<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:43:46.692-05:00</updated><category term='about me'/><title type='text'>nevermore</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-5360051179491389540</id><published>2008-12-10T10:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:13:40.993-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Job almost gone</title><content type='html'>Well, it's official.  7 days til joblessness.  I don't know what's worse, the wait, or the fact that for the next several days, my job will be even more boring than it was before (which I didn't think was possible).&lt;br /&gt;Last week, I was evicted from my office to a small windowless box so that my replacement could have the work systems access.  Sadly, now I am unable to perform the basic daily functions of my job, as I sit here at a laptop with no access to files.&lt;br /&gt;I just wish that they would let me go now instead of making me sit here all day looking at the ceiling and praying for death.&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;I cant even visit the forum when the agent is here, which makes the days drag on and on and on and on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-5360051179491389540?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/5360051179491389540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=5360051179491389540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/5360051179491389540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/5360051179491389540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/12/job-almost-gone.html' title='Job almost gone'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-806232968289238427</id><published>2008-11-24T09:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T10:01:43.562-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidays</title><content type='html'>I'm already sick of the holidays, and they aren't even here yet!!&lt;br /&gt;As I've said many times before, I'm claustrophobic and don't like crowds.&lt;br /&gt;Well, Thursday were doing Thanksgiving/Christmas with my Grandparents that live up the street from us.  Were doing Christmas now, because my aunt that lives in Florida has to work over Christmas, but has Thanksgiving off.  We sat down last night trying to figure out the schematics of how the kitchen had to be set up to fit everyone.  Then we had to count out who all was going to be there so that we made sure to get enough chairs.  Last count was 22.  I panicked.&lt;br /&gt;Then, when I was telling my husband this (when he woke me up at 3 am to tell me he was home), he told me that there would be at least 15 at his mom's place that night for Thanksgiving dinner.  I freaked out even more.  The difference lies in space size and escape options.  At my grandparent's house, if I get overwhelmed I can just go into a different room, as I'm sure there will be plenty of space, since their house is pretty big.  My mother in law lives in an apartment that she has packed full of canned goods, dehydrated food, and whatnot (she's one of those that thinks the world will end in our lifetime and she plans to be the only one prepared).  Even if she puts all of that stuff into the bedroom and closet, there still won't be enough space for all those people, and my escape routes will be blocked.&lt;br /&gt;So I cry a single tear and feel sorry for myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-806232968289238427?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/806232968289238427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=806232968289238427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/806232968289238427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/806232968289238427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/holidays.html' title='Holidays'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-1446344235842050013</id><published>2008-11-19T11:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:00:49.934-06:00</updated><title type='text'>P***ed off royally</title><content type='html'>I'm very, VERY aggravated at my husband.  Long story short, his dad passed away suddenly in April.  His mother told him that he would be getting $10,000 from the life insurance that his dad had.  She even gave him the date that he would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; it, and the policy number and all that.  (not what I'm mad about, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt;)  He started a new job back in September, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;apparently&lt;/span&gt; without telling me, took a week off around the time he was supposed to get said life insurance money.  The money was supposed to be there on Friday, November 14&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.  It wasn't.  I was a little puzzled when he didn't go in to work, so I asked him about it.  He told me that he had taken the 14&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; through the 21st off.  I managed to keep my cool (barely) and told him that if that check wasn't coming, that he needed to go ahead and go to work.  Saturday rolls around (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;True's&lt;/span&gt; birthday) and he still isn't going in.  I ask him again what's going on and he tells me that since it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;True's&lt;/span&gt; birthday, he was going to stay home.  So, of course, I didn't argue.  Same thing on Sunday, but at least he had the decency to pretend to call his supervisor.  He has Mondays off, so I couldn't say anything about Monday.  Tuesday is an optional "work for extra cash" day.  I made him call, and he at least pretended to, but didn't go in.  I'm really getting fed up with it.  Since he started, not counting this "vacation", he has taken 4 days off and been sick one more.  I'm not trying to sound like a money grubbing bitch or anything, but we have bills to pay.  I'm working too, and cant cover all of the bills on my paycheck and still be able to afford the gas to get back and forth to work.  He spent 2 months this summer without a job, just because he didn't want to look for one, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; find one that he would like.  When he finally did get a job, it was because I had found him one and filled out the application, all but signing of course, and turned it in.  I scheduled his interview, I forced him to go in.  He decided that he didn't like it, so he went out and got the one he has now.  Mind you, the one he has now is a very good job, but it almost seems like he is trying to get himself fired.  I have been married before to a man who didn't work.  I hate being the breadwinner, plus being the homemaker on top of that.  That is why I'm so angry that he refuses to help me out around the house.  I'm not supposed to pick up and carry heavy things, but he wont take the laundry to the basement for me (where the washer and dryer are.)  I'm not supposed to do a lot of bending, but he wont pick up the floor when the kids make a mess with their toys.  He refuses to pick up after himself.  He is becoming more lazy and slovenly by the day, and I'm at my wit's end.  What's a girl to do??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-1446344235842050013?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/1446344235842050013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=1446344235842050013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/1446344235842050013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/1446344235842050013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/ped-off-royally.html' title='P***ed off royally'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-3226433446853591617</id><published>2008-11-14T10:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T10:48:48.856-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Complaints</title><content type='html'>As it sits today, 11/14/2008.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, True will turn 4.  I almost want to cry knowing that in 2 years, I will be sending him off to kindergarten.  He wants so badly to go to school now, but they wont let him into the local preschool until January at the earliest.  I'm kinda scared to send him to kindergarten without sending him to preschool, I want him adapted, you know?&lt;br /&gt;My husband is a useless lump.  Yes, I understand that working the graveyard shift can really take a toll on a  person (as I've worked that shift before).  What I don't understand though is how it can take so very much out of you that you basically cant (wont) do anything productive the rest of the time.  I know, since I only work 3 days a week, the biggest share of the household stuff should be my responsibility, but it would be nice if he'd do the dishes every once in a while, considering I do all the laundry, clean the whole house, take care of the kids and the pets, mow the lawn, and keep the cars in running order.  Is that really too much to ask?&lt;br /&gt;I only have my job until 12/31/08.  I interviewed with the agent back in September, and still haven't heard one way or the other.  It's starting to bug me because it seems like he's avoiding me.  He was even in here this morning, and wouldn't look me in the eye, barely said 2 words to me, and was only here about 45 minutes after I got here.  So I have decided something.  I will wait to agree to another job, but only until the 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of December.  If he doesn't say anything before then, I'm going to accept a job offer somewhere else.  If, after then, he decides that he wants me to stay and work for him, I'm going to find a very polite way to say "Sorry, but you don't wait 3 months to get back to someone about a job."  Is that so wrong?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-3226433446853591617?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/3226433446853591617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=3226433446853591617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/3226433446853591617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/3226433446853591617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/complaints.html' title='Complaints'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-8843260404842327685</id><published>2008-11-13T09:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T09:30:18.959-06:00</updated><title type='text'>stuffy headed ramblings</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate having a cold.  My sinuses are draining and giving me an upset stomach.  Feel like I'm gonna puke.  Other than that, I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  Actually, I'm in a surprisingly good mood.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have migraines.  Bad ones.  The kind that, the only way you can get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;relief&lt;/span&gt; is if you stand on your head.  Or drill a hole in your skull to relieve the pressure.  Blinding lights that flash and swirl.  They are actually halfway under control now, with 3 different &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;.  Last night I found my trigger.  MSG.  We ate at a Chinese &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt;, and I LOVE lo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;mien&lt;/span&gt;.  Cried for hours, then fell asleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the last 2 years, I have broken my left foot once (bottle of rum), and my right foot twice (jar of spaghetti sauce, kicking the coffee table).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am half of an only child.  I was my father's only, and my mom's first of two. By 8 years.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My husband is one of 8 kids, his mom is one of 11, and his dad is one of 15.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My aunt had to be put into therapy when I was born because she hated me. (7 yrs between us)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My fears are: spiders, driving over bridges, heights, fire, closed in places, and crowds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can drive a stick shift, fix cars, build stuff, fish, and hunt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Not that anyone cared to know all of that, but I wanted to make a post today, and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; remember what for.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-8843260404842327685?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8843260404842327685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=8843260404842327685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/8843260404842327685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/8843260404842327685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/stuffy-headed-ramblings.html' title='stuffy headed ramblings'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-2398103407614090223</id><published>2008-11-12T15:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T15:51:55.437-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Party</title><content type='html'>Has anyone ever heard of this??  Throwing your kid a party when they finish their potty training?  Honestly I had never heard it until my aunt brought it up a couple weeks ago.  No one I know of yet has heard of it.  I think this is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;rediculous&lt;/span&gt; idea.  I have asked some people about it (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tah&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Neo&lt;/span&gt;) and have to agree with them that it's setting the kid up for disappointment.  My mother and I have been talking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; on those lines, and she has been talking about it at work to her friends there...still no one has heard of it.&lt;br /&gt;So here I am, sitting at work, bored as always, and I decided to google "potty party".  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Apparently&lt;/span&gt; it is supposed to be a way to train your kid in 1 day, not as a reward for doing something they have to do to be functioning adults.&lt;br /&gt;I also told my sister-in-laws about it, and one of them piped up with "So what is he gonna do when he hits puberty?  'Mom, I had my first wet dream, I want a party' or 'first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pube&lt;/span&gt; party' " and on and on.  Needless to say, it was hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;So it has turned into a wonderful joke around my house.&lt;br /&gt;Part of me still wants to say that I don't want True involved, but part of me thinks that at his age and with his mental state that he wont understand if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; let him be involved and that he'll backslide, which I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to have him go through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*note-re: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;True's&lt;/span&gt; mental state--we (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Dr&lt;/span&gt;.s and I) think that he has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;adhd&lt;/span&gt; and some mild learning disabilities, but that with time and care he may grow out of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-2398103407614090223?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/2398103407614090223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=2398103407614090223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/2398103407614090223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/2398103407614090223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/potty-party.html' title='Potty Party'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-5846197126576722171</id><published>2008-11-05T09:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T09:22:50.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pissed off</title><content type='html'>Just a short one for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't like the lawyer.  He was a prick.  I believe that if you're going to practice family law, you should be family-friendly.  I took my kids and husband with me, and the guy kept saying that he'd like to meet again later to discuss things without all the noise (noise=my kids).  I looked him in the face and said, "Well, my kids go everywhere with me.  My husband works nights, and I work days part time, so they would have to come with me."  He then asked for my phone number and gave me his and said that he'd like to set up a phone conference instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I think I'll look for a different lawyer to handle this case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-5846197126576722171?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/5846197126576722171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=5846197126576722171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/5846197126576722171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/5846197126576722171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/pissed-off.html' title='Pissed off'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-1811206590163174460</id><published>2008-11-03T14:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T15:07:50.887-06:00</updated><title type='text'>scared to death</title><content type='html'>Ok, everyone, I'm terrified.  I called a Family law attourney today. &lt;br /&gt;Long story, be prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was 18, young and dumb, I got married, to a man 10 years my senior.  I knew very little about the man that I married.  He turned out to be a registered sex offender, a drug addict and an abuser.  I was married to him for a year and a half, and had a son with him.  My son is now almost 4.&lt;br /&gt;Since the divorce, my ex has been in and out of jail, for things as small as driving without insurance to an aggravated assault charge that earned him 5 years in prison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was pregnant with my son, my ex would get drunk and beat on me, not caring that I was pregnant.  He did things that I would rather not mention here, but that were cruel and horrible.&lt;br /&gt;I almost miscarried at 7 months pregnant because of it.  After my son was born, we were evicted from our home and had to go live with my grandparents.  While living there, he abused me and, on several occasions, could very well have killed my son.  He shook him, hit him, and almost smothered him from rolling over on him in his sleep.  On one occasion, the day he was kicked out of my grandparent's house and I called a lawyer, he threw my then 3 month old son at my grandmother and knocked her down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the divorce was started, he called harassing me several times, and I called the police on him.  I now have a permanent restraining order on him, and is currently serving time in prison.  I found out today that he has gotten some other poor, stupid kid pregnant, and she is trying to get paternity tests and child support out of him.  Good luck girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently owed almost $10,000 in back child support, and he hasn't seen my son since February of 2005. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My current husband and I were talking a few months ago, and the conversation was about what would happen to my son if I died before he was 18.  Needless to say, the thought scared the hell out of me.  Then my husband said that he would like to adopt my son.  The only way to do that though, is to have my ex either sign away his rights to my son, or to have them forcibly taken away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today, I called a family lawyer, and have an appointment to meet with him tomorrow.  When I talked to him on the phone, he said that it sounds like we have a very solid case and that he wants to give us a free consultation to get all the information he needs.  I'm terrified that I may have to face that monster again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-1811206590163174460?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/1811206590163174460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=1811206590163174460' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/1811206590163174460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/1811206590163174460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/scared-to-death.html' title='scared to death'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-6428917631077275197</id><published>2008-10-31T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T11:29:38.909-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween madness</title><content type='html'>Happiest of Hallows to all!! &lt;br /&gt;I took the boys out trick-or-treating last night.  My aunt and her 2 (almost 3) year old son came with us, as did my mother.  Someone please kindly smack me next year if I end up getting the stupid idea to go out in a group again.  It was just a bit more hassle than I was prepared for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be prepared...long story (possibly confusing) to follow.....&lt;br /&gt;I work 30 or so miles from home.  The trip is a 45 minute commute one way.  Trick or treating started at 6 pm.  So I get home, and get the kid's in their costumes at my grandma's house.  Grandpa then informed me that it wasn't safe to leave the dog outside, not that we were worried about him hurting someone, but that maybe someone would turn him loose or hurt him.  So I go home to put the cat in her kennel for a while so he can be in the house (cat hates the dog), and I can't find her.  So I spend 10 minutes or so looking for her, calling for her, and shes not coming.  I thought she had gotten outside and ran away.  So I took the dog in and bawled like a baby for 5 minutes about not being able to find the cat.&lt;br /&gt;It took us a half hour to get the 1st 3 houses, since we had to go to those houses special (as it was Great-grandma, and 2 elderly great aunts)  We were done by 7:30 because True had fallen off of someone's porch.&lt;br /&gt;I get home by 8:30, put the kids in bed, and lo-and-behold...I find the cat.  She was perched atop a 6 ft tall bookcase, and I have no idea how she got up there, as there is nothing for her to jump on to get up there.&lt;br /&gt;Both my kids ended up sick, so I was up all night trying to cure belly aches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fun fun for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-6428917631077275197?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/6428917631077275197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=6428917631077275197' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/6428917631077275197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/6428917631077275197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween-madness.html' title='Halloween madness'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-2534404560090908728</id><published>2008-10-30T11:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T11:56:12.852-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fishing fun.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; Heres a couple of neat pictures.  The first is my dad holding a 50 lb flathead that he caught.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262989659318400738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_I916XgfTHfU/SQnlNew6NuI/AAAAAAAAAAk/YguzbMFAX5c/s320/fish+9.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The second picture is (from l to r) me, my son Kaden, my brother Garould holding a 23 lb flathead that they caught the same night, my cousin Treavor, and my son True.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262989651793793282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_I916XgfTHfU/SQnlNCu50QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/yxZwrPUlDtI/s320/fish+2.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just a short post to see if I could get the picture thingy to work.  Tee hee it did.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-2534404560090908728?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/2534404560090908728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=2534404560090908728' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/2534404560090908728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/2534404560090908728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/10/fishing-fun.html' title='Fishing fun.'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_I916XgfTHfU/SQnlNew6NuI/AAAAAAAAAAk/YguzbMFAX5c/s72-c/fish+9.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6024888157043312642.post-2456375587813355815</id><published>2008-10-03T13:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T14:16:22.098-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='about me'/><title type='text'>Fresh start</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I have seen a lot of people I know using this, so I figured, what the hell, and I'd give it a try.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;A little about me.  My name is Rachel (duh, right?).  I am from Iowa, a very small town called Melcher-Dallas.  I'm married (husband- Chance), and we have a full house...2 kids, True (will be 4 in Nov.) and Kaden (just turned 1 in Aug.), a german shepherd, JayJay,  and a cat, Baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I sell insurance.  I love music.  I fish, hunt, and can fix my own car.  I love to swim.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;My family is my life.  I would do anything for them, which I have proven to them many times.  I also know they would do anything for me, which they have done more than I could ever ask of them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I don't really have a whole lot of friends, but it's more that all the friends I did have, I have drifted away from, and many of them, I don't like what they've become.  I miss high school, where everything was so uncomplicated and the only thing I had to worry about were my grades and not getting caught smoking outside the school.  Not like now, where before I can make a decision, I have to think about how it's going to affect people other than myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I have a potty mouth, so be warned.  It may slip up from time to time.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6024888157043312642-2456375587813355815?l=12rachellyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/feeds/2456375587813355815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6024888157043312642&amp;postID=2456375587813355815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/2456375587813355815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6024888157043312642/posts/default/2456375587813355815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://12rachellyn.blogspot.com/2008/10/fresh-start.html' title='Fresh start'/><author><name>rachellyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17667168943402970855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
