I don't need the cheese or the car keys.

The last two days have been filled, alternately, with angst and extreme joy.

Yesterday, an anonymous individual left the following comment on my blog. Here it is:

I'm leaving an anonymous comment because I love your blog & I'm afraid you'll read my comment and say I'm blocking that Miss Know-it-All Dumbass from my site.......and I wouldn't want that to happen. I just want to share this with you. I had a HORRIBLE relationship with my father, actually a non-relationship, hadn't talked to him in 10 years. I married a man whose father had died and he insisted that I start seeing my dad.... I said no, I wouldn't do it. My husband started driving us there when we were on the way somewhere else (because I wouldn't have gone willingly). He and my dad would visit and I'd sit, saying nothing. After awhile I figured something out -- my dad had done some awful things to our family, he hadn't changed, he certainly never apologized for anything, BUT he wasn't the kind of person who would sit around and analyze his actions so he did the best he could without many tools. He wasn't a reader or a thinker, he was a superficial, selfish person but he was my dad... and when he got sick I was glad I could be there for him because when he died I knew that regardless of the person he had been that I had done the right thing. I had no regrets, no guilt, I felt free. But if he had died and I'd kept away from him the regrets would be eating at me today. Here's the Miss Know-it-All dumbass part......you want the best for you kids, but what if you were an a*hole who just didn't get it and they never spoke to you again, sure you might deserve it but you wouldn't be aware of that because you're an a*hole, even so....it would break your heart to have your kids hang up on you and not visit...if Jason's mom could understand she'd change, but she can't, she's not an aware person even when it's hitting her over the head........the best thing you can do for Jason is to encourage him to communicate with his mother whether you can or not because when she dies it's his mother that's gone..... and even if he thinks it won't matter and it won't hurt and he'll have no regrets.......I bet he will... Read this & delete it, it's just for you. I enjoy your blog, I wish the best for you which is the only reason I wanted to say this -- you never know when it'll be too late.

I so wanted to address this. I wish whoever this was would have said who they are.

I've never blocked anyone from my site. Heck, I've only deleted three comments, ever. One was a person who called my husband a pedophile, one was a guy who just spammed me with really random, racist crap, and the third? Was this crazy slut-bag right here. And then I posted about her and offered her the opportunity to respond to me directly and she never did. But you know what? She still lurks around my blog all the time. (Hello? Site Meter! I see you. Yes you. In Garner, North Carolina. I know it's you! Smooches!)


Honestly, absolutely nothing about that comment was offensive to me and even if I was the type of person to ban people from my blog, nothing about that would make me want to ban this person. I thought it was a very heartfelt comment, and honest to Frog, I appreciate feedback about my life. You know? I'm just winging it here. I've fully admitted, at least ten times, I have no idea what I'm doing. None.

Really though, everything you said, anonymous, I've already thought. Even though I do not understand people like my mother-in-law, I honestly don't hate her. I feel very sorry for her because she did lose her son. And I wouldn't want to lose him and would never want to lose my own son.

My head gets all of this. My heart does not.

Last night, Jason and I sat and talked. For four hours. I cried. For four hours. Depression has taken over some parts of my life and parts of my life have become very dark. I put on a good face for the world. I'm not in such a black hole that I can't go to work, can't function, can't talk to people. It's not at that point, not yet, and I don't want it to get to that point.

Last night we talked. Last night he listened and did not offer suggestions or advice on how to fix things. Last night I opened up gaping, hurty wounds and let it all gush out.

Last night? I remembered why I married him. Why I love him so fiercely. Why I am so glad that I have him and that my children have him.

We talked about many things. One of them was his mother. I told him what this blog comment said and how I think this anonymous person really could be right. That maybe this woman just does not have the emotional capacity to realize how hurtful and awful she is. And maybe he should fix this. Because it kills me inside that I am causing him this pain.

He was quick to say that it was not my fault. But I know that if there had never been me? Then he would still have a relationship with his mom. That, for whatever reason, her hate for me is even more than her love for him. She loves him. I know that. But she hates me more.

He said I had not ever done anything to her. That I had been nothing but kind and gracious and all I ever wanted was to have a family who loved me and she had done nothing but be mean and cruel and hurtful and reject me.

I know all of that is true. I asked him why he felt she rejected me. And he said, what I knew already,

"She wanted me to marry someone without children and have children with them."

I cried. I sobbed. I wept.

Because I am broken, and that made me feel even more broken.

She does not know that I am infertile. She does not know that I would give nearly anything in this world to have a child with her son. That I dream of little brown haired boys with brown eyes and noses a little to wide for their faces and little girls named Abby who like to swing on swing-sets.

She doesn't know me. She doesn't know anything about me.

"I would give anything to have a child with you," I cried.
and he said...

"I already have children with you."



She doesn't know him either. She doesn't know us.

Because who wouldn't want that for their child? Who?