My life started in October. On the thirteenth, no less. I've heard its the worse day of the year a few times over my short 20 year life span. Once in a short while, I believe it. My parents, who are complete opposites for quite a lot of things, were once married. Married, until 1992. Coincidentally, I was born that year. I have absolutely no memory of them ever getting along much less ever living together. I was almost always a dreamer when I was little. I always thought it'd get better no matter what happened, I'd eventually be happy.
Lets start off with some background on my parents. They couldn't be further apart. In fact, the only similarity they share is me, money, and expensive s**t. Now my mom wishes she had money. My dad has money. Mom likes antiques. He wants the latest and greatest gadget (within reason). Essentially my mom's poor wanting to be affluent (who hasn't thought about it at least once?), and my father's actually at least close to the high-middle class area (yet he started just as low and poor as my mom). (Funny we have a cast system still.)
My mother made her living as a fisher on a boat in Seward. Now I must say, I don't really believe this as I now know she makes her living as a prostitute. My mom wasn't the most intelligent. She wasn't the best either. I've been told by two people now, that when she was helping my Nana at her toy shop (the only toy shop in Seward that had exotic delicious candy), she would dress me up as a doll. Literally stuck doll clothes on me, and makeup. Think of a made-up toddler in doll's clothing. I think Toddlers and Tiaras, white trash version. (now I know those people ARE white trash, but by white trash version, I mean my mom actually used doll clothes, not clothes designed for a toddler to wear.) Aside from the pretending I was a doll, she was a terrible liar. In all honesty, she is a pathological liar, who didn't graduate from high school. Not the best parent. Course I didn't see this side of her until years later. To give some perspective though, she was nineteen when she had given birth to me.
I saw my mother as a mother. I don't have any memory of her being gone days at a time leaving me with her friends/brother/mom to go party (probably get paid to be a stripper or prostitute). I don't even remember being “The Toy Shop Baby”. As she'd loan me off to complete strangers for lunches, shopping sprees and whatever else. Lord only knows. (Although that doesn't sound that bad. That makes me sound like I'd be on Toddlers and Tiaras if the show came out in the early nineties.) Hopefully she wasn't lying when she said they all elderly people who just missed having a baby/toddler around.
My father, on the other hand. Was great. From what I remember around that age. Sure he lived with my grandma still. He was twenty, graduating college. I have a picture of him in his robes from when he graduated from Charter College. Standing tall and proud with his mom (who incidentally looked like a brick house). With a few degrees in Computers. To be honest. I don't really know if he was working the elementary school that would soon play a huge role in my life just yet. He was honest, never left me alone with any of his friends for more than maybe a few hours. He did his best as a father. In those first few years. I was his highest priority. See, when mom and him divorced, my mother got me, and well.. I'll definitely be delving into that soon enough.
As far as I had saw my dad. My father had once said, when he dropped me off one day that I had told my mom something a like “I like the nice man” Now that must've hurt him. I mean what actual (actual implying he wasn't a deadbeat dad, didn't leave me days at a time with friends/family of his) father wants to know that their little girl doesn't even see him as her dad. Well, that changed, since as far as I can remember, I've known that he's my father. I have memories of going to Chuck E. Cheese's with him and having a blast. I remember playing all sorts of games with him at home. My favorite game to play when I was younger was Candy Land. He wasn't a 'full-time' parent, but he didn't have to be. I only saw him on the weekends when my own mother saw it convenient. She used to tell him 'Oh yeah! Come on by!!' He would, and find a note telling him my mom forgot she made plans and we went out to or for something or other. Even though at first, he could only see me for a few hours a week. He still came. In that white, three seater Bronco.
Now that you've met my parents, its time for my birth. I'm just thankful that I don't have the contraception story. Saves me and all you readers one disturbing image.
I couldn't tell you the weather or time exactly that I was born, but every time I think of my mother's story on my birth, I just can't help imagine it was late at night, but if I remember correctly, I was actually born around two in the afternoon. Here we go..
According to my mother, it took a while. Not like her screaming “GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!!” (Although, she could have, who'd be able to stand 2+ hours in an ambulance pregnant, ready to give birth?) More like, the ambulance from Seward to Anchorage chose to be really slow on the highway. She says the ambulance driver wasn't prepped for anything dealing with childbirth, and didn't want a crash course lesson (I don't blame him). So he took his time. Through the slooow bumps on the highway. I stayed in one hundred six and six tenths miles. All the way to Providence. The only part of this that's definitely true, is that I was born in Providence.
Unfortunately, my father wasn't there to see this miracle of birth. (Every birth is a miracle!) He says that this was due to my mother not wanting him there, and causing him to be jailed. Mom's explanation was that he got angered and upset so much that he had hit his head, (either on a door frame or corner of a wall (I'm betting it'd be a door frame)) protesting that if he couldn't be there when I was born, that he'd kill himself so that we'd have to remember him every year on my birthday. Seems a bit selfish and idiotic. It earned him a spot in the crazy side of the hospital for over night observation (might've said he stayed longer). My mom's explanation does explain a scar that he has, however, I don't know who to believe when it comes down to this.
My parents got divorced soon after. (Not sure how long after.) The court sided with my mother. (I think it might be an automatic siding?) From that moment onward, my dad had fought one of his hardest battles. Getting custody of me. At first it started with being able to see me for more than a few hours. It grew to get full custody of me. He'd end up winning in a rather unfortunate way.
It all started with my mother. (what doesn't so far?) My parents were living with each other at first. (We all know this, what we don't know yet is..) My mother had been prostituting whilst living with him. They lived, fight-fully in Anchorage. My Nana was living in Seward dealing with one of the lowest and dirtiest scum possible. Well this persistent a*****e, saw a picture of my mom. He finally gives my nana an ultimatum. He either marries my mom or he'll continue to harass/be with my nana. So my nana says okay, she'll forge the marriage documents with him (my mom's side isn't the brightest). So one day my step-dad decides that 'ya'know what? I'm married to her! I'm going to take over her life now!' Well thats just what he did, with the police no less. So far I've explained it as how my mom explained it once. Well in both versions (mom's and dad's) he came busting in that shared apartment with the police. He had said (probably exclaimed psychotically happy) “I'm married to you! I Live here now!” Now anyone who knows my dad, knows that he isn't one for people like this and he puts up a fight a little (all verbal, he don't wanna go jail now). The cops that helped my step-dad bust in confirms that yes. He does live there as he is married to mom.
My dad speculates that she was messing around on him, got knocked up by my step-dad, and eloped without a single thought to our (mine and his well being). My dad packed up rather irate and went to live with one of his friends. I of course, get stuck with those two. Now this is where everything starts to get heated.
My version of all of this is that there is some truth in both. My mom was cheating on my dad. She was pregnant (she denies that she knew). Of course that step-dad and her were married. He had barged in on them. Which did force my dad to leave.
Every time I got picked up by my dad, I smelled. I reeked of everything (tobacco, mostly, with weed and only Lord knows what else) that idiot smoked plus urine. I personally don't have any memory of, it as this is still waaay early in my life. Yet, this is where my little brother's life begins. As he developed in the womb and just born a few days after my step-dad declared his marriage to my mother. At any rate, my dad bathed me every single time I went over. I can only imagine how hard it must've been to have the door open only to see your daughter sitting in a room with smoke residue in the air, in dirty clothing with urine being her perfume. It's saddening really. It's like I was the nineties white trash Shirley Temple (I had blond gorgeous curly hair). Even so, this is the least of the issues that will appear during the six-year battle.
The first move I ever remember was to the set of apartments with the landlord's tiny one story house in the center with a sand box next to it. I remember the neighbors a floor above. Directly above us. (I thought the boy was annoying.) My brother chose a slightly larger room, whose door faced my mom and step's door. I begged him to switch with me and he wouldn't budge.
My brother not wanting to switch turned out okay, since when my half-sister's cousins would come over we'd play Nintendo 64 in my room. There was one day where the eldest, had conned my naïve self into thinking that he loved me and we'd go away to a state that allowed cousins to marry (we were hiding in the closet when he said that). One time we were on my top bunk, under the blankets as our siblings (his two younger brothers, my brother and half sister) were completely unawares. He laid his hands over my bare chest and told me “Some day these'll grow.”
I guess neither of them could pay for anything (I don't even know what step-dad's job was! Maybe mom was sleeping the landlord and the landlady found out and evicted her?) so we again end up moving. I was told to not tell my father that we were. It was a secretive move. Well one of the days he's bringing me back, I couldn't hold it in. I told him. He was calm. Until he got me home. Then he blew up on mom, she turned to me and simply said, “You weren't supposed to tell him.” I honestly can't remember much else.
The house we moved into was great. It was two stories with an attic, and basement. It was older, yeah. The basement had washer and dryers, I have a distinct memory of playing Old Maid with my uncle as my mom did our laundry. I remember my birthday there. The carpeted stairs. That night that we huddled all together in the living room for warmth one winter. As step and mom couldn't pay the bills.
It'd soon become apparent that step-dad was watching us bath. This would appear around year two-four of this legal fight. Step-dad's excuse is that “I'm making sure they get clean!” They meaning myself and my half sister, his kid. This here, I can personally attest to. He would have us stand up in the bath and scrub/rub ourselves then we'd sit back down when we were done. I had done this once without him in the bathroom watching and after I wondered why I bothered to get up then dismissed it as soon as it came. It may have resulted in a CPS call, but as far as my own memory goes, there was no way that they ever had that bear mountain apartment clean enough. Step dad had plants hanging from the ceiling whose vines would eventually encircle the apartment's living room, kitchen and hallway. As if it were a natural trim/border. Flies were everywhere with the accompaniment of the entire front living room window blocked by plants. You couldn't see through the window even if you wanted to, from all the plants stuck there for prime sunlight. I couldn't even tell you what plants they were.