Bringing Home My Baby

This morning I was talking to Friss and he was telling me how he is getting a bit anxious and melancholy because soon they will transfer him to a lower level facility and he will be leaving the home that he has known for the last, what?, 10 + years.  He has friends there, it is comfortable, he knows the rules and how to navigate the place safely.  He has been happy and grown so much as a person and he will be sad to leave.

But moving means he is getting near the end of his sentence.  At the new camp he will have more freedom.  He hopes to once again get a full time job which he is looking forward to so he will be busy and have some money of his own.  (I currently send him about $500 two or three times per year.)  He will also have more recreational time so he hopes he can get more exercise.  He is excited but still it is hard to leave a place that you feel safe in.

As far as we know, if nothing crazy happens, they will release him in December of 2018.  On that day I will once again put my precious bundle into my car and bring him home for the first time.  He will get to see his new room and we will go shopping and buy him some clothes.  It will be like the birth of a baby only this time he can sit on the porch and have tea with me instead of whaling all night for no reason.  (Unless he wants to cry all night....I guess he can.)

He told me that they will give him some food stamps and some clothing vouchers so he won't have to break the bank when he arrives.  I think it is sweet that he is trying to be frugal but frankly I don't care what it costs; money isn't important compared to just having him home.

When I think about that day I get so overwhelmingly excited that I just cry and cry.  It will be so much like the birth of a baby.  A new start...together. 

I JUST CAN'T WAIT!

Friss Graduates

Today is the big day!!

Friss graduates from the "program".

The boy has been looking forward to this big event for months.  He talks about it all the time.  I am really excited for him.

Let me tell you what I knew about it before the graduation:
He entered the program last February.   They have to request to be involved and then they get approved and are moved to a special wing where ONLY the people in the program live.  The program then become there WHOLE life.  They don't have a job while in the program....if you want to do the program you have to quit your job.  The first month he wasn't even aloud to make phone calls.  He told me it was hard to complete and that generally 95% of the people who start end up dropping out.  (I never doubted he would stick with it.)  They challenge you to change your thinking and face ALL your weaknesses.  It is a life altering experience.   Inmates that graduate are looked very favorably upon by the parole board.  It is a HUGE plus on his record.

I arrived at 11 am as instructed and they checked us all in quickly with minimal scrutiny.  Once we got inside the inmates were milling around the room.  I walked right in and Friss hugged me and whisked me to a seat in the front row.  (I think I was the first person to come in....I was just so excited)

We sat in chairs side by side and held hands (a typical visit involves facing chairs and no contact) and talked and we both teared up a bit.  The anticipation was overwhelming.  This is SUCH a big deal for them.  We all waited for the last of the guests to arrive.  Some of the lower phase inmates brought us coffee if we wanted it.

While we waited Friss introduced me to Cindy the head of the program.  A lovely older woman who has dedicated her life to helping people.  He told me she has some health issues and was considering retiring but just couldn't give up her life's calling.  I am always in awe of people who can do this type of work and not burn out.  I know I could never do it.  I kept thinking these are good people, doing good things and making a difference in peoples lives. 

First they introduced all the directors of the program and then the 9 men who were graduating.  Then each man introduced his family that had come to visit.  Then, one by one, each man took the podium and gave a speech (maybe 10 minutes or so).  Each one telling about how their lives had been before the program and how they are now; how they are so happy that they chose to make the changes.  How life has so much more hope for them.  They thanked there families for supporting them.  More than one of them had me in tears and someone behind me passed me a tissue. 

I was so proud of Friss and all the men.  Many of them from broken homes in poor neighborhoods who had been raised in a life of crime.  My son is just a bright minded, lily-white boy who really didn't have nearly as much to "overcome".

They went on to hand out some awards and do some photos and then we all ate cake and mingled some more.   Friss introduced me to the guy he rooms with, the guy who can challenge him at a game of chess and his old boss from when he was doing computer programming.  He introduced me to his favorite facilitators and the boys who went to Buddhist call out with him.  Everyone was quite awesome.

I was the last to leave....it was around 3 pm.  I drove home so full of joy and hope.  It was a great day!!!

ITC classes as listed in the commencement brochure:
Phase 1 - criminality, substance abuse education and treatment, anger management,  AA steps 1 & 2.
Phase 2 - violence modules, substance abuse, AA steps 3 - 9.
Phase 3 - Commitment to change, impact of crime on victims,  AA steps 10-12.
Phase 4  - Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy, Self-Esteem, Relapse Prevention.
Phase 5 - Good intentions bad choices, Advanced relapse prevention, advance criminality.
Phase 6 - Chronic relapse prevention, character building, relapse prevention

Many of these men will never get out having been sentenced to life without parole yet they still have  chosen to lead a better life.  Some of them will go on to work in the program as facilitators and mentors.

Friss will hopefully get transferred to a lower level camp soon where he can get on a work release program and actually make some money. 

The Father that Changed his mind

Later that night the wife sent this response:
"I have no idea what you are talking about. it sounds as if  I told Randy he could not see your son, and that did not happen."

a) She says she didn't actually tell him....but doesn't say she isn't all for it though.  I may be splitting hairs but this response doesn't rule out the idea that she is behind his actions.
b) I never mentioned actually visiting the boy......so she read that into it which Friss thought proved she is certainly not clueless.

Now Randy indicated to me that his wife's family was part of the problem so I wrote her back and told her that and suggested that she discuss it with Randy some more.  I told her the boy was heartbroken and it is so very sad. 

Here is the thing, Randy is a meek little man that I am 100% sure just takes orders from his wife.  He is never going to stand up to her, it is not his style.  He wants NO responsibility in life and has happily handed it over to her.  I venture to say he is even afraid of her.

Also, he started all this shifty behavior towards the boy in the last year.....basically it started when he got married and moved in with the new wife.  Our son has been incarcerated since December of 2001 and his father has always visited and been supportive.   He even ran into the prosecuting attorney (many years ago) in a bar and gently told him off!  Why the hell would he suddenly change now?

I was still angry and "lubricated" with wine so I couldn't help but also mentioned how Randy unfriended me on facebook because of her and that I was still miffed at why she has animosity towards me.

She responded:
"Bloom, you have been perfectly nice to me.  I have never told Randy he could not talk to you or your son. I think you need to have a talk with Randy yourself if you want to clear this up."

I then told her that Randy point blank told me he unfriended me because she was angry that I comments on his posts and he was trying to keep the peace at home.  She never responded.  I went to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Randy tried to call me.  I really didn't feel like listening to him hem and haw some lame excuse so I didn't answer the phone.

I texted an apology and told him I would back off.  Logically I know that it is really none of my damn business what he does.  The kids are grown and he is remarried and I have no right to tell him what to do.

He kept calling back periodically throughout the day.

I finally picked up late in the afternoon........he wore me down.  He started giving me his excuse and said how Friss lost his trust and owed him so much, how he is worried he will be a bad influence on Monster and Ramone etc. etc. 

I just saw RED!!  The boy has done NOTHING new in 14 years so where does the man come up with this shit now!?!?!?!  Friss owes him?  He is a bad influence? I can guarantee this is shit the new wife planted in his head.  He obviously has NOT been talking to the boy and doesn't even know him anymore.

SOOOO.....because I can't stay calm when people are this FUCKING STUPID....I told him off big time about how Friss is a better person than he is and how we could all learn from him, and so on.  Then I told him to fuck off and hung up on him.  (I know...not the most mature thing to do.)

Just a few days ago I listened to Friss tell me how he forgives his father and will always have an open heart for him should he change his mind.  He spoke of being one with the universe and how cutting people out only harms your own heart and personal unity, etc.  This kid has been in therapy 24/7 for the last year and is THE MOST insightful, well adjusted and caring human I actually know in person IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD!  He is a practicing Buddhist and walks the walk. 

Randy followed up with this text to my phone:
"I just want to be clear, if you have an issue talk to me not my wife. She has never forbidden me to go see Friss or talk to him. I am having my own issues. It was a very difficult time for me and I just had to protect the kids from everything. I am so afraid he'll disappoint them. I tried to have a talk with Ramone and I don't think I got the point across. It is not my wife's thing. He has a long way to gain my trust. But it is between me and him. I will see him and talk to him. But please respect my decisions. My wife doesn't deserve my guilt or baggage. You know what I am talking about. It is not the first thing I talk about when I meet someone.  I have been by myself for so long and I think [wife name] and I can grow old together. I deserve to be with someone. But this is a serious strain. I know you have your own thing going on and I will always respect that. I know you are there for Friss.  I just think you need to know what I am thinking."

I am done with him and the new wife.  I am putting them out of my head.
I will do my best to never speak to either one of them again.
I know the boy will be fine....he has a level head and plenty of love from me and my family.

I suppose when the kids get married and have kids our paths will cross again.  I will be gracious if I am forced to be around them.

One of THOSE Days

You ever have one of those days where you witness an act of kindness and it restores your faith in humanity?

Well today I am having the opposite of one of those days!!  Today I feel like most people flat out suck and life is just shitty.

It started like any other Monday.  I dropped my daughter at school and headed to the Nursery to work.  Before I got there my boss texted me that he wouldn't be there until 11.  I was actually happy he let me know because more than once now I have driven all the way up there and he wasn't there so I couldn't get into my barn to work which is a total waste of my time!

A few weeks ago I arrived and the door was locked so I called him and texted him and he totally ignored me so I just ran some errands and then gave up on working for the day.  It was rude and I was a little pissed.  The next day he wasn't there either but he did answer my call and tell me he was on his way.
 
Anyhow.....when I finally did get there, Sarah was in the office with him; something I hadn't seen in a very long time.  (Maybe she was hiding due to shame.)  So the fact that she was there perked my suspicions.  She moved out of my chair and I sat down and started working.  A few minutes later my boss, Jacob, told me that he wanted to talk.  He then told me that he would have to let me go, that they just can't afford me, etc. (which is true, they can't afford me) I kind of thought this would be coming so I wasn't upset.  I was however a little offended that Sarah was there.  Was she his witness in case I went berserk?  What ever happened to a private meeting when discussing something serious like the termination of your employment?  I felt a little punched in the gut at the loss even though it was not a total surprise.  I had kind of hoped to get a new job and leave gracefully in the near future. 

Oh well.

I couldn't help but sit there wondering if they knew that I knew about them.  If his wife told him she talked to me.  If she did tell he didn't let on to it.  What a freaking mess his life is.  He really is pathetic.

I left there and headed to the construction company to drop off a book I had borrowed.  When I arrived they informed me that John had been sent home for hospice care.  I was pretty upset, but again, not surprised.  John is / was our trucking manager.  A really super great guy with kids and grandkids and even great grandkids.  He was diagnosed with cancer in January and has been going down hill very fast.  It is just heart breaking.  I so wish I would have given him a hug when I left the office last time he was there.  As I drove off that day I knew it was a mistake that I didn't.

Next I went by Kevin's office to collect a much needed hug.  He, of course, was awesome as I told him all the bad news.  He gave me a hug and told me everything would be OK.  I fussed that I was worried about money and he assured me we would be fine.  He even offered me some cash to be dramatic.  He is my rock!

Next I swung by Ramone's house.  She still doesn't have a phone!!!  Her new boyfriend (who I actually like) does have a phone so at least there is that.  They were home and I chatted with them for a bit.  Then Ramone told me that her father, Friss's adoptive father, had a talked with her the other day to warn her that when Friss gets out (in 3 years) that she is not to hang around him since he will be bad for her, etc. etc.  I thought to myself "she is more likely to be a bad influence on him!".  I was very shocked that he did this.  I didn't tell Ramone I was upset.  I just gracefully wound up the conversation and headed to my car.  In the car I thought I might call him and bitch him out but then I decided that was pointless.  Instead I just made a mental note to myself "He is dead to me now".  I need to learn to cut shitty people out of my life and not look back!

You see, I started dating their dad when Friss was only 4 years old.  After we were married he adopted Friss.  He is the only father Friss has ever known!!  He hasn't been to visit him in a long time and Friss has been telling me how disappointed he is that his dad is blowing him off.  His dad actually works close to the prison so it would be easy to stop by for a visit.  His dad recently got remarried and has evidently decided to turn his back on Friss.  What a gigantic POS!!!

I drove Monster to the gym today and asked him if his dad had said anything to him like he did Ramone.  He said he did not but he was quick to add that it was shitty and that if his dad made him pick between his "new" family and Friss he would pick Friss.

At 3 I met with my attorney.  She was the only bright spot in my day.  She is an amazing woman and I just love her.  She encouraged me to go back for child support.  I explained that he is not really sharing bills as we originally agreed to.  So after the move I will confront him and see if he wants to pay me the money he owes me or if we will be headed back to court.

Happy Birthday Friss

Friss, Me, Ramon and Monster

Today I took the two older kids with me to visit Friss for his birthday.

 My eldest child is now 32!!  WOW

 

There are very few pictures with all of us together so this one is pretty special.

(Except I hate the white t-shirt Friss is required to wear.)

Note that Monster is a BIG guy!

 

We had a very good visit.  It was so nice to spend time with all three of them. 

I really hope someday Kevin and I can have big family get togethers with ALL our kids and grandkids and I will finally have the big family I always wanted.

 

Meditation Class

My son Friss goes to weekly meditation.  The fine institution that houses him kind of forces the inmates to attend some sort of church services on Sunday and he finally settled on Buddhism.

I raised him Catholic and there are lots of things I actually like about Catholicism, but there are tons of things I don’t like either; like not allowing birth control is just bat shit crazy (especially when being drunk is totally allowed).

I don’t blame him at all for not being Catholic anymore.  I’m not either.  I’m glad he has found his path.  In all honesty, he does better than I do (emotionally), at everything in life. 

He says that the most important thing he has ever done for himself is his weekly practice.  And he keeps nagging me to get into the habit of meditating regularly.  And I agree with him that I should and I want to, but we all know my life is one scramble after the next and I just never make the time to work on it.

He told me he never would have made the time either and he was very grateful that the correctional system allocated the time for him.  Best thing that ever happened to him.

So when he found out that the local “chapter” of Buddhist here in town is hosting an Introduction to Meditation class, he urged me to sign up AND I did!

I am really excited and a bit scared and nervous.  This is a new thing in a new place with new people.  Friss knows the instructor and just loves him and per our email conversation the instructor gets a kick out of Friss too; always nice to hear good things about your offspring.

I think this is going to be huge.  I think this is a big move in the right direction.

So starting this Wednesday evening I will be heading to my meditation class!!

Depression and Compassion

All weekend I have been depressed.  All weekend I have just felt so lost and empty; that the world is too much, that it is all too hard.  I found myself praying that I would not wakeup in the morning which is something I have not done in a long time.

Husband was nice this weekend….for the most part…..this time it isn’t his fault that I am down.  No, actually it is the combination of the school shooting in Connecticut, my own teenagers acting like fools, Christmas time of the year and my propensity to be self loathing when I feel that I am not the best person I can be.  I’m feeling extremely self critical.  And, in order to combat this depression I drank too much wine….so now I can feel crappy about that too.

When you have a child you experience a bond that is on a deeper level than any other bond.  All you parents out there know what I am talking about.  I am sure, to a large extent; this is Mother Nature’s way of ensuring we care for our offspring so our species will continue to thrive.  But still it is a real emotion and we all feel it.  You have a baby and the world changes…your focus changes and in so many ways you put them before you.  You would do almost anything to ensure they are happy, healthy and grow up to be productive decent citizens.  This devotion also has an emotional price because if anything should happen to your child you will be devastated.

My first born didn’t make it.  He is spending 15-20 years in prison.  I failed at raising him to be a happy, healthy productive decent citizen.  As a mother it hurts…..to the bottom of my heart it hurts.  It hurts to see his life like this and it hurts because I feel I should have done better.  I should have saved him.

Add to that the fact that when his “life” ended it was one week before Christmas and that has forever left a bad taste in my mouth for Christmas.  I will always associate Christmas with loss, death and sorrow.  And now 28 families in CT….hell the whole town…..will also associate Christmas with loss, death and sorrow.

I know how quickly life can change.  I know what it is like to have to get rid of all your child’s belongings because they won’t be coming home.  I know what those families are going through and my heart aches for them.  So much so that I can’t shake this deep despair that has sunk in and the more the news coverage goes on and on the worse it gets.  I have got to stop turning on the radio and the TV.

As a bonus this Christmas, Monster and Ramone are teenagers, nineteen and seventeen years old.  They are at the age where they can and probably will make life altering mistakes.  They are also getting too old for me to *make* them do the right thing.  All I can do is offer advice and hope they listen while I stand by holding my breath and hoping they will be lucky enough to not really fuck up their whole lives.  I am scared to death for them because I know they don’t get it and by the time they do it might just be too late.

Saturday night Monster called me (wait it was Sunday morning at 3 am) with some very lame stuff that he was upset about.  He told me he was in a fight and I could tell he had been driving drunk.  I am so scared for these kids I can’t sleep!

Another thing that has me stewing is the fact that the gun enthusiast are using this as an occasion to push for MORE guns; which seems like a ridiculous idea to me.  I am not blaming guns for what happened because I do believe that people kill people not guns.  But a gun did make it easier for this mad man to kill MORE people…..so gun restrictions make more sense to me.  You will never convince me that arming teachers will make schools safer.  That is just plain nuts.

Then there are the people who are saying that we have turned our backs on God and that is why this has happened.  To them I say……because no Godly person ever goes nuts?.....because people can’t be decent human beings without God?....because all morality is rooted in the bible?  I guess I am just offended that so many people seem to think that you can’t be a good person unless you believe in their God; especially since I seem to see so many cold hearted hateful things coming from people in the name of religion.  I am not trying to bash God or say that all religious people are hateful just that it is not the miracle cure we are in need of. It is just not that simple. More wars have been fought and more people killed in the name of God….so don’t tell me that God is the solution to violence.

Last but not least, there are the political views that are also getting pushed using this shooting as an opportunity.  Shame on you all for taking such a terrible tragedy and trying to turn it into your chance to push your political beliefs on others.

I don’t have the answers and I understand that emotions are high right now in all of the camps.  But, what I really would like to see is compassion for ALL involved.  And for more people to say “what can I do to make the world a better place….how can I help?”  The real question is how are we as a society not helping these people who most obviously are not OK.  It’s about mental health and how we are falling short in the care of those in need. 

And one more thing….school are still safe.  The odds of your kid getting shot at school are like infinitesimal.   STOP freaking out!  I don’t want our kids locked in….I don’t want armed guards.  There has got to be a better way!

Fear of The Police

This morning a cop car pulled into the parking lot as I was socializing with my friends after our usual am run.  Upon further examination I realized it was Tater; a fellow cyclist and triathlete that I know from our Thursday bike rides.  He and I have recently gotten to be pretty good friends.

He is a super nice guy and I was happy to see him.  BUT, he was in uniform….in a black and white sedan. I have never seen him in his work clothes and this was not really cool for me.  You see, a few years back I had a run in with a crazy state patrol officer (Story Here) and ever since then I have been deathly afraid of interactions with law enforcement.  I was already a bit predisposed to aversion to the whole justice system thanks to my son having been arrested and so publicly tried back in 2001.

So this morning, as people went over to great Tater, I too walked up to say hi.  I didn’t want to appear rude.  At the car Tater was talking to other people so I just sort of stood there.  I peered into his car and saw the computer rigged in the middle of the front seat and all the other policeman gear in there.  I looked at the back seat with its barred windows and I suddenly felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and I couldn’t breathe.  I walked away quietly and quickly, back to my friends who were standing much farther away.  I put my back to the car and tried to control my breathing.  Stina asked what was up and I told her I was having a mild panic attach.  I kept trying to calm myself; breathing deeply and doing my best to appear under control.

I knew I needed to think about something totally different, to not envision the car in my mind.   I think I started talking about open water swims or new shoes or something to distract myself.  I started to feel better.  I stood there for a long time, trying to relax and hoping Tater would move on.  I needed to leave but the patrol car was between me and my car.  I really wanted to escape the whole cop car scene.

After what felt like an eternity I made the decision to just leave….to say hi to him quickly and keep walking.  I walked up to his patrol car and with a chirpy happy voice said “hey Tater, so happy to see you, but your car is kind of freaking me out so I need to leave now.”   He knows about my fear of cops and he didn’t seem surprised by my comments.

I waved and walked to my car and got the hell out of there.  I drove Sean back to his house and as soon as I dropped him off and I was alone in my car, I started to feel sick to my stomach again.  It was really really bad now and I slowed my car down, ready to pull over.  I was sure I was going to throw up.  (I actually wondered if I didn’t just have a stomach virus.)  Then I took control of my mind and made it think of something else; again, getting my mind out of the cop car zone.  I took some deep breathes and then my stomach settle just enough that I thought I might make it.  Much relieved.

I continued to drive to work and continued to force myself to think of anything but that police car.  I did find it interesting that Tater didn’t seem to bother me nearly as much as his car did.

At work, Tater texted me and told me he just stopped by to see how I would react.  He told me he wants to help me overcome my fear of police.  I know he means well, but he really doesn’t know the whole story; about Friss and all.  He has no idea how deep my fears run and how messed up my head really is.  I have done my best lately to make new friends and appear to be the most normal, sweet, girl I can. 

Tater is such a nice guy with big shiny bright blue eyes.  If he weren’t so nice and so darn cute, I certainly wouldn’t even want to be his friend knowing he is a cop.  Then again I do feel braver for having befriended him!

Anyhow, I am a pretty messed up person…….physical reaction was pretty severe. 

A Food Visit and A Broken Nose

At 3 am my phone rang.  It jolted me out of a sound sleep.  I looked at the screen and saw it was Monster.  As a mother you know that a 3 am phone call can’t be good news and you MUST answer it because your child may really need you.

I picked up the phone and the boy sounded calm….a good sign.  He then proceeded to explain that he and his buddies had gone out to a comedy club and then after went back to his friend Trevor’s to hang out.  Then someone got the bright idea to mess around with the boxing gloves and now he was in the hospital with a broken nose.

I was so relieved…..that no cops were involved and the car had not been wrecked AGAIN.

In my sleepy state, after my initial feelings of relief all I could think to say was “what is it about you and your sister trying to mess up your face?”  Probably not the best choice of words but then again I never seem to choose the right words at the right time.

Anyway he assured me he was in good hands and that I did not need rush to his side.  (Good thing to because he told me he was at the emergency room I will NOT go to if you know what I mean; bad memories.)  He had already called his dad.  They were getting a plastic surgeon to look at him.  He said he would still be going to see Friss with me in the morning.

I signed off and expressed my displeasure to my husband who in turn told me it was an accident and I should be more sympathetic.  I know he is right but still, it is frustrating when you raise these kids and try so hard to keep them looking presentable (dermatologist, braces, regular dental care, etc.) and then they go and mess it up being drunk and stupid.  I had visions of Jan Brady in my head.

I did actually go back to sleep after a short period of reminding myself that being upset is pointless.  Good for me.

In the morning, I got up and prepared to go visit the birthday boy.  I had to package up all the food in the required containers, the required way so it would pass inspection.  I had purchased quite a few really tasty items and the biggest hit was the key lime pie from Hy-Vee.  You can buy it by the slice and it was divine.

I picked up Monster on the way and he looked much better than Jan Brady.  What a relief.  We drove the hour plus to the correctional facility in pouring rain and my poor old tires are low on tread so it was a bit sketchy.  By the time we got there the weather cleared up and we got checked in pretty quickly.

Most of you probably have no idea how a visit in a prison works so I will describe what it’s like.  After they check your ID and wave the metal detector wand over you (less security than at the airport mind you) they then let you find your way through a series of large metal doors with guards that buzz you thru.  At the end is a large room like a cafeteria with knee high end tables to sit at.  Each table has up to 4 resin type lawn chairs at them where you will sit while visiting.  There is a bank of vending machines against the wall and a few dinky microwaves on the counter to heat a sandwich or pop some pop corn.  There is an area in the corner with a TV set tuned to the cartoon network and they put the children visitors there.

Of course there are rules about touching and what you can wear.  And only one person at a time can get up from the table to go to the vending machines.  The prisoner is not allowed up at all.

After you get to the “cafeteria” they assign you a seat and then you wait for your loved one to come through another set of heavy, clanky metal doors.  It seems like it takes forever for them to arrive since they must be located in the facility and then ushered to the visiting room and before they enter they are searched and change their clothes.

I usually sit in the chair watching the door like a starving dog watching a man eat a steak.  Each time it opens I get my hopes up, quickly judge if it is him or someone else and then relax again and wait some more.  Finally he comes in and I am so happy to see him.  He spots us and walks over and we all exchange the allowed one big hug hello before sitting down.  Beanie is shy at first and won’t hug him.

We spent the next few hours feeding him food and talking about everything we could think of.  Sometimes talking over the din of other people talking gives me a terrible head ache but I just try to ignore it.  Beanie gets bored after an hour or so and I find her a coloring book to play with.  Before too long it is time to leave again and I always feel terrible because I know he wants us to stay longer.  But Monster has a test at school and Beanie needs her nap so we get our hugs goodbye and check back out the way we checked in.

On the drive home Beanie falls asleep and when we pull in the garage she wakes up and gets angry

at me for taking the short cut home and cutting her nap short.  I told her we drove for a long time but she didn’t believe me.  We went in the house and I put the TV on for her and took a quick nap on the couch.  I was wiped out.  It is always taxing on me going to see him because I worry too much that something will go wrong and we won’t get in.  It is heart breaking to drive all that way and then get turned away for some silly little reason.

Today was a very good visit and I know he was thrilled to see us.  Happy Birthday Friss...Mama loves you!!

Happy Birthday Friss

Today Friss turns 30. I really can’t believe that I have a 30 year old child. Part of me is so excited and proud. I want to throw a huge party. But of course part of me is a bit sad too.  I really can’t throw him the party I would like to.

Tomorrow Monster, Bean and I will go visit him and take him some special food. He has requested Pad Thai and green bean casserole specifically and then I usually bring other goodies like fresh fruit, decadent deserts and whatever else looks crazy good at the deli / store.

A few years ago I took him some ribs. He gobbled them up and told me he had never had ribs before. How did that happen?

I might talk my husband into making a loaf of fresh bread. I know that would be a hit.

I really don’t know what to say except it is an emotional day for me. I love that boy so very much (as all moms do) and I am proud of the man he has become.

Friss Today

So Friss has been behind bars for a little over 10 years now. In May, he will turn 30. How scary to think that every single day of his life in his twenties he was incarcerated. He will probably be behind bars for at least another 6 years.

When they first sentenced him, I thought it was the end of his life. I had visions of gangs in prison and him learning to be tough or be victimized. I had concerns that he would develop no social skills and would become a “hardened” criminal by the time he was released.

I am happy to report that he is doing well actually. He lives in the honor wing where only the best behaved prisoners are housed. Alli thinks he lives in an “institution”. He loves when she comes to visit him.

Friss has a job doing computer programming. He had to earn it too. He had to wait on a list and do kitchen duty for years. And he is really really good at it. He is bright and capable and wins his team awards. He has been told by outside consultants that he should look them up when he gets out because they would hire him in an instant.

For fun he reads books, plays chess and volleyball. Of course he watches TV and movies too. You know, they are not allowed to watch R rated movies! Ha

He is a practicing Buddhist and admittedly has found much more inner peace than I seem to be able to muster.

I am so proud of how he has handled his life behind bars and how he has matured into an amazing young man. I look forward to the day I can pick him up and bring him home and put this whole chapter of his life behind us. I honestly believe he will be fine.

I can’t wait to have him finally be able to join his family for dinner at home!!

Guilt

After Friss went to jail you know what I could not get out of my head?
The nagging idea that I was the adult and I should have been paying closer attention.
That I should have done something to prevent this.
That I only lived a few miles away but I was not there to avert this disaster.
I felt it was my fault.
And for years it just tore me up.

I would dwell on it too much and hate myself. I would think about how my grandson must have felt and just come apart inside. The raw pain I would feel was overwhelming.

Once I went to visit my niece and see her new baby. She handed me the boy and I just lost it. I broke down and started crying with BIG heavy sobs. Everyone just froze. For years I could hardly look at a baby or I would breakdown.

I remember one time I was out jogging on a local trail and I heard an ambulance. Suddenly I was overcome by this combination of panic, guilt and pain. It was all so real and raw just like it was happening right then. (PTSD?) I had to stop and take a deep breath. I felt so overwhelmed and I just told myself to push it out of mind and I did. I had to. It was the only way to breath. I remember that day because it was the first time I really felt I was gaining control and pulled myself back together fairly well.

The only shred of self respect I could muster was the fact that I had tried to prevent the whole thing by insisting they use birth control. At lease I did something. They weren’t ready to be parents. They couldn’t take care of themselves, much less other people. I tried to stop it. I tried to do the right thing. No one else did.

Many years later, I went to visit Friss and I was crying and telling how much pain and guilt I was still having. He looked in my eyes and smiled and he said “Mom, you have to forgive yourself….It’s the only way you will ever start to heal.” The boy was right. He is smart and sensitive and I love him so very much.

Up until now, I could not write this story up. The fact that I have now done so is a good sign. Now, I can honestly say, I am adjusted, mostly healed. I still started crying like 4 times typing this page, but I don’t cry that often anymore. I don’t think about it anymore. I just can’t.

Justice?

Christmas is a stressful time of the year.

Supporting a family with a part time factory job and burger joint job is also hard.

A girlfriend that can’t understand why you can’t provide her with a middle class lifestyle even though she encouraged you to drop out of high school is also stressful.

Small children are VERY stressful.

There was a fight and she left. The older boy was at his fathers. The toddler was crying and emotions were high.

He never shook the baby…..he told me that……many times.

I don’t know exactly what happened…….I don’t want to. The details are not important.

The young man, the teenager, was upset and the baby was not treated properly. It was wrong. It was fatal, it is unforgivable, but, it is understandable.

My son is not a killer. He did not want to kill anyone.

He loved that boy more than anything in the whole world and he will forever pay for the crime in his heart no matter how many years he spends behind bars.

The prosecuting attorney made it out like my boy was a monster. He’s not. He’s human. He’s a regular kid. It could happen to anyone. I was a split second of bad decision making. The prosecuting attorney is a monster if you ask me for the way he treated us.

Later, they sentenced him to the maximum time in prison. The girlfriend was there leering at him (and me) the whole time. She couldn’t wait to talk to the media, to get the attention, to cry about what a victim she was. She milked it cause, remember, she was always looking for attention.

About the same time I read in the paper where this hockey dad had picked a fight with another hockey dad at a little league game. The blows one man dealt the other were fatal. The man was sentenced to 5 years in prison. Now, you tell me why a man who can beat another full grown man to death in public is less of a criminal or threat to the public then my son who in a moment of grief and stress fatally wounded his son. I can guarantee you it is not something that my son would ever do again. I wonder if hockey dad has ever picked a fight before…or since?

I agree he should have been convicted and sentenced....I just don't agree with the details.

My First Born

When Friss was a baby he was very colicky. Being my first, it was a big deal and I struggled with how to handle it. I felt terrible just putting him in his bed to cry, but nothing seemed to sooth him. I remember reading a quote that was something like “no baby ever cried to death” which actually made me feel much better.

As he aged, he was active, bright, capable and stubborn. When he was only two years old I took him to the playground and he climbed to the very top of some jungle gym and a nice mother said “hey lady, your baby is at the top!!!” I know she thought I would be upset or worried but I replied “that’s OK, he is an excellent climber.” I knew he would not fall, he never did.

By the time he was 4 I had only one concern. He would not sit still and watch TV. He never did. I thought this was odd. I even mentioned it to his pediatrician. She said he was just an active boy and it was no big deal. But, it was the first time I remember feeling that there was something different about him.

His first Kindergarten parent teacher conference really caught me off guard. I knew my son was sharp and walked in there with no expectations that anything would be wrong. Instead, the teacher told me had to sit in the far corner because he was a disruptor and that he broke all his crayons into small pieces. I was seriously shocked. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do because he was fine at home.

A few years later I had a teacher call me and ask me if Friss had rules at home. I thought it was a rude question actually and I assured her that he did indeed have rules at home and he was not a problem for me. I ran a strict house and kept a close watch on the boy. I would later realize that I had him figured out and I knew when he needed someone to step in and help or direct. His teachers were not nearly as adept and admittedly had a whole room of kids so were spread thin thus he was often left to control himself which was not his strong suit.

In the 3rd or 4th grade (can’t remember which) his wonderful teacher phoned me to tell me she suspected he had ADD and that she wanted to get him tested. We did have him tested and what do you know, he did have ADD. I set about educating myself on this new to me “disability” and devoured books and articles like they were my last meal. He was a textbook case. It all made more sense. Even the parts where you figure out that you too have the same thing. Yes, I have ADD also. But when I was a kid there was no label or diagnosis for such a thing. I just made due.

About this same time I decided to put the boy in swim lessons. I signed him up at the local YMCA. I took him to the first class and they asked me what level he was. I said “I don’t know? He has never had a lesson.” She said he would have to start at the lowest level, Pollywog, and work his way up. This seemed silly to me because he could swim. He swam well. In fact, I was hoping he would get some stroke help. Well the lady assured me that if he was good in a level, they would advance him to the next level right away. Not sure, but I want to say a normal session is about 6 or 8 weeks long. During this session, the boy was advanced from Pollywog to Minnow to Fish and on to Flying Fish and finally to a Shark. He completed ALL the levels in one session. The kid was gifted like that. I was used to it so I didn’t even realize how incredible it was! (My other kids took years to get through all the levels.)

Soon after his ADD diagnosis I put him in the Catholic school system. He thrived there. They had what he needed; strict rules, high expectations and swift punishments. Not wishy-washy public school crap. I was happy to see him doing better at school. We still had small issues, like forgetting to bring a book home, but we were working on them. Also, the boy started taking Ritalin which, by the way, was a miracle drug for him.

All the boys that went to St. Blaise joined the soccer team and the baseball team. Friss was always a good player, but not so great at being part of a team. He always struggle to make and keep friends which is very typical of an ADD kid since they speak before they think way too often. But, one day when the normal pitcher was not available the coach asked if anyone wanted to pitch. Friss said he did and stepped up to the mound and started throwing darn good pitches. From that day on, he was the relief pitcher. He never practiced and he was good. I used to tell him “just think how great you would be if you would practice!” But he never wanted to.

When he was in high school (back in public school) he started teaching himself about computers in his spare time. He taught himself programming languages and I assumed that someday he would be a great computer tech guy and make good money.

He still struggled in relationships though and once even got suspended for telling a teacher that “she might be less angry if she was not so fat.” Another time he got in huge trouble for throwing a penny down the hallway. And, my favorite was when he got suspended for putting his hat on in the building on the last day of school 3 feet from walking out the door.

He also got his IQ tested, one point shy of genius. He blamed the noise in the hallway for distracting him.

(The photo above is Friss and I circa 1985...dig the hair!)

A Baby

<----Friss when he was 1 year old.

They broke up shortly after that phone call to her father about birth control. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. Dodged a bullet with that one.

About 9 or 10 months later (long enough I had forgotten all about her) we found out that Tracy was going to have a baby. Friss had not seen or spoke to her since she lived in a different town but of course he suspected it might be his so he tracked her down. She told him it was indeed his child. He then did anything he could to make right with her and be a part of the child’s life.

Me, being the old jaded person that I am, told him to slow down a bit. The math was such that he might not be the father and he should not get too carried away.

He was there when the boy was born and Tracy’s father cornered him and made him vow to be a good Christian if he wanted anything to do with the child. Seriously her family did not say anything that didn’t involve being “Good Christians”.

Friss set about getting an apartment, 2 jobs and supporting Tracy, her older son, and the baby.

When the baby was just a few weeks old I had it DNA tested. I just did not want my boy to get his heart broken if the child was really not his. It did turn out that Preston was his baby and in no time the little guy sprouted fuzzy blond hair and was the spitting image of his father as an infant.

Birth Control

You do the math!! Yup, I had Friss when I was in high school. Do I think it’s a good idea? Hell NO!!

So, from the time my son first kissed a girl he got lectured on birth control. I preached, I pushed, I purchased. I did anything and everything I could to prevent my family from having another teenage pregnancy.

And the boy did well. He understood and respected the whole concept. His first “real” girlfriend, Audra, got on the pill and we never had a problem. I always made sure my son had condoms, just in case.

Then, he started dating this older girl. She was divorced and had a young son. She was already graduated from high school and for some reason decided that she wanted my son to be her next husband and set about making him into that role.

She had her own apartment that her parents had secured for her. It was government subsidized since she did not have a real job and was living off some child support and government aid.

She didn’t live in town, it was out in the country and at some point my son decided to move in with her and drop out of high school. Teenagers are stupid that way. At the time, I saw no choice but to let him learn the hard way. (Just so you know, he later did get his GED on the first try, never studied, just smart.)

At some point I asked the boy if he was being careful not to get her pregnant and he told me that she refused to use birth control. WHAT!!!! Mama is freaking out!!!

I told him to refuse to have sex then. Ha ha right..like a teenage boy can say no. So I asked him why she was being that way. I offered to buy her the pill if she hated condoms. I offered to pay, if it was the money. I offered to drive her, if it was lack of transportation. I quizzed him why she would be so irresponsible knowing she could not support the child she already had. He agreed with me and said she couldn’t afford a couch much less another kid. He said he was feeling really stuck in the middle.

BUT, he told me that she liked the attention of being pregnant and having a small baby and wanted another baby. I told him that was ridiculous and set about doing something about it.

I dug around until I figured out a way to contact her parents. I was pretty sure they didn’t want their 23 year old daughter to have another child so maybe if I could enlist their help we could get some sense in the girl.

I remember clearly getting a hold of her father on the phone one day and explaining to him everything I knew. You know what he said?!?! He told me that he had just moved her out and was not in the mood to deal with her. He told me she was immature emotionally and maybe a bit developmentally stunted, she thinks like a 13 year old. He told me they were good Christians and that she would not have sex outside of marriage. This after she already had a child and I was pretty sure she was pregnant before that wedding. The man just wanted to ignore it!!!

The Car

At some point I realized I needed to find his car. For a while I assumed the police had it or something like that. Then I realized that if they did they would tell me. In a flash it came to me where the car might be.

I drove to my son’s apartment and began to retrace his steps. I thought about where the closest hospital was and then drove there. I found the big red sign that says EMERGENCY and turned the corner into the parking lot. And there, right by the emergency entrance doors, was his car. My heart skipped. It had been sitting there for weeks, right where he had left it. Why did it take me so long to figure that out? See, I was just out of it. I am sure I cried when I found it. I cried a lot back then. To this day, it is still hard for me to drive by that corner.

The car was locked and I would have to get someone to help me bring it home. I looked in the window and there was a child’s pillow in the back seat. Again, my mind collapsed as I could imagine him driving to the hospital with his baby boy in the back seat…..knowing it was not good but clinging to the hope that he would live; that he could be saved. I could only imagine how scared he was as he walked the little body through those big glass doors. The last free steps he would take.

I did retrieve the car and clean it up and sell it to a fellow I worked with. He drove the car for years (Honda Accord) and would tell me over and over how it was the best car he ever owned. A few years back I ran into him at the grocery store and he told me that he finally sold the car to a woman and that the women still rants about what a great car it is. I guess I am happy that his car went on to make other people happy. Is that weird?

It was 2001 When I Got The Call

It was 2001…..I remember because it was the same year as 9-11. About a week before Christmas at 5 am, I got a phone call from my ex-husband. Because he works for Child Services he had received a courtesy call from the police. He broke the news to me that my son was in jail and that my 11 month old grandson, Preston, had died.

The feeling that hits you is impossible to describe. It is pain, disbelief, panic, regret, shock, horror, and much much more all rolled into one. You react physically. Your body just moves. Your brain hurts. You try to think of a way out but you are trapped there in a reality that is pure horror.

I remember I was in my bedroom. Rocco had just left and I phoned him on his cell phone and he came right back. I cried, I ached, and he held me. My mother mind strained to find a way that I could fix it and make it OK for my child. It is what we do; we try to fix things for our kids. We don’t want them in pain or trouble. We want them to have long, good, happy lives. Then I had to face the idea that I can’t bring someone back to life and there is no undoing this EVER!!

I made a few phone calls….I don’t remember who they were. I think I may have called my boss. I know I called Tracy, my grandson’s mother and she confirmed. I know I was hoping it was a misunderstanding…..that it wasn’t true. But it was true. I apologized as hard and as deep as I could yet I knew that there was no way it could ever be enough. I don’t remember what else we said.

I didn’t know any details at this point about what had happened or how it had happened. I sat on the floor in the bedroom for a while and realized I could do nothing at this point. Nothing. So I got dressed and went to work. I figured that if I was at work I would have something to do to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn’t go completely nuts thinking in my own head.

In all honesty, I don’t remember a lot of what happened in the next few weeks and months. I look back now and realize I was way more traumatized than I wanted to believe; then I wanted other to know. I wanted to be strong and capable and not be taken down. But truly, it was just another step in a huge fall that I am still climbing out of to this day. And, although it is hard for people to understand, you never look at the world the same again. You never look at your kids the same again. It changes everything.

At work, a co-worker and friend (fellow cyclist) came and sat in my office. He said “I can’t believe you’re here!” I looked at him wondering why he would say such a thing. I asked him why and he told me that it was on the news, that everyone knew. I hadn’t even considered the possibility. How stupid am I? No matter, what was I supposed to do….what difference did it make? It was all way out of my control. I would just have to ride this one out. Like a bad acid trip.

Christmas was a blur. The baby’s mother moved out of their apartment, back home I assume. Her family was mad at me and she had never liked me in the first place. Mainly because I didn’t like it that she got pregnant on purpose (this story is another post). I gave her space, out of respect. After she was gone I negotiated with the landlord and cleaned out the apartment. I went about taking care of business.

My son’s attorney told me to go ahead and give his clothes to the Salvation Army. That was hard. I gave away some of his furniture and threw a lot of stuff away. Finding Preston’s socks and little diapers in their home as I was cleaning brought me to tears. It was all so cruel; the reality of it.

I carefully packed my entire son’s life into boxes for him hoping that someday he would get out and need it. I put his photos into an album. I made copies of the photos of Preston for me, Friss and even Tracy. I packed his keep sakes, his collections, his trophies and Boy Scout awards; his Christmas ornaments and his favorite books. (I have since told my husband that if I die to keep those green bins under the basement steps for Friss when he gets out.)

I attended the funeral. Her family sneered at me as though I was the bad guy. No people, I am a victim too but you are all too backwoods fucking stupid to get that. He was my grandson and I had a right to be there. The little, itty bitty casket just tore me up. Something no one should ever have to see.

After some time I realized that I didn’t know where his car was. Tomorrow I will tell you how I found it.

The Day I Got Hauled Off to Jail!

It was a Tuesday morning (4-14-09).  I got up at 5 as usual and ran six miles with my friends.  After the run, I jumped back in my car and headed for home.  On the drive back I noticed I was running a bit late and I was considering whether or not I should skip my cup of coffee and head straight to the shower in order to save myself 5 minutes getting ready for work.

As I neared the road that I live on, I saw a car driving oddly slow up in front of me.  As I got closer I realized he was about to stop completely right in the middle of Rt. E, a two lane county highway with a speed limit of 55.  It was a state patrol car and I thought he was being really weird, but what did I care, I was just thinking about coffee.

I slowed down and pulled up behind him and he started to move again.  He then turned into my road and stopped, blocking it completely so I could not turn.  I stopped and turned on my turn signal and rolled down my window.  I was still rather hot and sweaty from running and my windows were fogging up from slowing my car down.

He then pulled out of the way so I could turn in.  After I turned in, he flipped on his lights and started following me.  “Damn it……what the hell is going on?” I thought.  I just wanted my coffee and Husband was, no doubt, anxiously waiting for me to return so he could pass the baby to me and leave for work.

I pulled over on our narrow country road as best I could.  It has no shoulder and is barely wide enough for two cars to pass.  It is not gravel, but it has no stripes or anything.   There are not that many houses out our way so there is not a lot of traffic on our street.

I was already warm since I was wearing running tight and two layers of long sleeve running technical fabric tops and now that I had stopped I was really overheating.   My window was still down so I decided to get out of the car rather than sit and sweat profusely.  Besides, I was a bit nervous about what the heck was taking place here in the middle of nowhere at 7 am.  I got out and looked and Mr. State Trooper who was just sitting in his car behind me….no doubt running my plates or something.  As I stood there waiting I did some nervous walking……took maybe 7 steps out into the road.

He finally got out of the car and said something in a snide tone like “where do you think you are going?” or something like that.  I said “no where”.

He put his hat on and started marching towards me and again said something like “what is your problem?”  I told him I was anxious because I had no idea why he pulled me over.  He then got even angrier with me and said “you do to”.  I assured him I was very confused and he asked me to get back in my car which I did.  I explained that I was overheating and asked if I could take off one of my tops.  He said Ok and I did.

He then asked me again why he pulled me over…..I thought for a moment and knew my plates were not expired and I had not been speeding and I said “I have no idea”.

He was notably agitated and acting rather strange, so I looked back and checked his car again…..Yea; it looked like a real state trooper’s car.  He then told me my window tinting was why he pulled me over.  I then said “Ohhhhh, is that it?”  I had heard my windows may be over the legal limit, but had forgotten all about it.

Evidently my relief was interpreted as being a smart ass and he was in no mood to play.  He then asked for my driver’s license and registration.  I thought for a moment and realized my ID was at the house.  I had it in my jacket pocket with my credit card from the night before when I ran in the store.  I explained my driver’s license was at the house, just up the street (less than a mile) in my jacket and we could go get it.  He then asked if I had any other forms of ID with me and I told him I had my wallet, but not my ID so yea…..I had credit card and check book and everything.  Meanwhile I am thinking he knows who I am because he ran the plates and I am pretty obviously just a regular person out for a morning run.  How threatening could a girl in spandex tights be?

I handed him the check book and insurance card and he made a comment like since I was being so difficult I would need to go back to his car with him while he ran the stuff.  Now, this guy had been rather twitchy all this time and he was really scaring me and I didn’t want to get in his car with him so I said something like (my exact words elude me) “I’d rather not, I will be good if I can stay here.”  I honestly didn’t think he had ordered me to his car, I thought he had told me if I was going to be an ass I would have to go to his car.

He then threw the contents of his hands on the ground, grabbed me with both his hands and violently pulled me out of the car.  He was very rough and forceful.  He twisted me around and pressed my front side against the car and put his hand cuffs on me as tight as he could.  He pinched them down all the way with a lot of force.  I was IN TOTAL SHOCK AT THIS POINT!!

He then physically pulled me over to his car.  I was not really allowed to walk properly; it was more like he kept me at an odd angle and went fast so I could not get a footing.  He sat me in the front seat and locked the door and shut it.  Now I was sitting on my hands and that hurt and he had his heater blowing full blast and I started to cry.  This was all very scary and he seemed out of his mind and I could not think of what to do but to sit there and cry.  So I did.

He went back and started searching my car.  He dumped out my purse, emptied the glove box and center counsel.  He popped open the hatch and went through the back of my car as well.   He searched under the seat and pulled Zoe’s picture ID out of my wallet.  This went on for what seemed like an eternity.  Meanwhile I’m thinking my station wagon with car seat in the back surely does not look like I’m packing drugs or illegal stuff so this guy is just out of his mind.  I felt so violated by this man I had never met before who was touching all my personal stuff and rooting through my car.

I started to get angry.  This was all so crazy.  Why would this guy feel the need to be such an asshole to me at 7 O CLOCK IN THE MORNING?

He came back to the patrol car and had my cell phone and Zoe’s ID in his hand.  While he was searching my car, he was on his walky talky thing that was on his shoulder so I was pretty sure they were telling him everything they knew about me, my daughter and my car.

He got in the car and reached in back and got some gel hand sanitizer and rubbed his hands with it.  I begged him to turn down the heat as I was cooking to death and he did.  He then got out a card and READ ME MY MIRANDA RIGHTS.  My head was spinning, what the hell is this guy doing?   Why would I need my rights read to me for a tinted window ticket?  The next thing he did was ask me if I had any prior arrests.  By now, I was pretty sure the guy was nuts-o and that anything and everything I said or did would be considered wrong and I was angry and figured I was fucked anyhow so I said “you have the computer, you have the power, you already know so why are you asking me?”

He immediately said something like “that’s it, you’re going down town” and put the car in gear and squealed the tires as he did a violent u-turn on my little narrow road.  I was scared beyond belief.  I still had no idea what he was thinking or doing.  I still wondered if he was a real cop or just a whack job that was going to take me off and kill me.

I continued to sob and all I could think was that my husband was no doubt angry and worried that I was not home yet and wondering what the hell happened.  As we drove I continued to sob and asked him what was happening.  He said he was taking me to the station.  I asked where and he told me the County jail.  I asked why and he said so he could find out who I was.  I suspected that was not the real reason he was hauling me in and I certainly didn’t want to go to the County jail.  That is where they held my son when he was arrested.  I had been there to visit him at least once.  Very bad memories!

It was a long drive and I asked him a few questions in between my fearful sobs.  He told me that nobody has a license and doesn’t have it on them that he was sure I did not have one.  I didn’t think that really made sense since he had a computer and a walky-talky and I assume the records would have told him if I did not have a driver’s license.  Did he think I stole the car in my spandex tights and running shoes at 7 am?

He also explained that getting out of the car was strange behavior.  Now, how many times did I explain to him that I was hot?  Later a friend told me you are not supposed to leave the vehicle.  I did not know that.  I was on my own road and so close to home and overheating so I got out.  If I would have known it was such a bad move I certainly would not have done it.

We got to the jail house and pulled into the Sally Port.  (It has a big sign on it that says Sally Port.) He asked me if I had any hidden weapons on me because he could not pat me down.  I assured him that under my skin tight spandex pants and top was nothing but a spandex sports bra.  He escorted me in and a women officer patted me down.

They then asked me if I was going to “bond out”.  At the time they asked I honestly had no idea what that meant and said “what?”  They acted annoyed, like I was being a smart ass.  I was thinking to myself that they assume everyone is an expert at this shit and knows the drill.  I had never been arrested before how was I supposed to know any of this?  Why can’t they speak plainly and explain to me what is going on!?!?!

They also kept asking me where I worked which I thought was odd.  I still have no idea why.  Then they asked me who my next of kin was.   Again, what are they wanting and why?  I said “you mean who my retirement benefits go to if I die?” They finally said who would pick me up.  I thought…..well hell, why not ask me that then?  So I told them to call my husband.

They then did finger prints and a mug shot.  I know I looked like hell.  I had been out running with no makeup on and then cried for an hour or so……I can only imagine what it looks like.  BTW - They didn’t offer to show it to me.  It makes me ill that I am now “in the system”.

Next they sat me in a 5x5 holding cell.  It was cinder blocks with a big metal door and a stainless steel toilet and sink combo.  There was a concrete ledge to sit on, not a chair.  I sat there and got extremely cold.   Sitting on cold concrete in wet spandex really sucks.  I was bored out of my mind and had no watch to check the time so it seemed like I was there for an eternity.

A few hours later my husband arrived to get me out.  He had the baby in the car and she was a mess.  She had a full diaper and she was not dressed properly, etc.  He told me that first they told him to go to the State Patrol headquarter which he did.  It took a while before they told him I was not there and sent him down town to the City station.  They told him to go out to the County jail.  So they totally gave him the run around.  Plus, he had to go to the grocery store and get milk for the baby since he had not planned on being out for so long and did not pack a diaper bag.  I felt sorry for him and also worried he would be angry at me.  I think the first thing I said to him was “don’t even make me feel worse than I already do!!”

After my husband paid them the $500 bond they made me sign a form.  I read it and it said I was arrested for disobeying a State Patrol Officer!!  This was the first I knew what I was being held for.  I looked at the lady and said I would not sign it (she was behind the bullet proof glass and had slid out in the tray).  She told me I was not allowed to leave if I did not.  I felt so helpless.  Like the guy could do whatever he wanted and I was at his mercy.

When I got to work, I contracted our attorney and she promptly got the whole thing straightened out.  In the end, I paid a $65 ticket for the window tinting, $100 for court costs (I never appeared in court the attorney negotiated it all) and I paid my lawyer $350 to fix it.  She encouraged me to press charges against the officer.  She told me she was confident that he was in the wrong and that some cops are just bad seeds.  I think she just wanted more of my money.  I really don’t trust anybody anymore and was not about to mess with that state patrol officer anymore.