Neunundneunzig Luftballons

Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizon

Okay, so there weren't ninety nine of them (more like seven) and they weren't toy helium balloons (small water balloons actually), but the girls and I had fun with a friend playing in their front yard lobbing the ballons at each other and finishing the fun off with cold water dumped over heads–it had been a rather warm and humid day. Freya had a classic "What the fuck?!?!" look on her face when a balloon hit her feet and burst open, splashing halfway up the too-big t-shirt she'd been wearing. Luna didn't get that we weren't aiming for faces.

This water balloon fight was with the same friend who took us to the beach (http://tinyurl.com/BeachBikiniWomanBBW) the other day. I had come to her house (or rather she'd brought me to her house) to do a mountain of laundry in exchange for me doing some of her domestic chores. It's better than spending money I cannot afford to spend to use machines at a laundromat while trying to keep my kids from climbing into industrial dryers. She's a nice lady, and yesterday's visit included a dinner of grilled items, pasta salad, and sliced watermelon.

In the middle of the night…

Unfortunately, the laundry took longer than I'd meant it to and I found myself still folding and sorting items at nearly three in the morning, with one last load still tumbling in the basement dryer. Fortunately, my friends were gracious enough to have already allowed me to tuck the kids down well before that and the natural progression was for all of us tired people to just go ahead and get some sleep. Unfortunately, my children do not care what time they've been tucked into which bed–the asscrack of dawn is their favorite time to suddenly pop awake demanding sustenance, hydration, and obnoxiously loud playtime.

Here I am, blogging and Facebooking in my friends' livingroom, wishing I could go back upstairs and crawl back into their guest bed for a few more hours, while Luna and Freya are bound and determined to see how many boundaries they can break through this morning. While they're in the mood to treat my friends' livingroom like a fucking bouncy house, I'm still trying to recover from the strange dream I had last night wherein I was in a bathroom for what I thought was a need to empty my bladder but ended up pushing out enormous amounts of fluid and blood which turned out to be amniotic fluid and I was toilet-birthing like all those crazy chicks on "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant (Because I Pay No Attention To My Body)".

In said dream, apparently a baby head started coming out, but apparently an oxygen mask and clear garbage sack popped out too, you know for helpfulness and easy cleanup…I never did find out what happened with the birth, though, cause I was shaken from the painless birthing process by my actual children (who were birthed in a hospital). I know that as a mother I'll never get a full night's rest as long as I shall live, but it gets annoying sometimes. Still, I'm grateful to them for keeping me from learning the gender (and possibly species) of this strange toilet-baby.

Laundry

As of now, that last load is still in the dryer because I do not wish to take both girls into the basement to pull the load out and do not trust them alone on the ground floor of my friends' house. I have no idea when I'll finally finish this laundry, but I hope that my children and roommates are grateful for the effort I put in to gather, wash, fold, and sort both clothing and linens. Chances are the kids, at least, won't be, and I have to learn to be okay with that, too.

Beach Bikini Woman

BBW

By now, surely, you've all had a chance to watch my YouTube rant about the term BBW (http://tinyurl.com/FatDoesntDefine), or have at least read the blog entry wherein I typed the entire transcript thereof (http://tinyurl.com/FatDoesnt). BBW, for those of you who do not know, is an acronym for big beautiful woman/women, referring to women who are large and sexy. Many guys I've met both on and offline are so into BBW that they will only seek out large women to date. To me, being fat is not what defines me or my beauty. I have come to realize that I am beautiful and will be at any size.

Bikini

I'm sure you've all also either seen my February Facebook rant about people taunting women who are large and choose to wear bikinis (http://tinyurl.com/FBRantBikini) or saw the blog entry with its screenshot of said Facebook rant (http://tinyurl.com/LoveTheSkin). If not, you may have seen a more recent Facebook post wherein I discussed just browsing through bikinis and being gawked at (http://tinyurl.com/WalMartBikini). In either case, my point was that people shouldn't find pleasure in picking on women who are comfortable wearing revealing swimwear. In the posts, I mentioned considering a bikini for this years' swimwear.

Yesterday, even though I probably could have made better use of the funds, I used some of my cash to pick out new suits for me and the girls. A friend had invited us to spend today at the beach, and I didn't want to go into the water in jeans and a t-shirt or force my girls to do the same. They had already outgrown their suits from last summer, but at any rate those suits had been discarded in the move.

The friend who'd invited us to the beach took us to Wal-Mart for the suit-buying trip and brought another friend of hers along who would be joining us at the beach. We had fun browsing through and trying on suits. Luna picked out a cute one piece with colorful stripes. Freya picked out a solid pink one piece with an adorable tutu sewn on. I tried to find a black bottom and hot pink top (my two favorite colors) or a matching top and bottom in either color, but could only find the hot pink bottom and black top. Juniors' XL is a 15/17 and in a Juniors' t-shirt I can get into an L (11/13) if I don't mind the form-fit and my knockers catching everyone's eyes. For suits, it is a good idea to go larger.

I finally gave up on my quest for the pink/black combination I'd've preferred and, instead, moved on to other colors on the rack. Bright yellow, I reasoned, wouldn't go well with my naturally alabaster skin and, anyway, there were no XL bottoms left. Red didn't come in my size at all. Finally, I found a top and bottom in purple. For an overdress (not because of self confidence but because of a need to wear something in non-beach settings like the gas station on the way there), I chose a black strapless cotton gown that was ankle length.

Beach

I went to the beach.

I went to the beach in a purple bikini.

I went to the beach in a purple bikini and nothing happened.

I didn't bring about the start of Ragnarok. I didn't summon the four horsemen. Waves of beachgoers didn't suddenly go blind.

I went to the beach in a purple bikini and I had fun.

I took off my overdress and flipflops after my towel was laid out. I was so busy making sure that my children were ready to go into the water, that I didn't even notice the preppy teenagers (also bikini clad but with the types of bodies Cosmo claims we all ought to have) laughing and taking pics of us. How dare real women with real curves put on comfortable suits and go to the beach? I mean, really, what the hell was wrong with us, right? We went out into the water and my girls had so much fun splashing and swimming. We met up with a couple that my friend knew and hung out with them for a while. The last part of our beach trip was us laying down on towels and talking about randomness. During this time, preppy teens got up and left. They probably had to be home before curfew. I hoped they'd had fun laughing at us and that our pics are at this moment circulating Facebook or some sight they uploaded them to. But I'm not ashamed. I uploaded my own pics to Facebook (http://tinyurl.com/Beach-Bikini-Day).

In the immortal words of LMFAO, "I'm sexy, and I know it."

Bellamy Brothers--If I said you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? If I swore you were an angel would you treat me like the devil tonight? If I was dying of thirst would your flowing love come quench me? If I said you have a beautiful body would you hold it against me?

Services Rendered

Yeah, that's it, baby, render those services!

 

ATTENTION:
One freelance writer for hire. Willing to telecommute. All of your writing, editing, transcription, dictation, and general office needs can be taken care of at affordable prices. Same day or same week service in most cases. Don't need any help in the aforementioned categories but have some other project in mind? Jane of many trades–contact now! Feeling generous? Tips, donations, and pay-it-forward loans accepted.

I shared the above on my Facebook personal account and on all three of my business pages. 

I am quite capable of making money in my field…if people would take a chance on me. What I find interesting is the sheer arrogance of potential employers who can look me in the eye in an interview and tell me that I should have been out there making money in my field all this time, yet these same potential employers are the ones telling me that I have not worked enough in the field for them to take a chance on me.

How exactly do I get experience in my field?

I'm a writer. I write.

Can I prove that I write?

Read my blog entries. Check out my social networking presence. Google me. Look me up on Amazon.

Am I a prolific writer?

That denotes a writer who produces many works. I have. I will. I do. If it connotes a writer who has actually published many works, yes, that too, in the form of poems, short stories, essays, articles, and two books.

I do not have the same bibliographic length as Mr. Philip M. Parker [ http://tinyurl.com/PhilipMParker ], but I'm actually writing. I have unpublished works in files stored on my hard drive. I keep sending them out to potential publishers. They keep coming back. My two books available for purchase [ http://tinyurl.com/AshleyAnnEubanks ] are self published, but that is prohibitively expensive to continue to do for multiple titles when you have no other sources of income and no one is purchasing the existing books.

I am ready, willing, and able to work on any project. I really need projects that bring in income, but if you're really passionate about a project that has the potential to be lucrative in the future I may be willing to work on it on a contracted basis, but no matter what happened you'd still owe what you promised. I do not work completely for free, even for friends and family. I may just allow people to delay payment, kind of like a layaway plan for services rendered.

I would prefer to earn money as a freelance writer to the point that I don't have to apply for and jump through flaming hoops for public assistance programs. I would prefer to not have to keep applying for jobs far afield of my field and then getting rejected by those potential employers because I am overqualified. I would prefer to not feel like I have to grovel at job interviews and dumb myself down during the application process.

I am a writer. I write well. You need me to write for you. You need me to edit your writing. You need me to help you with basic layout and design issues for something you're planning on publishing. You need me to help you organize your filing cabinets. You need me to read your three year old bedtime stories in funny voices. You need me to alphabetize your gym socks. You need me to write your phone scripts for the mornings when you wake up hungover and need to know what to say to the boss about why you cannot show up to your plush corner office. You need me to ghostwrite that novel you've always wanted to write but never had the talent for. I'll let you take all of the credit if you let me take a chunk of money off of your debit or credit card for services rendered.

The Wombats–This is not an IOU.

Men Working

But I digress…

I will, dear readers, eventually get to the point of this post, the crux, the essential, the title topic…eventually.  If I may, though, be permitted a serious digression in the form of several paragraphs which may well be oversimplifying the last month or so of my life.

You see, I was minding my own business and working hard at my job, taking occasional breaks from reality to hang out with a new but dear friend, when I was thrown a curveball of sorts. I will not explain the details of the curveball for reasons of a personal nature, but suffice to say that it taught me that those I thought I could trust and rely upon were not who they seemed. The dear friend I mentioned was still someone I could trust, but I couldn't lean on him to help me with anything more than moral support in my sudden time of need.

Perhaps someone had switched on a panic button in my brain, perhaps I wasn't necessarily thinking quite rationally in the beginning, but I knew I had to make major changes in the way I was living my life if I wanted to protect myself and my children. From the day of the event, which was a Thursday at the end of February, I began cleaning, sorting, and organizing my belongings and making some major decisions. By Saturday night, or rather quite early Sunday morning, I had most of our belongings tucked away in the trunk of the car and in a Uhaul. I knew where I was going. I also knew I couldn't tell anyone.

You see, part of realizing that people you thought you could trust had let you down is realizing that you shouldn't trust anyone with delicate information. I planned a route, figured out the funds necessary, and made the journey. Along the way there were many stalling points, such as Freya's sudden onset illness while visiting my sister (she was perfectly fine then spiked 105 fever with rapid dehydration; the next morning she was fine again but on prescription medications and we were on our way). I allowed my sister and her husband to talk me into heading South into Texas rather than another route I'd planned.

"Go see the family!" they pleaded.

I did see the family, but the time I spent there reaffirmed my need to continue on my previously chosen path. You see, I know that my family does love me and my girls. I also know that sometimes that love is channeled into making judgements. I also know that sometimes they cannot provide the kinds of help I might need. I was not turned away, of course, but I was given options that weren't optimal. I chose to keep going; that probably upset some people. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone.

Along my route, I stopped and visited friends. The girls had plenty of stops to run to their little hearts' contents and play with newly acquired friends. I spent more money than I'd meant to on lodging and sustenance and the occasional souvenir. I tried to make the journey be a fun road-trip for the girls. I didn't want them to see stress or worry in their mommy.

We drove through Arkansas. I was tense the whole way. I had planned to lodge for the night in Little Rock. Two hours South of LR, I contacted their father and told him he could meet us there. Our old home was two hours West of LR. He spent three hours arguing with me on the phone about why he could not possibly drive to see his own children. The hotel we ended up stopping at was an hour East of LR. Since he'd said he wasn't coming, I simply got the girls ready for bed.

The next morning, I sent a text saying we would keep driving; I didn't see his reply til we were another hour or so even further East. He had started claiming that he would pay my gas money, buy us a room in a hotel for the night, and give me even more gas money if I would turn back around and end up in our old town. Knowing that by now his word is about as good as that of a crackhead saying he'll watch your house and not steal anything for crack money, I was understandably skeptical about anything he said to me. I told him that I doubted he would hand me upwards of $300 and at any rate by the time I'd gotten his message it would have been an 8hr round trip just to visit, let alone the added gas money and time for visiting and such…if he couldn't be bothered to visit his kids on my terms I would not allow him to bully and guilt me into doing it on his.

I was, also, quite terrified that he would find some way to snatch them and keep them from me. He does not have their best interests at heart but he was armed with misinformation from others and might have tried something had I given him the opportunity.

Once I arrived safely at my destination, unloaded my belongings, returned the Uhaul, and got a chance to rest, I set about looking for work. I did find a job here. It wasn't a terrible one, but I could not meet the expectations of my employer so we parted company. I was there long enough to earn two very small paychecks (only one full shift on each check), the first of which I received and cashed just today. I am still actively seeking gainful employment, but my priorities are of course to take the best care I can of these children in the meanwhile.

I have filed paperwork to have them enrolled in school as soon as possible. I am looking into local programs, such as the women's crisis center, because we do need to work through the problems that my spending eight years under Robert's abusive control have given me and the girls. We will get through this time in our lives just as we have other trials and tribulations. Ten months away from him has already done wonders for my health and my physique. Another ten months and my psyche may well be repaired.

Back to that thing about men working…

While we were on the road trip, I kept seeing "Men Working" signs at all of the road construction points. We've all heard the old saw about men working and it being an oxymoron and blah blah blah insult the entire gender…but the reality is that some men really are quite good at working. Some men (like my close friend from Arizona who is no longer geographically close) are no strangers to hard work and love to do responsible things like pay bills and bring home the proverbial bacon and dote on their lovers. Other men (like the man I'm still unfortunately legally married to but no longer have any love for) avoid hard work whenever possible, complain about hard work when it comes to them, spend money on themselves before spending it on responsible things, and only occasionally shower their loved ones with gifts, and then only to make up for wrongdoings.

So what's next?

I will not advertise my current location, but apparently the beans were spilt for me by others…trust no one doesn't seem like such a crazy mantra these days…I know that he still reads this blog religiously. I did reblock him from my facebook (as well as a few other people). I am trying to take care of myself and the girls. He has no desire to send a dime to them for any reason and only contacts me when he wants to complain about something or attempt to belittle me or scare me in some way. He keeps saying he needs my address; he does not. If he magically got the money to file for divorce while simultaneously telling me he cannot afford to send money or merchandise to his own children, then he can file and I'll be found by the powers that be if they need to find me.

I want to continue blogging on a regular basis; I want to get back to daily postings. I want to keep writing in general and publish more books (if you haven't yet purchased your copies of my two already published books, now's the time, people!). Since moving out here, I have earned $95 on independent writing/editing jobs. One payment went to cover an overdraft on my account. The other will probably put gasoline in my car. Someday I'd like to put my freelance writing money towards frivolous expenditures, but for now I'd like to just earn enough to keep my kids in clothing and with full bellies.

The girls are okay. Since moving, they have made several new friends and had several fun adventures. So have I. In time, our wounds will heal.

The people who set things into motion that lead to our second cross-country journey in less than a year will come to understand that what they did was wrong. I am not out for revenge. In fact, I'm not even out for revenge against the man who cheated on me, abused me, mistreated me, lied to me, bilked me out of thousands of dollars in federal student loans, and left me penniless and veritably homeless ten months ago. I feel like karma bitch-slapped him when his first post-me live-in girlfriend supposedly cheated on him and then left him after stealing from him. I haven't heard her side of the story, but I've come to a point where I am actually on her side in this whole thing. I don't know her now any more than I did back when I was calling her all kinds of bitch and hoe. Still, I think now that she and I have something major in common: we both lived through Robert and survived. We're kindred spirits in that way, but she was smarter than I was–she only put up with his bullshit for two months and it took me eight years.

Robert aside, I need to wrap up another "loose end" from recent months. If you all remember, I was gushing and blushing over a dipshit I met on the internet for a while there. I thought I'd fallen in love even though we'd never actually met, and he'd gotten into my girls' hearts through our video chats as well. Fortunately they got over him quickly. I actually did too, but I had to get angry first. When I made the cross-country journey, instead of telling me to come to him for shelter from the storm or at least being a proverbial shoulder to cry on, he told me that he couldn't take me in and that if I went anywhere else but where I was we'd never be able to happen. Then, knowing I was driving cross-country with two small children, he had the gall to get pissed off at me for not having called him during that journey. When I got to my destination, I found out he had moved in with another woman. Tonight, on Facebook, I found out she's pregnant.

Congratulations to her. I hope they're happy together. I just wish that I'd never set my heart's focus on this guy at all. Yes, he provided a welcome distraction from my mixed (at the time) feelings for Robert, but I never should have gotten so caught up in the false promises of a cyberspace Casanova. I also shouldn't have let my confusing feelings toward an internet romancer keep me from delving more deeply into the friendship I was developing with my close and then-local friend. Now I'm so far away from my Arizona friend that we will probably never be anything more than that because experience has taught me time and again that long distance relationships NEVER work. Just look at internet guy and I. Just look at Robert and I. How many times did he cheat on me while one of us was living or visiting another place? Yeah…I lost count too…

It really was too soon after Robert to start dating, but Arizona brought so many wonderful opportunities at first that I thought finding the true love of my life (either online or in person) was truly a distinct possibility. Now I'm back to focusing on my career and my education (and yes I really fucked up on the education front this semester, but I still only have one class and one exam left and I'll finish those eventually; I have six years from last January after all). I'm back to sending out resume after resume after resume to land that perfect job in mine or a related field. I'm back to making contacts in my field. I'm back to writing for writing's sake and then trying to get those jewels published for monetary gain cause I need to for my girls' sake. I'm back to knowing that if I'm not a 10 then I'm at least a 9.9 and anyone who doesn't see that isn't worth my time.

If you or someone you know would like to help me in my endeavors, here's a list of things you can do:

1. Buy my books.
2. Tell everyone you know to buy my books.
3. Read and comment on every entry on my blog.
4. Share your favorite entries all over your social networks.
5. Share links to my books all over your social networks.
6. Send me donations in the form of PayPal USD or legitimate money orders.
7. Send me words of encouragement.
8. Call your local bookstores and demand that they carry my books.
9. Ask your libraries to carry my books.
10. Build a shrine to me in your basement and light candles daily in the hopes that I'll become wealthy and famous and still like you.

Okay, maybe that last one is going a bit too far…but you get the picture…

I don't have to worry about the ancient quandary of whether and how much men work…I am a woman and both capable and willing to work hard. So even if I end up back in retail or down some new hellish path like factory or construction or human resources…even then I'll work hard and do my level best and bring the pep to work daily. Even then I'll show up dressed to the nines (or maybe the five point eights if the job requires it). Even then I'll doll myself up and put my best foot forward (followed by the second best so that this whole walking thing occurs and propels me onward in my journey).

In the meanwhile, I'm going to get off of teh interwebs and sort through laundry so that the tiny aforementioned paycheck can be put to decent use as quarters for industrial machines. If there's anything at all I miss about living with Robert, it would be my washer and dryer…Goodnight loyal readers and please remember to comment!

What Luck!

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, various species of kelp, I am excited to announce a new development in my life!

Just this morning, while on my daily 19-mile jog along the shore of Lake Superior, I happened to run into a very distinguished looking gentleman of wealthy means. Once I'd apologized to him for nearly knocking the wind out of him and helped him dust off his ridiculously anomalous tweed jogging suit, we made our formal introductions as we jogged along together (he seemed to have forgotten he'd been jogging in an opposing direction to my own daily routine.

He was strikingly handsome, what with the fully receded hairline and the liver spots on his shiny scalp. His charcoal eyes beneath the wire-rimmed spectacles squinted at me in the dawning sun. I could tell, too, that he appreciated my leopard-print spandex and the way my numerous rolls bounced with every thrust of foot on shoreline.

By the time my daily jog had finished, he and I had become fast friends. We had so many things in common, from our mutual love of saturated fats to our fantasy of a pool filled to the brim with freshly tapped maple syrup and flotation devices fashioned exclusively out of squared waffles fastened together with edible twine.

As we made our way to our respective modes of transportation (mine of course being a horse-drawn carriage decorated in glitter and hot-pink chiffon and his being a stretch Dodge Monaco), he reached into his waistband and appeared to be rudely adjusting himself in front of me; I tried to avert my eyes but couldn't help but wonder what sort of package a man like this could have for me to unwrap…that's when I noticed him pulling something out and stared, aghast, when I realized that he'd actually been rummaging in a hidden pocket for a small black-velvet-lined box.

The box he trust into my hands, somewhat impatiently and said, quite romantically, "We might as well."

Inside this tiny treasure chest I found the most beautiful ring I had ever seen in my life; I'd post a picture but the gemstones are so shiny and precious that even a camera without a built-in flash would find a way to cause a glare and do them no justice. This ring makes anything you've ever seen before look ugly by comparison.

Anyway…the wedding is planned for the next February blue moon. I expect all of you to attend. His name is George and he has promised to share his wealth with me as soon as our fifteenth biological child together is born. To expedite the process, I've already begun looking into disreputable fertility doctors who would be willing to implant quindecuplets initially and go from there.

I have already moved into one of his mansions (the location of which I cannot fully disclose due to the paparazzi and such). I am happy with my new life and am looking forward to our future together. George has promised to take me around the world in eighty days (give or take). I'll start mailing out the wedding and baby shower invitations just as soon as I can figure out the exchange rates in…oops…I've said too much…

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PS. Happy April Fools Day, dear readers!

Happy Leap Day!

It is February 29. If you pop out a baby today, he or she will only
technically have a birthday every four years, making the whole turning
21 and buying a beer at midnight tradition kind of awkward but maybe
your Leap Day baby won’t be a drinker.

If I weren’t still recovering from a night of fighting my overactive
brain for dominance and sleep, I’d look up famous Leap Day births or
Leap Day traditions or some such. In my laziness, you’ll have to do
this research yourselves.

I’m going to celebrate this Leap Day by looking around for the Holy
Grail (AKA an apartment that is neither expensive nor dilapidated).
Wish me luck in my endeavors. Also:

BUY MY BOOKS!!!
BUY MY BOOKS!!!
BUY MY BOOKS!!!
BUY MY BOOKS!!!
BUY MY BOOKS!!!
BUY MY BOOKS!!!

Sent from my iPhone

Yeah, I Didn’t Think So

Since my white night ran off with an ogre and my knight in shining
armor lost his horse in a bet, this Cinderella-wanna-be is doing it
for herself (take that any way you must).

Tonight, I am awake at this ungodly hour because I just finished
another round of revisions on my book, _Comatose: Beginnings_, which I
hope to publish soon, but not before I remember to add a note or
prologue or some shite to thank my brother for helping develop this
plot like a decade ago in one of our random storytelling sessions.

I already have two nonfiction books on the market so you people should
already buy those while you’re waiting for this first book in a
fiction series to get published.

I’m tired and children wake up too early each morning so a nap is on
my menu. I’ll blog more…eventually.

Sent from my iPhone

We’ll Always Have The Airport Hilton

I never wanted to be a single mom. Some women do. They plan it. Not
me. I wanted the husband, the 2.5 kids (we’d name the .5 kid Halfy and
adore his half-formedness), the dog, the cat, the cars, the
house…Living the suburban dream, lemme tell ya! But, instead, parts
of my life went as planned and parts of it resembled scenes in
“Suburban Nightmare” (the abuse and bickering, not the serial
killing).

Fast forward to now:

I am living alone in a 1.5 bedroom mobile home in the Arizona desert,
two kids, no pets. In my fantasy world from years ago I was a bubbly
housewife and dinner party hostess who also authored books and maybe
taught classes and had a hit record deal–I don’t know…guess my
immature mind didn’t have all the details worked out.

I work odd and random shifts at a retail establishment that can take
up to 45min to drive to. I have two books on the market that all of my
supposed fans and followers are apparently too broke to afford. While
my estranged spouse has enjoyed these eight months of separation by
dating again openly and actually having his lovers in what used to be
our family home, I have been reticent to have relationships.

I met one guy here in the summertime. Because of his work hours and my
kids, we could only hang out at odd and random hours. He said I was
still in love with my husband and that I should get over that
immediately. He also said he wanted to be my next “baby daddy”…we
are no longer friends.

On the Internet, and through mutual friends, I met Nathan. He’s a nice
guy, if a bit cocky and occasionally brooding. He wants a biological
child of his own in the not to distant future (a subject over which
there’s been much deliberation in my head due to the intrinsically
difficult nature of caring for the two kids I already have). He wants
to give up the work hard and play hard lifestyle to which he’s grown
accustomed and instead grow accustomed to domestic life with me and
the kids. But in the months we’ve known each other, we have never met
in person. It’s been vid chats and phone calls and texts and IMs…all
of which were great but a girl craves more.

If (hypothetically speaking, of course) I met another man here,
perhaps on the job or something, we wouldn’t be able to have a real
relationship anyway. I am very guarded about who gets to meet my
precious angels and clandestine romances would not make the list.

Nathan has met the girls through vid chat. It was not my original
plan, but it so happened that they adored him and he them. One night
Freya woke up sick and cranky in the middle of a chat and he sang a
lullaby to her. It warmed my heart but also made me angry that her
biological male parental unit didn’t see the need to arrange his own
vid chats with his babies.

I don’t know what to do about the dating situation. When I listened to
“He Didn’t Have To Be” by Brad Paisley I used to only be able to
relate to the kid loving his stepdad (although me and mine didn’t get
along as often as adult me would have liked). Now I feel like I can
relate to the mom as well (although surely my friends who have been in
this situation a lot longer will think I’m making premature
observations about the nature of this lifestyle that I didn’t
particularly choose).

I feel like my options in the dating world are limited. There’s either
low-rent rendezvous at the Airport Hilton or there’s technology-based
dating. I don’t want to move someone in with my kids and then find out
he’s a baby-raping monster or a crack addict. I don’t want to have
some great guy in my kids’ lives who suddenly leaves again because if
some issue with me. I want to share my most precious accomplishments
with the special someone on my life, but I feel like maybe that’s
wrong or at least misguided at this point. What if they don’t like
him? What if he hates them?

I don’t know if finalizing the divorce will ease my troubled mind, but
perhaps taking that step will help a little. I am these girls’ only
advocate in this world right now. I cannot let anyone or anything
interfere with that. I know it has only been eight months since we
separated and that it is too easy to rush headlong in to something
new. I don’t think I have that luxury. I have to be cautious and
careful for the girls’ sake. It really isn’t fair that the ex has
already had (and lost) his first cohabitation experience post me yet I
can’t even invite a potential lover over for dinner…

Sent from my iPhone

Buy My Books

Books Available For Purchase directly through the publisher:

The Super Adventures of Amazing Apostrophe

Essays I Wrote In College: The Under Grad Years

My Amazon.com author bio page:

Ashley Ann Eubanks’ Author Bio Page

via heartchasms.blogspot.com

Yes, this counts as both shameless shelf promotion AND circular posting (as I’m copying a page from my Blogger blog to share on all of my blogs…including my Blogger blog). Still, it had to be done.

Thousands of people follow me on Twitter and not one of them has purchased a single copy of my book. Let’s not forget, people, that the prices were reduced considerably. I’m not turning a huge profit in royalties here people. If you buy the Kindle versions of my books, I’m making a pittance…but that’s not what it’s about.

I wrote the books so people would read them. I want them out there. If I could afford it, I’d simply pay to have thousands of copies printed up and shipped directly to the houses and offices of all of my loyal Tweeps and Facebook creeps…erm…I mean Facebook friends.

I’d babble more about this tonight, but it’s time for me to tend to personal hygiene and force myself to slumber. Tomorrow I have brunch plans con mi familia followed by a riveting day at what may quite loosely be defined as “the office” if one ignores the lack of anything even remotely office-related in my job duties at my day job.

Still, I truly enjoy the smiling faces on customers who appreciate my smile and naturally sunny disposition (because you know this grizzly mama bear turns into captain of the cheer squad when she’s on the clock almost 88% of the time or some arbitrary statistic I just made up on the spot…).

So…the point is…buy my books!

But suddenly, I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones