal grandmother myself to fill in the some of the blanks, she said that what I gave her should be sufficient and she would call me if that wasn’t the case.  I didn’t hear from her again so I’m hoping when I follow up tomorrow everything went in the mail without a hitch.

The irony was not lost on me that I’m providing names, locations, and birth/death dates for family that’s technically not even mine.  Granted they will always be linked to my children– regardless of my marital status with Will– but wouldn’t they ask him these questions first?  When I mentioned this to my representative she told me that although she had made initial contact with Will that he didn’t know very much….and never got back with her as he said he would.

I’ve tried valiantly to remove my estranged husband from my blogging equation as much as possible but I just can’t stay silent about this.  Knowing how crucial this could be to our legal proceedings, why isn’t obtaining family information one of Will’s first priorities?  ADAM is the one who stands to gain from this new development and probably even Will too!  I’ve long since abandoned any hope of even remotely understanding his behavior and thought process….but this was a slap in the face.  Does anyone have my child’s best interests at heart?  Because I am a parent a small part of me will always feel the sting of disappointment–because I know my child deserves better– when Adam is let down by the adults he trusts.  Even if it’s not an outright betrayal, indifference and failure to cooperate can be equally damaging.

Isn't my new car breathtaking?

Thanks to a cancellation at the last minute I got to see a nurse practitioner at my OB/GYN’s office.  My homework for tomorrow is to get Tatum’s approximate weight from the ultrasound [since it was an elective procedure the records were not faxed to my doctor] and report back to them.  Based on belly measurements she’s growing rapidly, but my weight was the same as it was for the last visit.  Oh, and her head is pushing firmly into my pelvis.  What a delightful feeling to be my consistent companion for the next six weeks.

THERE WILL BE NO BABY SHOWER.  I know I’ve vacillated back and forth with this concept and tossed out at least four dates….but it’s just more trouble than it’s worth and I’m not adding to my stress.  If you wish to give a welcome to the world present for Tatum, the most helpful item would be a Target or Walmart gift card, though I did create a registry at Target.  It’s not comprehensive [and is missing some basic necessities which will come from other sources] so feel free to peruse that if you’re not the gift card type.  Please don’t feel obligated to get me anything– your love, support, and friendship is more than adequate– and trust me when I assure you that I understand how tight money is for everyone right now.

To end on a positive note, transportation should be within my grasp soon!  My phenomenal parents are helping me find a safe and reliable vehicle for my little family.  So maybe it’s not a Lotus Elise but that’s not particularly family friendly anyway.  ;)

Although I was fully prepared to purchase and assume insurance payments for a car [and I'll still be contributing significantly to the costs]– there was just no possible way it could happen before Tatum’s arrival– and now it looks as though the three of us will come home from the hospital to our cozy little apartment with our chariot in the allotted space.  Lousy as I feel praying about a material item, I hope and pray for a four-wheeled friend, as it would make our lives exponentially easier.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Terrible Awful: 2011 edition

No word exists in the English language to quantify how abominable, appalling, atrocious, bad, calamitous, deplorable, deplorable, dreadful, horrible, intolerable, miserable, repulsive, tragic, unbearable, and wretched year 2011 was for me.  Combine every adjective you just read and multiply it by a million.  That’s my year!  We’ll steal Minnie Jackson’s terminology and refer to it as the ‘Terrible Awful.’ 

Temporary catharsis is all I seek.  Factors beyond my control dictate the terms for certain grievances….and I have no choice other than to carry them with me into the new year.  Obviously there is a massive Terrible Awful that makes all others pale in comparison– and some of these seem more innocuous than others– but this is my time to complain.

Minnie's done somethin' Terrible Awful!

So let’s knockout my woeful [and oftentimes incensed] lamentations as quickly as possible.  Without further ado, 11 things I despised about 2011:

1)  Sloane versus Child ‘Welfare’ Services.  I’m not even going to dignify them with three sentences so we’ll end here at two.

2)  Never in my life do I want to make another appearance in a courtroom in the county of San Luis Obispo.  Much to my chagrin I can think of at least two more dates where I’ll be scheduled to appear.  Whether it’s custody issues, my divorce, or testifying in another case the legal process drags on ad infinitum.  This is neither the time nor the place for me to discuss why I’m a VIP in the courts here, but I wanted to take this opportunity to assure you that I’m not a criminal– my little wrists have never felt the cold metal of handcuffs!– nor have I been charged with anything.  I’m a law abiding citizen who has done nothing wrong, though as you can imagine from the categories I mentioned above this is seemingly endless red tape.

3)  My marriage came to a screeching halt.  While I’m not divorced [see #4], it’s completely over, and that upsets me tremendously.  Will and I were estranged for over three years of our marriage so I’m used to him not being in the picture.  Yet I was [naive and foolish] so hopeful that our daughter could allow us to have a fresh start….for a very intelligent woman isn’t that a stupid thought?  And it’s not myself I worry about– I’m fiercely independent and prefer being unattached– but my children.  They deserve a loving and attentive father who provides for them, a father who treats their mother with courtesy and respect even though they are no longer involved.  I want to be able to co-parent and have a dear friend in my former spouse.  Given the circumstances that simply can’t happen.  We’ll never be a Bruce and Demi.  The union of Sloane and Will didn’t just succumb to ‘irreconcilable differences’ or fizzle and fade.  How do I explain this to the kids?  “Sorry Adam, Daddy can’t come with you to Father/Son day at school because it violates the terms of the restraining order.” 

4)  Residency requirements are not my friend in the state of California.  Until the marriage is dissolved on paper, any custody issues are infinitely more complex, as is anything that pertains to domestic violence.  I want to give birth to Tatum and come to our cozy apartment to recuperate and spend quality time with my children.  My biggest concern should be separation anxiety from my infant when I return to work, not dealing with a divorce.  Because as luck would have it– of course!– I don’t exist on paper in the state of California until one day before Tatum’s arrival.

14 month old Adam in the CAR wearing his cow suit. I sure do miss my CAR. Having a CAR is a very nice thing.

5)  Being homeless– can we say major no bueno?  Granted, I was never on the streets panhandling and sleeping on cardboard…but there was a period of two and a half weeks where Adam and I lived in a motel.  I cannot even begin to describe to you how agonizing and stressful it is to not know where you are going to sleep past the next few nights, especially when you have a child.  The ‘transient’ time between my unexpected departure from the women’s shelter and my joyous arrival in my apartment was brutal.  And the troubles hadn’t even started!

6)  Would you be surprised if I told you I was unbelievably homesick?  Between a period of not having a home– literally– and being 3000 miles away from the place I’ve known as home for the first quarter century of my life.  The overwhelming majority of the amazing people I call friends are east of the Mississippi River clustered around the Hernando DeSoto Bridge [a.k.a. the new bridge].  I even miss Memphis.  Around here all the financial establishments sound so….corporate.  How could I possibly trust anyone with my personal accounting that doesn’t work for Mo’ Money Taxes?

7)  This is quite difficult to discuss but once upon a time I had a car.  Not just any car, a gorgeous BMW X3 in a dazzling silver color.  It was glorious.  Beyond glorious.  When I drove alone the speedometer went to 345943945435943 in no time at all.  When driving with Adam I trusted my safe and reliable vehicle.  Sometime during the hour where Alyssa and I were getting acupuncture in our ears [trying valiantly to cleanse ourselves of bad juju and stress less, unbeknownst to me, my car met its untimely demise while it was a certain someone's DUI chariot.

[[ Sidenote:  When I took this picture I moved his car seat strap down so he would smile.  It's clearly not secure and that's not how he rode while we were actually moving in the vehicle.  You can never be too cautious with clarifying these things. ]]

8)  Sloane, meet poverty.  There is nobody to blame for this except yours truly but I had zero savings when I needed it the most.  Even cheap motels get costly.  Come apartment time, I had to furnish it [though I received tons of generous gifts for which I am so thankful], and then they wanted rent again after already getting the first month and a security deposit?!  Then came the introductory bills for various places.  And Christmas.  Blah, blah, blah.

Absolutely no relevance to this post, but it's a cool picture

9)  This was a lousy, sickly year for my health.  Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritiually, I was simply not healthy– which understandably took its toll.  I should have known what to expect when I went for a ‘wellness checkup’ the second week of January….and slipped on a patch of ice dislocating my knee, almost tearing my MCL, and getting a swollen and inflamed meniscus.  Well then.

10)  What the hell was I thinking when it came to dating?!  My first ex of the year I wish nothing but the best for….it simply ran its course.  We were both reluctant to jump ship and it should have ended a lot sooner.  I thank him for handling it like a gentleman and having the courtesy and respect to not talk poorly of me, just as I do for him.  Next one of my very best friends and I tried our luck at being a couple for two weeks:  epic fail.  Then there was….I’m scared if  even mention it in too much detail I’ll hear a knock at my patio door and he’ll be outside with an ax despite the fact that he’s thousands of miles away.  He’s said it himself he’ll “never stop harassing me.”   Suffice it to say he’s a deranged stalker who is profoundly disturbing and highly unstable.  And finally there was that attempted reconciliation with Will.  That certainly ended well!

11)  People.  Behaving.  Badly.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

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