My children

I love my children more than anything in the world. But I have been SO blind about the situation that I have placed them in; one that they have NO control over, they are just pawns in this sick game that he and I have been playing. If I can't find the strength to leave for myself, then why can't I find the strength to give them a better life?! I kid myself that they haven't been affected by this situation, but how could they not? I know from personal experience that this leads to serious issues, yet I have continued to allow it to go on and justified that it wasn't really that bad--he has never beat them and doesn't even really interact with them, so they are not getting the brunt of it. HA--what a fool I have been!!
Let me begin with the first time we moved in together. Alyssa was just a baby, only a few months old, Alexis was just a baby also--not yet two, and Jordan was just 5. Still so young, but still old enough that they knew what was happening, probably even better than I did. I thought they were sleeping when he would come home, drunk, at 4 or 5 or 6 in the morning and lay into me--usually, not always. He got angry if I reheated his dinner in the microwave; angry if the food didn't taste the way he liked it to; angry if I served the children before him; angry if I spent too much time with them; angry if I was watching TV or doing homework or putting together a puzzle or reading a book; angry if the laundry wasn't done; angry if it was and something had slipped out; angry if someone said they had talked to me today; angry if I didn't say I had seen so-and-so; angry if the kids made too much noise; angry if the baby cried; one time he was even angry because he insisted there were three men running out of our trailer when he got home (delusional). Sometimes the fights weren't so bad, others they were. Like the time I was picked up by the neck and slung into the wall which was a good 5 feet from where we were standing; or the time he tried to rip the baby out of my arms when we were trying to leave, then removed the distributor cap from the car so I couldn't leave, he jimmied open my car door, grabbed the two girls from me, locked himself in the house with them, while Jordan and I sat outside crying and trying to figure out how to get them out of there. Then he came out and dragged me back in the house by my hair to continue beating and screaming at me in front of the kids--again, do they remember that?! The time I was slung into the wall, I ended up in the hospital for four days with a collapsed lung and a chest tube. Wasn't his fault though. Do the kids remember that? Probably, at least Jordan does.
A little later, when he broke the entertainment center and everything on it because I served the kids their dinner before I served him his. They were then 5, 6, and 10--I'm sure they remember that time. When he got into a fight with my brother in front of them, then refused to speak to me because I took my brother's "side" and they weren't allowed to see Uncle T for so long. When my mom was staying with us and I had to call the cops on him because he was threatening to hurt her for being there. My niece was there that time and the girls still talk about that. When my sister was dying of breast cancer and he screamed at me in front of the kids and his entire family that "I wish she would just hurry up and die already" because we were going to see her before we went home. They remember that. The fights, which almost came to blows with Jordan as he got older and began to not back down to his ridiculous demands anymore; Jordan still feels that I took his side during the fights, T thinks I took Jordan's--who's right--of course I always think I take my kids side and that I would have their back no matter what, but I didn't show that by staying with this asshole did I?!
When Alyssa sprained her ankle at 10, she is a big girl and had trouble maneuvering on her crutches. We had a rickety front porch step, she was too heavy for me to help. Not only did he not help her or even come to the hospital, but he actually rolled his eyes and told her that if her "fat ass would lose weight maybe she could make it up the steps without help." She remembers that.
How many other fights woke them up that I don't even know about? Like the time he tried to choke me in my sleep because my ex got his driver's license back and it must be because I was sleeping with him and had dropped child support? Or the fight on the day of my sister's funeral because I was an inconsiderate bitch who was paying no attention to how bad he was feeling right now? They were present and accounted for at that one. Or at this past Christmas when I had to call the cops on him again because he had broken my phone and was trying to hurt my cat and throw all my things outside in the rain, because I had let my son wear his sweatpants. The girls and I had to ride around for nearly two hours at 4 am because they made us leave. They remember that.
What else do they remember seeing? How many of the negative comments he has made about them and their mother have resonated in their little brains? How many times has he ignored them (their entire lives) when they just needed a dad to understand and be there for them? How many times have they seen friends with their parents and wondered why theirs couldn't be that way? How many times have they wondered if it was them that caused him to be an ass to them and to me? How many slamming doors and raised voices have they heard and what does that do over time?
At 7, Alexis asked me why it is that the mommies have to do all the work while the daddy's lay around yelling at the mommies and the kids to do things. Now at nearly 14 she believes that there are no men that treat their family right and that help out around the house and in the family. This is the legacy I have given to my children. To not expect any more from a relationship because it is a fairy tale. This is not the cycle I wanted to repeat with my own. I've been there and done that in my own childhood, why did I let it happen in theirs?!!