Time flies when you're...well...

I realized that it has been over a year since I first started this blog and my last post. I mean, I knew it had been a while, but I had no idea. I started reflecting a bit over what on earth I had been doing for the past year. And then... oh yes... my Jerry Springer, white trash family popped into my head. You see, shortly after I started this blog in March of 2005, my nephew moved in. He was 22 months old at the time. His mother (my step-sister... STEP... no blood relation, just so we're clear) lost custody of him because 1. she had been pulled over by a police officer and given a DUI a few months before and shared with the police officer that she had left her son with his drunk, passed out, white trash daddy (her baby-daddy) and 2.she decided to get drunk one afternoon and pass out on the couch while her 22 month old walked out the front door and down the very busy road she lives on. Nice! Yes, these were 2 seperate events on 2 seperate days... and not the only beer induced events that had taken place since the birth of her child. So DFCS took him away, finally, and we (my husband, two children, and I) brought him home with us.

My step-sister was put into a 9 month re-hab facility and given her "plan" that she had to complete in order to regain custody of her son. She spent the full 9 months there, but did get weekend passes on occasion where she would get drunk, but sober up before she had to check back in. And her first night out after NINE FREAKIN' MONTHS? drunk! Yes, she got rip-roarin' drunk to celebrate her graduation from re-hab. Hello? Is it just me or is this pure craziness? Her baby-daddy never saw the child the entire time and he hasn't seen him again since. What has this poor little boy been born into? DFCS still hasn't completely severed her rights to him and she completely refused to let him continue to stay with us... Apparently she thinks that I think I'm better than her... Well, frankly that's not hard to accomplish. Sorry, but it's true. So after being with us a year, we had to give him to his grandparents. He calls me mommy. I never asked him to call me that. My husband never asked to be called daddy. Sad.

Alrighty, well pop yourself a Prozac now that I've depressed the heck out of myself and anyone else reading along. Whew! Sorry about that. The good news is that I am SO able to find good in where he is and how he is doing. And I'm able to find a whole lot of sick and twisted humor in her very strange and pathetic life. It is sad, so sad that you just have to laugh, so you don't drive your car off the nearest bridge. HA!

Now I know why I completely forgot about this blog. I was up to my eyeballs in raising not 2, but 3 boys and all the laundry that goes with it. So now you know.