You really are a pile of flaming, hot garbage.
It’s a total bummer that you lost your child support just a few months into the divorce proceedings – I’m so sorry that you don’t get extra cash to spend on yourself now. We jumped through all your hoops to make sure you were comfortable with the arrangement. Your ex husband even agreed to have the kids meet with a therapist in order to ensure their comfort with a 50/50 home life that you were so against.
But you couldn’t be satisfied with that, could you, my dear torta? No. You needed to be the best damn opportunist you could possibly be to milk our kindness and love for your children. You had to take trips, switch days around, host teenagers and bands at your piss palace (wonder why they never came back), get horrifying tattoos, take your clothes off for boudoir photos (that you collage and post up in your own bedroom – again, where are all of the laughing-so-hard-you-cry emojis?!), go to parties and shows while we bathed, fed, clothed, schooled, and entertained your “babies”. Last year alone, over 40 days of free child care for you. What a lucky fat tuna you are!
My brain cannot compute how you have the audacity to keep asking for us to be there every time you don’t want to, without ever asking to make up the time. I’ve spent too many moments having to pull over on the side of the road to cry for your kids. For the day they realize that their mother has planted a field barren of fucks for them. For the day tears stream down their little faces as their minds wander with questions. For the day their giant hearts break. For the days they’ll wake up confused and blame themselves for not being good enough to love.
I will never forgive you for this.
You can hide at the thought of me. You can avert your eyes when I’m in sight. You can call me every name in the book behind my back, shit, even to my face! You can burn effigies and poke voodoo dolls in my honour. You can consult your tarot cards and shove crystals up your lumpy ass, or whatever you do with them. But for the love of anything worth a damn in this life, don’t take it out on your kids, they don’t deserve this.
It’s ok, their father and I are an unbreakable team and we stand united. We will provide them with all the things you lack. We will give them the tools they need to cope with anything the world throws at them, especially a useless egg donor that they were cursed with. We will be their shoulders to cry on when you fuck up, and their cheerleaders when they find strength to persevere despite you. We will show them unconditional love with a balance of discipline. We will listen to them – the first time I said I care about their thoughts and feelings, they asked me why, we’ve come a long way since – and nurture their dreams.
We will be the family unit you couldn’t ever fathom if you tried, because unlike you, we don’t use money to replace love.