It was the Lil Pixie's first birthday - a milestone in more than one way. A year of her life, a year of surviving a tumultuous family wherein she became a pawn, and the fulfilment of my promise.
Unfortunately, the Moron did not become the father I hope he would be. No miraculous transitions into fatherhood occurred. His value or understanding of love did not happen, and in my heart, my road was forged.
It began a very strange morning, being awoken by a phone call by the Moron's mother (the apple sure didn't fall far from the tree in this instance). He got out of bed and took the phone call in the living room. I later learned he also got the Lil Pixie up and was preparing them to go to brunch with his Mother.
I had already gotten up with the Lil Pixie earlier, so was trying to get some more sleep - but there was something strange about the phone call. When I got up, I found the Moron trying to escape (again) with the baby, without telling me where he was going.
I felt different, braver, stronger, and dared asked him where he was going. When he replied that he had been invited out to brunch with his mom, I asked why I wasn't invited. Usually I am in the most avoidance of such confrontation, but something just didn't seem right, and with my new found boldness, I attempted answers.
It was winter, so it was just starting to get light out. I made sure the Lil Pixie was dressed appropriately, as the the Moron seemed oblivious to such things. Once again I asked why I wasn't invited, where he was going, etc. The Moron just utilized his trusty veil of non-acknowledgement (one drawn from his more immature arsenal of control tools) and was out the door.
I knew something was up... I just didn't know what...
Surviving abuse and everything else life throws at me...
