Looking for the lesson Pt. 2

You know what sucks?  This is what sucks.

He looks so....so....right. Content.  Perfect.

Those should be our daughters, not my cousins.

I love her little hand around his neck.

It makes me want to smile and cry all at once.

This should be his grand-daughter

I didn't find these until Monday when I was working on the post about the party.  I was sitting at my computer, choosing photos while the homeless pregnant chick sat at the table across from me.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After we arrived home from Stan's party we went to Wal-Mart.  Since you just don't disobey God, I headed for the pharmacy aisle looking for prenatal vitamins.  I got some calcium chews too because I doubt that she had enough calcium in her diet, what with being homeless and all.  While we were there, Drew told me that he wanted to cook dinner for Maurice and his girlfriend, that 'they should have at least one hot meal.'  I nearly lost it right there, but I was trying really hard to support my husband.  I was already feeling the stirrings of ugliness because of this girl and I really just wanted them both to go away.  Yet we bought stuff for spaghetti and meatballs and after picking up the mulch, we headed home.

I was dreading seeing them.  I'd had no interaction with either of them to this point and I had no idea how far along she was.  They showed up about five minutes after we got home.  She was very short, about five feet and rather round.  She wasn't fat per se, but there was no discernible bump.  She was just sort of - round.  Kind of roly-poly.  Looking at her, I felt the beginnings of a panic attack.  Simply being around her was making me anxious.  Drew and Maurice got started weeding the front garden and I took her inside to chat.

She and Maurice had been in Dallas for two weeks.  They left Longview to escape the baby's father (who was not Maurice - awesome) who had beat her and stabbed her.  Awesome.  She and Maurice had known each other for three years and I got the distinct impression that he was more emotionally attached than she was, that perhaps she was just looking for a ticket out of Longview.  But whatever - I gave her the vitamins for which she was extremely grateful.  "Thank you so much ma'am.  I really appreciate this - I'm almost three months and I haven't been to see a doctor or anything."  The fire in my gut started to glow - Of course you haven't seen a doctor yet, and I bet your baby is as healthy as can be.  My breath started to get shallow.

Then Drew asked me to start dinner.  

I can't cook.  Cooking stresses me out - there is nothing fun about it for me.  On my best day, I have to have a detailed recipe with all the measuring cups and spoons and I hyperventilate when I read things like 'a pinch' or 'a dash' or anything else imprecise.  I hate cooking.  Drew knows this, yet he was all 'Babe, can you start the sauce?'  As if I know what the hell that means.  As if I'm trying not to fall on the floor in a ball because there is a pregnant girl in my house.  And I went off on him.  'What the hell does that mean, start the sauce?  You know I can't cook!  You know you have to spell it out for me!'  My chest started to get tight.

He walked me through putting the tomato paste with some oil in a pot, combining that and then adding the diced tomatoes, and then he went back outside.  I put in all four cans of diced tomatoes, because I told him in Wal-Mart not to over-buy like he always does and only get what we need.  After he snapped at me for getting an attitude, he put four cans in the cart.  So *I* put four cans in the pot.  Because I said not to over-buy so obviously we needed four cans.  Guess what - we only needed two!

WTF Drew!  I told you I can't do this!  I have no idea why we're cooking anyway!  Yes, that's tomatoes on my fucking shirt because I had to put it in a larger pot because the pot I started with was too small!!  Why am I even doing this?  You know you can't just tell me put some of this and some of that, you KNOW this shit stresses me out, youKNOWIcan'tdothis!

At that point, I was talking about the sauce AND the girl.  Then here comes my good buddy God.

Buy them some clothes.

WHAT?  NO!  Are you kidding me?  NO!

Whatsoever you do to the least of these.....

Okay, NOT FAIR.  No fair quoting Bible verses!  Come on!!

After going outside to apologize to them (the girl had snuck outside when I was yelling at Drew) I pretty much told the girl to get in the car, that we were going to Target.  I was so agitated I could barely breathe and I don't think anything coherent came out of my mouth on the way over.  The girl was quiet and followed my lead as I grabbed a cart and shoved my way through the aisles.  My heart was pounding as I tried to keep my voice steady as we picked through the clearance rack, looking for some things for her to wear.  I chose a couple of tops and asked if she liked them.  She said yes but that she wouldn't be able to try it on since she didn't have a bra.  My pulse got more erratic - how do you not have a bra?  I manhandled my cart and plowed our way over to the bras.  On the way, she pulled out her phone to show me a picture. (And I have no idea how she has a phone.  Maybe they paid for the month before she left and it's about to get cut off.  Maybe she's lying about the whole homeless thing.  I don't know.)

Of her two other kids.  Ages 3 and 1.  I nearly fainted in the lingerie section.

OF COURSE she has two other kids.  Of course.  In as steady a voice as I could manage I asked where they were.  With her mother in California.  And why don't you want to go out there to be with them and your mother?  Because she needs to get on her feet and she's afraid if she goes out to California she'll end up back on drugs.  At that point, I was full-on yelling at God.

WHY??  What are you doing here?  Where's the lesson in this?  She has THREE kids and I have none!  How does an alleged former drug addict get to have three babies!  How does she get to have another after the first two get taken away?  Why are you doing this?  Really?  On Mother's Day?  She doesn't even have a bra!  Or a toothbrush!  Or deodorant!  And you KNOW I can't just be like 'wow that must suck for you.'  You know I'm going to do something and you know I don't want to!  What are you trying to teach me?  I can't breathe.

And that is how I came to spend $300 at Target buying maternity jeans, socks, underwear, bras, t-shirts for them both, stretchy pants for her, jeans for him, toothbrushes, toothpaste and deodorant.  Manic shopping - like binge eating, except the money doesn't come back.  

I didn't mean to spend that much money and I'm really mad at myself for it.  I think I kept picking up shirts to keep from screaming and crying and embarrassing myself at Target.  Finally, we left and thankfully, by the time we'd gotten home Drew had made the spaghetti sauce.

Then came dinnertime.  I guess she felt comfortable with us now, since we let them both take a shower and they changed into their new clean clothes.  I even pegged the legs of the maternity jeans because she was so short - and I do NOT sew y'all.  I have no idea what came over me.  Anyway, she shared more of her story.  There was another kid!!  I nearly choked on a meatball when she said that.

This one was six and lived with his dad in Longview.  THIS little boy was mixed too - isn't that special.  I glared into my spaghetti and tried not to cry.  So that's four kids.  Four kids for the drug addict and none for Desiree.  I know that this kind of thing happens all the time, drug addicts having kids.  I just don't normally have them over for dinner.  I wanted the night to end - the pregnant girl was making me so ugly and I hated that.  Every time she rubbed her belly at dinner, I wanted to punch her.  I wanted to scream that I should be pregnant, NOT YOU.  You don't have a house, you don't have a husband who looked so handsome in his suit, whose arms were made to hold a little girl in a frilly dress. NOT YOU.  IT SHOULD BE ME. 

I hated that I couldn't be better than that.  That I couldn't look past the fact that she was pregnant and just help someone in need.  I wanted them to go away because I didn't like the way they made me feel and I hated that.  Nonetheless, I took Drew aside in the kitchen and told him that after dinner they had to go.  But not before Crystal proudly stated that Maurice was going to take the money he earned from Drew and buy some extra blankets for them.  I was screaming in my head as I went in our closet and got some blankets that we don't use and gave them to her, telling them to use that money for something else.  Please God, just make them go away.  I can't hold back the tears too much longer.  It's Mother's Day for fux sake.

Finally they left and I just sat on the sofa mindlessly watching a movie, so drained I could barely function.  I felt like I'd held my breath the entire day and forgot how to exhale.  And it wasn't over.

The next day Maurice came back and brought Crystal with him!  Oh joy!  I sat at my computer in the breakfast nook while she sat across from me and basically twiddled her thumbs.  I couldn't even talk to her.  Every time she got up to pee saying "Oh I hate this baby, it makes me pee so much haha"  I wanted to dissolve in tears and beg her to just leave and take her drug-damaged yet perfectly functioning uterus with her.  But I didn't.  Instead I did some Google searches for shelters and made some phone calls and wrote down names and addresses for them, telling them that 20 bucks here and 10 bucks there won't get them out from under the bridge.  They needed to find work and there are plenty of options nearby that won't require a car.  

They were at the house for over two hours until finally finally thank the baby Jesus FINALLY they were done.  I told Drew that they could not come around anymore.  This is our neighborhood, these are our homes and we have a right not to be disturbed in our homes.  He said he would tell them and I trust that he did.  He and I went to dinner that night and I was spent.  

Why couldn't they have just been homeless?  Why did she have to be pregnant?  Why did it have to be Mother's Day?  Why did such venomous thoughts run through my head?  Why did I allow myself to be jealous of a homeless girl?  Why did I get tunnel vision, forgetting all my blessings and focusing on what I don't have?  Why was I weak?  Why couldn't I have been more gracious? What was I supposed to learn from this and why don't I feel like I learned it?

I saw them walking down the street today, near the bridge where they're staying.  I hoped they didn't see me or recognize our car, and I hated myself for that.