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Welcome to the new day. I am so excited to be here. Today is the first day after taking our leap. I am the new me and I am never looking back.

Yesterday I attempted to call my father’s house. This wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that his girlfriend quite literally hates me. The venom she spews when she gets going about me was enough to scare even my husband. Sadly he, like my father, let her tear me down rather than telling her to shut her mouth if she cannot say something nice about someone they love. She is a child in a grown woman’s body. I am unable to call her house to speak about my children she expects to watch. Yesterday, she actually went so far as to pick up the phone while I was leaving a voicemail to cut me off in the middle. This is the type of behavior I will no longer stand for. 

I do not think my father’s girlfriend is a good person. I do not think she is concerned about anyone other than herself. I believe the people in her life are no more than conveniences to make her struggles easier. Hell hath no fury like that woman when you inconvenience her too much and for too long. I have firsthand experience with her wrath.

I struggle to allow my father in my children’s life because he so desperately clings to what I view to be a horrible person. By including him I am having to include her. It is sickening to me. I have to cut out a perfectly good grandparent who wants to be around the girls because his girlfriend, the only grandmother will know, so blatantly ignores common decency.

I used to feel bad about cutting my father out for his girlfriend’s actions. No longer. That was the old Kristan. The new Kristan understands we all make our choices and that all choices have consequences. My dad chooses to let a horrible person run his life for him. I choose not to let her around my children. If he goes because she goes, that is completely up for him to decide. And like all personal choices, I have no way to influence that decision even if I wanted to.

Regardless of what my father chooses to do, I am happy. I thought our bond was broken. I thought my father was a non-entity in my life. I thought a lot of things that turned out to be wrong. He was there for me when I quite literally lost my mind. He was the only person to visit me in the hospital which was more of a welcomed surprise than I ever expected. My dad loves me. I see that now. He always has and always will. He just needs a woman to control his life for him. Sadly the woman he has chosen won’t allow me in his life. That’s okay, because that’s not my choice.

My choice is about who I will allow to care for and help mold my children. If you know one thing about me, it should be that I put my children’s well-being before anything else.  If a person cannot be grownup enough to answer a telephone and speak in a civil manner with the mother of the children they are being entrusted with, they certainly are not responsible enough to handle the task of watching three impressionable young children.

And so I kept the kids tonight, despite the fact I could have used the evening to be free of children.  I will no longer let people treat me cruelly and without regard for the fact I am another human being. If you can’t be decent to me, I have absolutely no faith you can be decent to my children. And so that woman will never see my children until she can learn what it means to be a decent human being. 

I just wish Patrick would have been honest with my father about why the girls did not spend the night. As it stands, he just thinks the girls didn’t come over because we were busy. These are the types of lies I hate. It’s lying without lying. We are busy. Absolutely. However, being busy had absolutely no bearing on our decision not to bring the children over. It was Lisa’s continued childish behavior. That is the only reason our little virtues didn’t take a trip to their grandparents house.

And so for the first time, I have stood up for what I believe strongly in. Good people raise good children. Anything less is unacceptable for me. I am loving the new day.

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