I arrived at the court house at 9:00 a.m.

The court clerk recognized me in the hallway, and relayed to me that the defendant had arrived and was in the court room.

When I entered the court room, I was surprised to see that not only was “J” there, but also the potential father “Tom”, the friend who “J” now wanted to give Zoey to, and her husband, and her Aunt Bertha.

Seeing them all reminded me of the Gruesome’s who used to live next door to the Flintstones…

The one who surprised me most was Bertha.  I have been dealing with her since I got Zoey.  I have allowed her to pick up Zoey on Saturday’s from noon to 6 or 7 p.m., and also on Wednesday afternoon’s from 4 to 7 p.m.  I felt that she had a right to spend time with Zoey since she was the only one who seemed to really care about her.

While Zoey was with her, “J” was allowed to be present at her home to visit with Zoey also.  The case worker had given specific instructions that at no time was “J” allowed to be alone with the baby.  She had to have constant supervision.  As far as I knew Bertha had agreed to comply with that, and stated that she would never allow “J” to be alone with Zoey, or to take her anywhere.  We seemed to be getting along fine.

The Judge started by asking “J” why she filed the motion to change custody.  Completely ignoring everything that had been written about me in the actual motion, she claimed she wanted the baby with her friend so she would be able to see her more often.  The Judge then asked “Tom” how he felt.  He quietly stated he wanted Zoey with her too.

The Judge then turned to me.  I first addressed the issue that since no paternity has been established for “Tom” that he had nothing to do with the issues at hand, and his desires were irrelevant.  I then briefly described the relationship I’ve had with “J” for the past 11 years, and what led up to her leaving my home.  (These issues will be addressed in chapters 3 and 4 which will be posted soon)

Then the case worker spoke on my behalf.  She verified that “J” has consistently not shown up for drug testing, and has failed to comply with all Children’s Services’s requests.  She stated that the recommendation of dyfus is that Zoey remain with me.

The Judge asked me if “J” has given me any money to help support Zoey.  Of course the answer to that was no.  Not a cent.  And I pointed out another new tattoo that “J” had on her arm.  I explained that anytime “J” got money it was spent on drugs, alcohol, and her needs only, without a thought of what Zoey may need.

The Judge asked me if I would be willing to allow “J” to come to my house so I could supervise visitation of her and Zoey.  My skin crawled, but I agreed.  “J” chose to visit Zoey on Tuesdays and Thursdays from noon to 2:00.  Although I am not looking forward to it, I have my doubts that she will even show up.

At that point the Judge made her decision that Zoey would stay with me.  The weight was finally lifted from my shoulders and I could breath again.

Of course it was at that point the whole clan chimed in with complaints.  They argued with the Judge.  And Bertha asked if she could apply for custody next.  She was told by the Judge that anyone who is a U.S. citizen could apply for custody of her.  But made it clear that applying for custody of Zoey and getting it were two different things.  She stated that unless there were circumstances that made it reasonable to take Zoey from me, I would retain custody until “J” complied with dyfus, and got her life in order.  She also made it clear that paternity would have to established and all three men would need to apply for DNA testing.

Zoey is still mine.

I couldn’t be happier knowing she is still safe.

After our case was finished I notified the Judge that Zoey had her first doctor’s appointment that afternoon and that I needed medical history from the family.  She told them to meet with myself and the case worker in the hallway to fill it out.  “J” refused and left.

Bertha did her best to fill in the missing information.  I sat patiently with her explaining what each complicated question meant.  Such as, “Any history of heart disease in the family?”  “Any history of glaucoma?”  Believe it or not she didn’t understand what any of these things were.  You see Bertha is retarded.  Not the funny kind of retarded that most of my friends are, the real special Olympics kind.  She doesn’t drive, nor does anyone in the family, yet she wanted to be listed as emergency contact.  I explained that being an emergency contact means you may have to be there in an emergency…I’m still not sure if it sunk in.

The funniest part was when we got to the questions, “Any history of mental illness?” and “Any history of drug or alcohol abuse?”  She claimed no for both.  I looked at the case worker and without saying a word I knew she was thinking the same thoughts as me.

As nicely as I could muster I said, “Bertha…you’re whole family is addicted to either drugs or alcohol.  As a matter of fact Zoey’s mother is an addict, that is why we are all here.  And please don’t deny mental illness and mental disability.”   She looked at me with a blank expression and I knew at that moment she had no idea she was retarded.

I wish her luck trying to get custody…

On a lighter note, Zoey is now 11 lbs 14 oz.  She’s my little porker.

She is healthy, and has now finally gotten her first shots.

Zoey is on her way to becoming a happy, healthy, little girl.

Thank you for your support during this.  You have all proven yourself true friends.  And also thank you for your patience with me.  I know I haven’t been around much lately, but I promise now that this has passed I will be around to brighten your days with my filthy evil ways.  I have a fun blog coming up for myspace.  I need to let my hair down and raise some hell over there.  I’m looking forward to it.

First I want to apologize for being so behind on posting chapters.  I have been incredibly busy, and my Spring OCD cleaning has been raging.

I am not posting chapters three and four yet.  Some of the information I have in them will be used in court, and from what I understand people from my real life are reading these blogs also.  Once the next court date passes I will be able to post them.  Please be patient.

Zoey’s Story: Chapter Five.

On February 24, 2009, “J” filed court papers to request a change of custody for Zoey.  The papers were filled out by someone named “Ann” (name has been changed).   “Ann” claims she is a licensed foster parent, who is taking care of two older foster children at the present time.

Within this motion to the court was a page long explanation of the reason for this request.  It was also written by Ann, who has never met me, nor has she met any of my children.  Every reason listed was fabricated, and exaggerated to the extreme to make me appear to be a serious risk to Zoey’s well being.  Although the words were not written by J, she signed the sworn statement and was granted an emergent hearing before the Judge.

Since I wasn’t present at the hearing, I am unaware if testimony was taken.  But from the copy I received I do know that the Order to Show Cause, was denied, as not emergent.  The Judge converted it to a motion to be heard on March 20, 2009.  The dyfus worker in the case was contacted and she verified that I am taking good care of Zoey.  J did not meet her burden of showing immediate and irreparable harm to Zoey.  I was blessed with my Zoey for another few weeks.

During the short time that J lived with me in February, she mentioned numerous times how this “Ann” was angry that Zoey was not placed with her.  She condemned J for giving me custody.  J confided in me that “Ann” was receiving $6000.00 a month for the two boys she already had in her care, and that she wanted the extra money that fostering Zoey would bring her.

J also told me that the older boy, who is 14, is trouble.  She stressed that she did not trust him around Zoey and that she was afraid that if Zoey was placed with “Ann” she would no longer be able to see her.

Let me state here that I receive no financial support from the state for Zoey.  I am not fostering her.  I have full legal custody of her.  Meaning when I signed that paper she became my sole responsibility.  As if I was her biological mother, all support of her is to be provided by me.  I have nothing to gain financially for caring for her.  All I do for her is out of love.  All I gain is knowing that she is safe, nurtured, loved, and happy.  To me, those things are more important then any dollar amount.

It sickens me every day that the legal system can allow a child to be used as a pawn.  As if she has no feelings, she can be pulled from those she has bonded with, and deposited with a complete stranger in the name of Justice.  The Court follows rules and standards that have long needed a complete overhaul when dealing with children.  What is not taken into account is the emotional well being of the child.

Zoey has been with me since January.  She will be 12 weeks old this coming Saturday.  Three months old the day after I need to appear in court.  The day after her fate will be decided by strangers for strangers.  Zoey does not even know her real mother.  All she knows is that I am the one who has been caring for her for 7 weeks.  In her little eyes, I am her mother.  There is no way to explain, or prepare an infant for what may come.  These may be the last days I have her.

Not a moment goes by that this does not haunt me.  I hold her as much as I can.  I take the extra time to smell her little head so I can somehow store her scent in my memory forever.  Each time she looks into my eyes and smiles just for me, my heart breaks a little bit more.  As I pick her little lint collection from her fists each day, I wonder how she will deal with never seeing me again.  We have come to know each other like a book.  She knows that there is a consistent schedule that will be followed every day.  She knows she can depend on me.  She trusts me, she has bonded.

I know what every cry means.  Every grunt.  I know her fake cough that she uses to get my attention.  She learned that sound by hearing me cough for the past two weeks from this lousy flu/cold.  She thinks it’s funny.  She laughs at me with her eyes, and her big toothless grin.

Like I did with my granddaughter, I’ve taught her to stick out her tongue.  When she wants to play she will stick her tongue out at me, and she knows that I will laugh and stick mine back out at her.  She is learning cause and effect from our simple play times.

I know that every day, around the same time in the afternoon, she practices PMS time.  She gets incredibly fussy.  While everyone else is driven crazy, and leaves the room, she knows I will stay with her.  I do what I can to comfort her, because I know she is just releasing frustration.  Her nervous system is young, and crying is actually soothing to her.  I don’t find it annoying.  I treasure it.  My fear is someone new, who doesn’t understand her.  Someone who does get annoyed by the high pitched screeches.  Someone with less patience then me.  Someone who will shake her until she stops crying…maybe forever.

These are the kinds of things the Court wont know.  The things they care little about.  Although I will be going to Court armed with so much evidence against J, and will be able to prove her decision making skills are flawed, she is still Zoey’s mother.  Sadly that takes a higher priority then my 24/7 care giving skills.

I want to mention that “Karen” (name has been changed) our dyfus worker, will be attending Court with me.  She will testify on mine and Zoey’s behalf.  Her goal is to keep Zoey with me, but in the end the Judge makes all final decisions.  I refuse to even guess at the outcome.  I have felt like I have something stuck in my throat for over a week now.  I finally realize it is my heart.
On March 12, 2009, I received an amended Court order.  The previous order has been amended to add the “father” of Zoey in the decision making.  Call me nit picky, but I was under the impression that if there was more then one possible “father” paternity had to be established before making claim to a baby.  Maybe I just watch too much Maury…

So this “father” I will call “Tom” has been added and will also be attending the hearing.  Zoey is just about 3 months old as I stated earlier.  Now this “father” decides to “lay claim” on this precious angel.  The reasoning?  Well he must be the father because the other two men are black.  Zoey is white.  They don’t want to consider that logically, since the two other possible sperm doners are mixed race, it’s quite possible that Zoey’s skin color would be white.  Without a DNA test there is no possible way to tell who’s sperm hit the egg first.  I’ve learned I am dealing with morons of the highest caliber.  And did I forget to mention that J had told me early on that she didn’t want “Tom” to be the father because he had raped her while she was under the influence.?  I wonder if that will be forgotten in her game of pass the baby.

Let me also mention that on March 3, 2009, I filed a motion with family court for child support from J.  Could the recent amended order have anything to do with that?  Of course taking Zoey from me would end that.  Sounds like a good enough reason to buddy up with “daddy” so they can both get out of being responsible.

In all honesty, if it took me not getting any child support from either the mother or the father in exchange for Zoey’s safety, I would refuse it.  I have come to learn from my ex-husband that having an order for support is by no means a guarantee of receiving support.  I have raised my biological children without help, I would do the same for Zoey.

While I write this, Zoey is napping next to me.  Her angel fine hair is starting to grow finally.  She smiles in her sleep.  She is content.  My poor little girl has no idea just how cruel the world can be.  With all of my heart I hope she wont have to find out this week.

Here is my Zoey.

Before I go any further into what is going on now, I believe I should give you a bit more insight into J and exactly how deep I am entangled in her world.  It will also explain why I bonded with Zoey so quickly, and felt such a deep instinct to protect her.  Raising a child from infancy to adulthood is no easy task.  Anyone with children will tell you that it is quite possibly the hardest job a human being will undertake in their life.  From the minute of birth, you embark on a journey that will never end.

I can remember how bad I wanted to be a mother before my first child was born.  I was 25 years old when I became pregnant with my oldest daughter.  I had been engaged to her father who had been my first love from 8th grade through out high school.  We lived together at the time when “A” was conceived.  I had been using the birth control pill as contraception.  Although I took my pill every day there was a failure in protection.  Looking back I have to assume that the use of an antibiotic for a respiratory  infection compromised the effectiveness of it.  Needless to say I was unaware that I had conceived, and continued to take the pill and got what I thought was my period for 4 months following it.

I became aware of my pregnancy when I was almost 5 months into it.  I had been feeling strange, and had all the symptoms of being pregnant.  While I thought I was crazy I decided to take an at home test to be sure.  Back then they didn’t have the quick result tests they do now.  You had to use your first morning urine and the directions were much more specific then now.  These days you can take the test at anytime of day with which ever pee you feel deserving.  Anyway I awoke long before the alarm went off for work.  So I took a wiz into my little cup, since back then you also didn’t have the convenience of just taking a leak on the stick.  I dipped the stick for the required amount of time, set the test on the sink and went back to bed.

When it was finally time to get up and start my day, I went to check it.  Low and behold there it was.  Clear as a bell with no denying I was pregnant.  At first I felt disbelief.  Then as if it was choreographed like a sick Hitchcock movie, the pain started.  It was the most intense cramping I had ever had.  Within seconds the blood came.  At this point I’m not sure if I was in shock, but I believed I was getting my period again.  I knew the test had to be wrong.  I called work, which by coincidence was in a radiology lab in a hospital, and let them know what was going on.  They advised me to make an appointment with my gynecologist.  I made the appointment for later on in the day and went in to work.

Since radiology and the ultra sound department were both part of my departments, I spoke with the woman who ran ultra sounds and she made arrangements with me to sneak me in for a quick look into my lady parts.  Between appointments she had scheduled I drank my required water to fill my bladder, and held it until she was clear.  I laid on the table, and no sooner did she put the baby finder on my abdomen there she was.  I was definitely pregnant.  The rest of the day is pretty much a blur.

I attended my doctor appointment, and they gave me a blood test to confirm pregnancy, and sent me for…an ultra sound of course.   The ultimate diagnosis was that because I had continued taking the pill while I was pregnant it had caused a blood clot on my placenta.  This is where the bleeding had been coming from that I had mistaken for periods.  I was ordered complete bed rest, and my pregnancy levels were checked weekly to make sure they were rising, ensuring that the baby was still viable.  I also received monthly ultra sounds.  I watched my baby grow each month and begged her to hold on.  She was a threatened miscarriage for 8 months until the clot bled out.  Then 2 weeks before my due date “A” was born.  Because of the clot there were complications after she was born.  During the time the clot healed itself my placenta had grown attached to my uterus.  Since I couldn’t deliver the placenta, I was sent to surgery immediately.  As they were putting me to sleep in preparation for surgery the only thing I remember was catching a glimpse of my daughters hand in the incubator as they wheeled her out of the room.

I was finally able to hold “A” around 4:00 that afternoon.  I was instantly in love with her.  There is no other way to describe it.  I finally felt complete, and I was blessed with a beautiful healthy baby girl.

Six weeks later at my post check up, I asked the doctor if they could put her back.  “A” had colic until she was 6 months old.  She started crying the day we left the hospital and did not stop for 6 long, grueling months.  In my pre baby mind, I had pictured a cuddly little lump of baby fat, smiling, and cooing like a heavenly angel.  It had never even occurred to me that having a baby could be anything but.  Reality had kicked me right between the eyes, and finally the realization hit me that this was it, forever.  No give backs.  No refunds.  My whole life changed and from the day she was born for the rest of my life.  She became number one priority and I took a back seat.  As was the same with each of my other two children.

If only people could realize ahead of time that having a baby is forever.  It’s the rest of your living days.  I cannot instill enough into young people that you must take having a baby seriously.  Do what you want with your life first.  All young people are selfish to some extreme.  Please hold off on bringing a child into this world until your mind reaches the maturity of your body.  Babies are not toys, nor are they possessions.  They are tiny little innocent humans and you are responsible for molding them into adults.  How could you possibly take on this incredibly hard challenge if you yourself have yet to finish your transition into a responsible adult?  It breaks my heart every time I see a young mother with a baby.  I doubt that will ever change with me.

Now back to Zoey.

Five years ago when I took her mother in, I had no idea how life would twist and turn in some of the cruelest ways to bring me where I am now.  Like Kevin Bacon and the 6 degrees of separation, I was destined to know and love Zoey.  We were connected before she was even conceived in a way that even I never expected.

Chapter three will be coming soon.

I’ve decided to write these blogs in the form of an online journal to chronicle the events taking place from when I first met Zoey, until such time that documentation of her young life is no longer needed.  Not only will these blogs serve as evidence for any court appearances that need specifics of her case, but to also serve as a guide to the risks involved for anyone facing the tough choice of surrendering  your heart in order to give safety and security to a child that is not biologically your own.

For privacy purposes no real names besides Zoey’s will be used.  Zoey’s birth mother will be referred to as “J”, and the C.S. worker on her case “C”.  Any other names will also be changed to protect those involved.

This is Zoey’s story.

I first met Zoey approximately 9:00 pm on a Saturday night the first week of February 2009.  Her mother had claimed she wanted to bring the baby to my home so I could see her.  In previous years “J” had lived with me for short periods of time on and off when she had to escape her drug addicted mother, and alcoholic father.  She was a seriously disturbed, problematic teenager, and each time I had taken her in and tried my best to help guide her in the right direction, it did no good.  I was always left to clean up the chaos and destruction she left in her path.  Although I understood the root of what she had become, I also knew that no matter what hand we are dealt in life, we are ultimately the force behind the decisions we make.  We all choose our path in this life, and when we consistently make the wrong choices we are sometimes forced to walk alone.  This was the case of Zoey’s mother.

At first glance Zoey appeared to be extremely tiny.  She was thin, homely, and smelled as if she hadn’t been bathed in quite some time.  Part of me didn’t want to touch her, but the mother in me pushed through and took over.  It’s hard to even explain what was going on in my head at that moment when I first picked her up.  I knew her history, or most of it anyway.  I had heard about J’s pregnancy and the horror stories of how she lived.  Months back before I ever thought I’d even see Zoey, I feared the baby would be born, deformed, addicted, or even dead.

Zoey’s father could be one of three men.  None of which were even worth the sperm they dropped to conceive her.  J had been homeless though out most of her pregnancy.  She lived on the streets, and continued her risky lifestyle as if the baby didn’t exist.  She had no pre-natal care.  She continued to smoke pot, cigarettes, pop pills, and drink, oblivious of the fact that this innocent baby was sharing all substances she was putting in her body.  J had burned almost all bridges with anyone who would have stepped in to help.  And those who did try to help were used, and eventually they too turned their backs.

During her pregnancy, J stole a car.  She was arrested and ended up in jail for joy riding.  Still even that wasn’t enough to turn her around. It did get Children’s Services involved though.  Not that they had any effect on J to change her patterns.  Once released from jail she took back to the streets, and bouncing from house to house taking advantage of everyone she knew.

Zoey was born a week late, and was held in the hospital for 5 days after her birth by C.S.  She was tested for drugs, and treated for infection.  For reasons unknown to me as yet, she was still released back into her mothers care. J was set up in a shelter and given another chance to get her life together. Unfortunately, after breaking the curfew three times she was evicted from the shelter back to the streets.

The neglect continued.  Zoey was brought from house to house again.  Gang members, drug dealers and users, and a woman who has already had 6 children taken from her by the state.  These are only a few that I know of.  At no time was Zoey actually taken care of by J.  Absolutely no bonding took place between J and Zoey.  Her care was left to whomever was available.  To this day I have witnessed nothing that could pass for maternal instinct or mother daughter bonding.  As fast as she is picked up by J, she is quickly passed off to anyone within reach.

So that night when I held this baby and changed her diaper I immediately felt the need to nurture her.  J had brought her own father along with her to my home.  Both of them were drinking, and I learned that her father was living in a tent in the woods by the railroad tracks.  I was appalled but not shocked.  The area I live in consists mostly of people like this.  To them their lifestyle is common, to me it is disgraceful.  It was then that J asked if she could stay with me so I could take care of  Zoey so she wouldn’t be taken from her by the state.  She had outstanding warrants and was going to turn herself in.  Zoey never left my home from that point on.

I took full responsibility for her.  I cleaned her, fed her, nurtured her and loved her.  Within 2 weeks the change in her was amazing.  She was no longer this lifeless little creature.  She doubled her size, her cheeks became rosy, her eyes alert, and as if to melt my heart, she looked into my eyes and smiled directly at me.  It was easy to see that she had bonded with me, and in her tiny mind, I was her mother.  As much as I wanted her to trust me, I was faced with one of the biggest fears I’ve ever felt in my life.  I held this little baby’s life and heart in my own hands.  What would happen if one day J decided to move her out of my life.  The possibility was very real.

J would disappear every day.  Sometimes during the middle of the night.  I added her to my cell phone family plan to try to keep track of her.  I was worried that if something were to happen to Zoey while J was gone the state would take her.  I had no legal rights to her, and if she became sick, I  was not even authorized to take care of any medical concerns if they should arise.  I worried constantly and tried to explain to J about my concerns.  She seemed unmoved and suggested that I take legal guardianship of Zoey until she could get herself together.  I agreed.  A meeting was set up with C.S. and I was cleared to apply to the court for guardianship.  Getting J to court was another story.  She avoided it, she made excuses, she got high, drunk, lied, and started to become an incredible burden on myself and my children.  I got to the point I wanted to give up.

Then one morning J told me she was taking Zoey to visit her aunt who lives a couple blocks away from me.  She never came back.  I was sick with worry.  Through numerous phone calls I finally got a hold of her.  She was in the projects, high, and staying with a gang member, helping him sell drugs for money.  As much as I wanted to wash my hands of her whole mess, I could not leave that baby in danger.  I held my tongue and convinced her to let me come and get Zoey and told her she could stay with “T” for as long as she wanted.  Finally she agreed.  I left my house at almost 11:00 pm and met them somewhere to pick up the baby.  When I finally got her safely in my vehicle and was heading home, it was only then I could breathe a sigh of relief.  When I finally got home and took Zoey out of her car seat I found to my horror that she was not even bucked in.  J had just laid the baby in the seat and strapped the seat into my car.  It was the last straw for me.

That following morning I made a call to C the C.S. worker on our case.  I let her know what was going on.  When J finally returned home they met with her and questioned her.  She admitted she was not ready to be a mother.  She vehemently told them she wanted to turn custody over to me.  We made arrangements to go to court the next day.  Big surprise the next day she was gone again.

The following day I went in person to C.S.  At that time the worker had me call J and find out where she was.  The worker then told her she had to immediately to court to file the papers since she was due to turn herself in to the police the following day.  She agreed.  I picked her up and drove her directly to the court house.  The papers were filed in an emergent hearing, C.S. was contacted by the judge to verify my custody clearance, J answered all of their questions truthfully, signed the papers, and within 15 minutes I was handed my custody order.  I felt like I had just given birth.  I swear I was glowing.  Now I no longer had to worry about something happening to Zoey.  A huge weight was lifted from myself and my children.  Zoey became a part of our family legally.

Little did I know that the worst was yet to come.  I had just put myself into a heated custody battle with people who lived like animals and didn’t even have enough education to learn how to read.  The main antagonist turned out to be J herself.  And stuck in the middle was an innocent baby who for the first time in her short life had a stable and loving home.  As it had been with my own biological children, my strength would be tested as a parent.

Zoey’s story part two will be posted soon.

My father has a best friend.  She is a kind Italian woman.  This woman has one son.  He is her only child.  Unfortunately he is a herion addict.

Her life has been a series of highs and lows with her son.  He’s an adult child yet still she has to look after him as if he were an infant.

I have a son.  I could not imagine the kind of life I would have if my son grew up to become a drug addict.  I do worry about him, since his father is a drug addict.  I’ve seen drug addiction first hand with my ex husband.  I’ve dealt with the pain, the guilt, the enabling, and finally the tough love.  In the end although I care for him in a detached way, I really think only death will bring him peace.

I wrote this blog tonight because I had almost forgotten the pain of dealing with drug addiction.  You see, today my fathers best friend came to visit us.  She was so happy she was able to have her grandson with her.  His name is Michael and he lives in florida with his mother.  He is her son’s only child.

Michael does not live the life my children do.  My children are spoiled with all the world has too offer and so much love they take it for granted.  Today my children learned a lesson.

Michael came to visit my father with his grandmother.  He is my son’s age so they play together when he comes to visit.  Today my son brought Michael to my home.  He wanted to show Michael his favorite toys.

Little did we know that Micheal had recently lost everything he had.

One morning when he woke up he found all of his toys and his video games that his grandmother had brought him were gone.  His mother told him they had been robbed.  Michael was left with nothing.  He had no idea all of the things he found precious had been taken by his own parents and sold for drugs.  They looked that little boy in the eyes and lied to him.  They saw his pain yet their needs were stronger.  Drugs took priority over a little boys heart.

Michael was amazed by what my son had.  He couldnt stop talking about it.  He wanted to play with everything.  My son, being the kind hearted little shit he is gave Michael his prize posessions to play with.  His star wars figures.

Michael was only in the house for a short time, but when he left he left something that could have damaged my son forever.  When he was gone, so were my son’s prized Star wars figures.

Tears flowed while my son told me they were missing.

My heart broke.

I felt angry. I hate thieves.

I made a call to my father to see if he could get them back.

Then I took a deep breath and remembered what that child had lost.

Not only was he missing the pure love of both of his parents, he has lost the things that had taken their place and meant the most to him.  It was wrong but he was not to blame.

I called my father back and told him to approach Michael as if he had misplaced them.  And if he had we would understand.  He still denied taking them.  My son was devistated but I felt something else.

I explained to my son what life is like for Michael.  How he had everything that meant the world to him just taken.  How he goes to bed hungry every night and no one cares.  How he has no one to hold him when he feels bad.  How he cannot feel safe in his own home.

My son thought about it for a minute.

And his huge blue eyes filled with tears.

He no longer cared about his star wars figures. He cared about a little boy lost.

I suggested that since my son had so much and he could not even play in his room because of all the toys that maybe we should gather up things that he no longer played with and give them to Michael.  To my surprise he was excited to do it.  He ran to his room and started a huge pile of what will be our donation to this little boy who has nothing.

My son is an angel.

Not only did he show me that he can have compassion for someone during their worst time, he showed me that I as a mom had done the right job teaching him.  I raised him, alone, to show more compassion then most grown ups I know.  He is a giver.

Later as he laid on my bed watching t.v. he said to me, "mom, I want to get more things together for Michael.  For some reason it feels weird, but good inside my tummy to do it."

I have no doubt my son will grow to be a wonderful man.  He is a beautiful child inside and out.

I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing with him.

I am not a perfect mother, but I am a good mother.

Never take your children for granted.  They are the seeds of tomorrow.

Plant them, nurture them, and love them.

They will grow to be the best crop of society we have ever seen.

The owner of Strokes had another successful business in another area, so this was the grand opening of his second shop. Brett was a short arrogant man, much younger then me, but he had a baby face that just screamed lick me. Though he ran each shop his mother Lydia was the actual financier of each and was the top dog who had the last say in anything. Though you would never know that the way Brett carried himself. Brett also had a body guard who never really spoke to the girls. His main job was to escort Brett to the businesses to pick up the money each day. He was tall, dark, muscular and handsome. Definitely a nice piece of filet and all the girls drooled when he showed up.

When I entered the building there was a waiting room set up like a luxurious living room. Thick pile carpet, couches, chairs and television, all the comforts of home. It had a steamy atmosphere from the lighting and scented candles that were burning. I looked around and took inventory of the girls that were there. It kind of looked like a man’s fantasy. There were about six girls there the first day and each was very different and unique. All were very attractive and dressed to the hilt. Their hair was done perfectly and they had  tasteful accessories to accent what they were wearing. I could tell that they were all younger then me which made me feel more comfortable. It’s hard to run a business where the women are older and more experienced then you.

Brett had chosen these girls from his other  shop to start out at Strokes until I had time to hire an actual group to work only for this site. I was introduced to each girl who had chosen a stage name as they call it for working purposes. Brett showed me around to each room, ran through a list of rules and safety issues and off he went with body guard filet on his heals.

Now since I had never had any experience is this field whatsoever, I was to join in the first  session to basically learn what happens behind closed doors. As I said these girls were pros and had worked for Brett for a while so they were very comfortable with me being around.

The doors to the public opened at 10:00 a.m. and sure enough the first customer promptly arrived at that time. I checked him in and explained that since I was the new "manager" I would sit in on his session with no extra charge to him. He was happy to oblige since we charged double for two girls, triple for three and so on. Customer #1 as I will call John just for the sake of a little joke for the first time, was able to pick the girl he wanted. All girls were called to the front and introduced and he made his choice. He chose which massage he wanted, paid and was checked in.

John made his choice of girl and decided on Jade. She was a beautiful mixed race girl. If I had to guess I would think she was about 21 years old. She had  long auburn hair and beautiful green eyes that stood out against her dark skin. She asked John to follow her and at that point I appointed another girl to cover the desk for the session.

Jade led John to her room. Inside he was instructed to remove his clothing and cover himself with a fresh white cotton towel. She told him she would be back to take him to the shower. Each customer was given a table shower before the session for two reasons. Reason one being hygiene. This way each girl could be sure the customer was clean and check for anything suspicious looking in the parts department if you get my drift. Second since their clothes had to be left in the massage room and they were naked in the shower room the extras to the massage and the cost could be discussed without fear of being recorded for legal reasons.

After a few minutes Jade and I went into the room and removed our clothes while John watched. We worked as seductively and slowly as possible to burn up the clock time since really we are there to make money not to have to spend each second massaging. While I was undressing I checked out John. He was an attractive man. Nothing special, just your average guy but with the smoothest skin. His muscles rippled as he tightened his towel while we removed our panties and I could see he was getting a hard on already. Jade then led John to the table shower .

John laid on the table which was just like a regular massage table only set up for shower use. I watched as she wet him down with the warm water and it splashed up on her tits making her nipples hard. She had natural full breasts with large areola’s but her nipples were extremely sensitive and they stuck out like pencil erasers. She lathered John with soap paying special attention to his now rock hard cock. It was actually a pretty nice size, with one of those sexy helmet heads that was the same thickness of his rod, I found myself getting a bit moist at the sight of this and started wondering how I was ever going to do this everyday and not sprain my twat with masturbation.

After Jade had John rinsed off she led him back into her massage room for the actual massage. John had requested the full body massage, which in English is a massage with a hand release, or a happy ending as it is called in the business. The lights were down low and Jade had soft music playing and candles burning. John laid on the table face down first and she preceded to coat his body in warmed oil. It was so erotic to watch this beautiful naked exotic looking woman rubbing the slick oil over this muscled male body I could barley take it..Jade asked if I wanted to help with the massage and John begged me to so I couldn’t help but get my hands slick with the oil and let them glide all over his body.

Once Johns back was done he was told to roll over. It was at that point it became obvious that his excitement was at a boiling point. His cock was rock hard and the head was turning a bit purple, I could see pre-cum starting to leak from the head. Jade seductively rubbed the oil on his chest and I took over with the chest massage while she went to work at the other end. Her delicate hands lubed his dick and a soft groan escaped his mouth. She then used both hands to gently at first stroke his manhood. At that point Johns eyes rolled back in his head and he closed his eyes. My pussy was  actually throbbing because one of my hottest fantasies is men masturbating and to see this hot girl jerking this guy off was definitely a turn on.

Jade expertly applied the right pressure and started pumping his cock with one hand and swirling around the head with her other. Johns hips started thrusting and his breathing got faster. I kept working his upper body and then moved down and started massaging his legs as she worked his pulsating man meat. Johns moans got louder and Jade quickened her motion, she then reached under his dick and ever so gently cupped his balls. That was it, John started to cum and Jade being the expert that she was pointed his cock towards his chest and the cum spewed in jolts from his swollen member. To me at the time it seemed to go on forever. I remember thinking that this guy really came prepared with a full load. At that point the massage was over. John was given a towel to clean himself off and was advised to get dressed.

Once he was dressed he put the agreed upon amount of money on the table and left. Jade and I went and washed our hands. I couldn’t help it but when I looked at her I started laughing. She asked what was so funny, and I just said "damn, men are so easy." At that point both of us started laughing as we got dressed. Our friendship was formed at that moment.

I thought all the experiences would be the same as John but I was so wrong. At that point in my life I thought I had seen everything, but boy was I wrong. It just got better and better. So good as a matter of fact I stuck with the job for a year. I just couldn’t give up a great story, and every day was something new.

For the second time in less then a month, I have been blog tagged. Kit Kat has chosen to call me out on ten random facts about myself, which if you count the last random fact blog makes 20 fucking things I must confess about myself.  I feel completely violated.  But being the angel of love that I am, I’m compelled to follow through with this vile game of self destruction.

Now you all know I never tag anyone after I have been tagged.  I hate being tagged, therefore I would never want to do it to any of my friends.

Unfortunately at this time, I am feeling too much love on the Space…so since you all have not been properly hating me, I am going to exercise my right to pry into some of my friends personal business.  Yes, tag….you’re it fuckers.

1.  Chad, the love of my life…spill it twat.
2.  Nip, I want the dirt…and the good stuff too, not anything I already know.
3.   Sly, since I do not know much about you and would love to hear kinky shit.
4.  Sandra, you are a kinky closet hooker and I want everyone to know.
5.  LaLa, just because I want to fuck with your sexy ass.
6.  Dodi, well I just think you are adorable, and I’ve never seen you tagged.
7.  Deanna, because you have been slipping on ass smacks lately
8.  Shirtless Jams, just because you have shirtless in your name.
9.  Gaysil, because I find your fantasy life amusing..and I need blog material
10. Mantana, just for the fuck of it.

There you have my list…I am quite sure the last two will not complete the task, but it will make them feel warm and fuzzy for being included.

That out of the way, here are my LAST random and strange facts.

1.  I prefer plants over people. Especially crowds. I am prone to major panic
attacks.

2.  I have masturbated with several strange objects, including a ventriloquist
dummy.  He was the best date I ever had, never bitched about anything.

3.  I cannot stand to have my hands feel dry.  I use hand lotion constantly to the
point of OCD.

4.  I must have my bedroom extremely cold in order to sleep.  I think it helps to
preserve me….kind of like the morgue thing.

5.  I find the older serial killers amazing.  Today’s killers just don’t have the same
Charm.

6.  Contrary to popular belief, I do not eat my mate when I am through with him.

7.  I find breasts completely erotic. I guess you could say I am a tit woman.

8.  I was actually a stripper for a couple of years.  The money was incredible.

9.  The strangest fact you will ever hear from me….I am actually a school bus
driver….think south park…..

10.  I believe legalizing pot and prostitution would bring world peace.

There you have it.  Savor it twats.

There is something so delicious about a clean fresh cock.  Especially when it’s  rock hard.  I love an above average size with a thick head.  Lately I cant stop thinking about sucking one. Giving good head is an oral art to me.  I believe it takes talent and skill to do it just right.  I also believe it is a gift given to a deserving man.  When forced into it all the pleasure is taken away from me. When it is earned I love it.  When I take a cock in my mouth, I make love to it.  I have never had a complaint and I’ve always been told my blow jobs were the best anyone has ever had. Since I have no one to perform one on right now, I’d like to talk about it.  Maybe that will satisfy my mouth.
When I am going to take him into my mouth, I approach it slowly.  Gently I hold his cock with just my finger tips at first.  I bring my mouth as close as I can get without actually touching the head.. I breath on the tip for a moment before placing my lips very gently on tip of his swollen head.  Slowly I wrap my lips completely around it right where his helmet starts. I hold my mouth very still, and with the tip of my tongue I lick very lightly.  Just the tip of my tongue swirling slowly around.  I then take my mouth off slowly and repeat the process but this time I take a bit more of his cock into my mouth still moving very slowly, at the same time I use my tongue now to caress the top of his cock to just below the head.  By now I can feel his need to have his whole cock in my mouth, but I don’t give in to that.  I refuse to have my head pushed when I am in control of the oral love making.  I softly now use my hand to hold the shaft, as I inch my mouth further down his cock.  I use my tongue in swirling motions to make sure his cock get fully lubricated with my saliva.  As I move my mouth down I gently slide my hand down further so it is out of the way of my lips.  I go almost completely to the base of his cock and then I bring my mouth back up to the head while sliding my hand back up his shaft.  At this point I like to make eye contact.  I love to have a throbbing cock in my mouth while watching him in ecstacy for now he is completely under my control.  To me the best feeling is giving that kind of pleasure to a man who deserves it.  At that point I usually pick up the pace a bit.  I concentrate on making sure the inside of my mouth remains completely soft.  It’s like if you have ever sucked your own finger or had someone suck it, the inside of a mouth can feel like heaven. I return to sliding my mouth down his shaft with gentle sucking and at the same time with my other hand I caress his balls.  Some men like it and some don’t. I usually can tell right away. If they like it I caress gently for only a few seconds, then I focus back on his cock.  I will bring my mouth to the very top of his cock so just my lips are wrapped around the head and then I start the descent back down, right before I get to the base of his cock I will stop again and work my mouth back up and down for a few strokes then I take his whole cock down my throat.  I work my tongue and use the back of my throat in a squeezing motion on the head of his cock for a few seconds then I slide back up to the tip again.  At this point the guy usually is dying to blow a load down my throat but I still make him wait.  I use both of my hands to massage his cock, usually the left one on the shaft in an up and down motion, and the right in a gentle circular motion right under the head.  Now if my lover liked having his balls caressed I slowly move my mouth down to his balls, where I will gently lick and breath hotly on them. Very gently I take them in my mouth one at a time and suck lightly.  Sometimes both will fit in your mouth and I will do that also.  Then it’s time to finish him off.  I move slowly back up to his cock maintaining eye contact the whole time and dragging my tongue all the way up his shaft from the very base of his cock right to the head. I do not hesitate any more and suck up and down making sure he gets good and lubed up.  Every few strokes I will take him all the way down the back of my throat again but for only a few seconds. By this point I don’t mind if he grabs my hair or holds my head or face, but I don’t allow any pushing or controlling. I will use my hand to get some tightness at the base of his cock and mix it with the gentler sucking motion.  Right as he is about to cum I swallow his whole cock down the back of my throat and just gently hold him in my mouth while I squeeze the head a bit with my throat muscles.  After he comes I let him stay in my mouth for a short time while I feel him softening. I then very gently suck him out of my mouth and usually end with a delicate kiss on the head of his cock. Depending on the relationship we have I may even hold his cock in my hand to keep it warm as he slowly shrinks back to a flaccid state.

Umm, well I feel a bit better now.  So tell me, does anyone else have any stories to tell?  I want to hear it all.  What kinds of tricks do you use?  And if you’re a guy what do you like done to you the best.  Hey and if you want you can reverse the subject and tell us how you like to give lip service to your lady.  Come on, I need to hear it since I’m not getting any

Most of the clients that came to Strokes were taken on a walk in basis.  Usually the only clients that made actual appointments were our regular speciality clients.  These special clients had particular requests that we fulfilled.  They made appointments weekly or had a running appointment with certain girls for specific days of the month. Usually they would coincide with their business trips.

One of our favorite clients was Frank.  He was tall and well built.  Frank had dark silky hair, deep tanned skin,  and the chiseled features of a Greek god.  Quite honestly one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen in my life.  He held a very high level position with a well known company and traveled quite extensively.  Of course when he was in the area for business, his personal business was the first thing he attended to.

As expected Frank showed up right on time for his scheduled appointment. He had a specific girl he used every time so she was ready and waiting for him.  He chose Nikki since she was our most popular choice of the fetish girls.  Frank dropped his credit card at the desk and Nikki led him to her room.

Nikki was our wild child.  She was tall with legs to die for.  She always wore the sexiest of heels and they made her legs look even longer.  Nikki had long dark hair that had that sexy messy just rolled out of bed look, and deep hazel  bedroom eyes, and when you were near her you couldn’t help but think about sex.

Once they were in the room Frank undressed and took his position.  Though one of our rules was the shower first, with Frank that rule was bent a bit.  From us he went directly to a corporate meeting, and since there was no actual sex  involved with his fetish he was allowed to shower afterwards and by himself.  You see Frank had a foot fetish.

Once Frank was in his position kneeling in front of the chair, Nikki proceeded to take off her dress. She wore a long black dress that was slit completely up each side.  She slowly lifted it up and let Franks eyes follow,  from her sexy black heels up her tight calves, and finally over her smooth thighs.  Nikki made it a point to linger a bit before pulling it up over her black lace panties.  Then she lifted the dress over her head and shook her long hair free of it.  Her dark hair fell softly on to her breasts.  Nikki’s breasts were medium sized and very pert.  Her nipples were always hard and erect. She had just those kind of nipples that begged to be sucked.

By this time Frank was dying for her to touch him.  He was ordered to lie down on his stomach.  Frank moaned with delight as he knew what was coming. He lay down and Nikki stepped up on his back letting her stiletto heels sink deep into his flesh.  Slowly and perfectly Nikki walked down his back and on to his tight ass cheeks.  Frank started wiggling on the floor, a sure sign that he was having a hard time with his cock trying to rise in this position.  Nikki then stepped off
Franks back and very carefully stuck a long heel between the tense cheeks of Franks ass.  Franks moaning got louder and he tried to reach his hand underneath himself to squeeze his dick.  Nikki
quickly stopped him by placing a heel into his shoulder blade.

Frank stopped moving, and feeling that he had waited long enough Nikki sat her round firm ass in the chair and had Frank kneel in front of it again.  This was his favorite part.  Nikki sat back so Frank could have a perfect view of her pink pussy through her lace panties and surrendered her feet to him.  Franks cock was throbbing.  He took each foot in his hands and lovingly placed kisses all over each shiny black shoe.  Then ever so gently he removed each shoe one at a time and placed them tenderly on the floor.  He proceeded to kiss and tongue Nikki’s feet paying special attention to her toes.  He used his own saliva to lube the high curved arches of her feet.

Once her feet were dripping with his spit and hot from his breath he placed both feet on to his steaming cock.  It fit directly between the arch of her erotic feet.  Gently he started masturbating himself with her feet.  Nikki knew it wouldn’t be long because of the look in his eyes.  His beautiful dark eyes focused directly on you when he was highly aroused. You could hardly look at them but yet you couldn’t look away.  Frank noticed the dampness in the crotch of Nikki’s panties and that only turned him on more.  His hands gripped tighter and he stroked his thick rod faster with Nikki’s feet.  A deep guttural moan started to come from inside him and his body started to twitch as his balls release their honey.  He rubbed his spent meat for a few seconds longer trying to savor the feeling of Nikki’s sexy love feet.

He then got up to get the towels and soap and cleaned Nikki’s feet before he even cleaned himself.  He kissed each foot and gently slid her shoes back on.  He smiled at her and said it was time for the shower.  She smiled back and told to have a safe trip, and with a teasing wink said, next time she’d  wear red.

Ok bitches and bastards, this blog is going to be a little rant about something that I never knew existed. Yes, me queen of all that is bad has learned something new. Now, I know you are all shocked since it is well documented by other’s here in cyberville that I am all knowing, but even the most intelligent of beings can still find new and interesting things to learn. And no, I am not referring to Damn Girl’s latest blog letting the world of morons know that she is really Willy Wonka with her wondrous chocolate story. *yawn*

So my story of this discovery began on an extremely hot day in August when a few of my friends and some people I didn’t know decided it would be a great idea to go to Six Flags Great Adventure.  Well a word of advise, don’t go when it is 101 degrees outside. It was a seething pit of human sweat and putrid people dragging their obnoxious bodies onto rides that were obviously not made for Talulula the fat lady from the carnival to fit into, and then leaving their filthy bodily function slime on the same seat I was to have to sit on. But I digress.

On this particular day once arriving at the park and meeting up with everyone, I noticed something I had never noticed there before.  It was an odor that I can only compare with a cat litter box full of cat piss left out in the sun to bake.  The most hideous of smells you can imagine.  Throughout the day this rancid odor would waft past my sensitive nose at different times and for different intervals.  Being the soft spoken person I am I had to ask the others in the politist way possible if I was on the verge of having a seizure from the heat or if they too had experienced this foul gut wrenching odor.  So I said to my friends, “What the fuck is that god forsaken smell in this shit hole???”  Well instinctually everyone began sniffing the air as if there were giant lines of coke dangling right in front of our face. A gift from god you might say.
We all agreed that we smelled something…..but no one could quite put their finger on what it was.  It definitely wasn’t just sweat, but sweat mixed with something else….. Realizing we looked like a group of retarded people on a field trip with our noses in the air smelling, we forgot about it for the moment and went about on our way.

Finally the heat being way too much we headed to the water park area to cool off.  I decided to sit on a bench and have a smoke whilst the others went off to play.  One of the women from the group I didn’t know, who happens to be a smoking leper also, came over a sat down beside me.  It was at that point that the mystery smell became stronger. I was thinking that maybe she has a cat and it had pissed on her clothes and she just was so used to the smell that she didn’t even notice it. So with all the tact I could muster *snort* I inquired out of the blue, “so, do you have any cats?”  She looked at me like I had three heads and said no.  So my mind started running scenario’s trying to figure out what the fuck that smell was.  Finally she squatted down on the ground to do god know’s what and I was hit in the face with a wave of odor stronger then the power of a hurricane. Yes it was a category 5 stank.  And the realization exploded in my brain of what it was.  This bitch had twat rot.  As I felt the bile rising up into my throat she said as simple as if ordering a big mac “oh, my pussy stinks, I need to go change my tampon.”  I was dumbfounded. I sat staring at her with a blank look on my face and I’m quite sure my eye’s must have been the size of saucers.  “Come with???” she asked as if she needed company powdering her nose at the local watering hole.  I shook my head still unable to communicate except for small gasps of air that were trying to escape from my closed throat.

Anyway, she left to go to the bathroom, and I waited. And waited, and waited, and then finally I figured I had better go look for her.  I walked into the bathroom and was struck by a sight I will never forget til the day I die.  This crusty cooter bitch was standing naked from the waist down blow drying her nasty drawers under the hand blow dryer. She looked at me with innocence and explained that she had to wash the crotch of her shorts because they smelled like her pussy. She went on to say that this happens a lot, and asked me if I had the same problem…….Without uttering a word, I turned and left the bathroom and spent the rest of the day in a daze of utter coma like shock.

The moral to this story?? Well there really is none. But I learned something I never knew was actually possible. A pussy can rot.  It was then that I appreciated gay men more then I ever had in my entire life.