"Can we live away from daddy?" asked Savvy.
"Ya, daddy scary. Too loud. Mean to sisters." Chimed in littlest sister Posh.
"Don't break up the family mommy! You can't do that!" Yells Pixies and runs off to hide.
*sigh*
With no time to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, or even acknowledged that queasy feeling in my stomach slowly rising up through my throat....I give a task to two of the girls and head off to find Pixie. I fight back my own tears and feelings as I walk up the stairs to her room. I failed my kids and they're not even 6 years old yet. Great.
I asked Pixie why she thought a family could break. That phrasing alone stopped her tears and she turned to me, "What do you mean?" she asked. I wiped away her tears and sat her on my lap. "Family is unbreakable. No matter where your dad is or what he does, he's your dad. There is literally nothing in this world or the next that can change that." With that, and I swear to you it was this quick, Pixie straighten up and said, "Oh, okay! Then yes, can we live somewhere else? I don't want to be scared anymore but I'd miss daddy if he were gone." "Ya, me too."
Yes, I knew when my husband attacked my physically in front of the twins when they were 2 years old and I was pregnant with my 3rd daughter that they would keep that in their minds forever. 3 years have gone by and I still think about it daily. I sat in my jail cell and vowed in front of my pod of hookers and mates that I would never let him hurt my kids. I mean our kids. But he has.
Not with his hands, he knows I'd take them from him in a heart beat. But with harsh words, yelling, name calling, and general meanness. Breaking them down. Trying to break me down in front of them. I hoped they didn't notice his words to me, I hoped they'd see my reaction to it as I ignored him.
Hope is not the answer. It never was. Strength to take verbal and mental abuse is not strength either. I've been a coward to leave. Leave my SAHM position in life where I get to spend my days with my kids.
But I haven't been lazy, I haven't been just sitting and hoping. That's just not my style. I've been working on a plan, and I've been working on it for 3 years. It's finally coming together....this week. And I'm almost ready to share. But not just yet. I'm going to get down and ready, ready to serve the papers and and run if he gets physical.
Our bags are in the car, we have 2 places to hide, I have some money set aside, I'm down and ready.
It's time.
And I'm petrified.
