Written @ 8:59 a.m. on 2007-07-21
Tinkerbell

The girls were playing outside. P was doing an unsafe thing. I was inside. My ex drove up, saw P. doing the unsafe thing, and kicked the door in, freaking out that she wasn't being supervised properly.

I ran up the stairs and locked the three of us in the bedroom and called 911. The cops spoke to my ex first. The cops were convinced by my ex's story that I was neglecting my kids, and told me that they "didn't see" the kicked in door. It was like a "bad cop" movie. I was standing there with splintered wood in my hand and the cop was telling me,"Looks like it was like that before, ma'am." He actually used the words "bad mother" and insisted that it was necessary to get social services involved.

My brother-in-law is high up in the fire department, and I think maybe my ex dropped some names, and that is why there was a complete lack of justice. Don't know.

Want to know what P. told me she was doing? She says she tied a jumprope around her waist, and one end to a bush, and she was trying to fly like tinkerbell.

B. came running, and brought his mom, who was a tremendous help. She watched the girls while B. and I ran for an emergency PFA (restraining order). The red tape was unbelieveable. The judge gave me a sound lecture for not already having him under a pfa, but I got one. Of course, every dead woman has a pfa, so I'm not counting on it changing much.

I guess this is the end of the children playing out front.

I am terrified. Not of my ex, but of what social services will make of me letting the girls play out front. I already have had so many experiences skewed because of my ex's portrayal of perfectly harmless events.

I can't believe those cops.

I slept snuggled between both of the girls. I wanted to have them right next to me. They are very upset, but seem to be more resilient than me.

I thought I was done with these battles.

Starting to think maybe I am a bad mom.

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