He has put his hands on me

He has put his hands on me
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I should be in worse shape… but my worse shape is my stuff… I have a lot of stuff.  I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I’m pretty social, but I have a lot of stuff.

So… he has put his hands on me.  People ask and I say no… I say no because how do you say yes.

He hasn’t done it like Celeste’s husband, for example.

Tonight… moments ago…

It started as it always starts… very innocent… the kids were finishing their bath and they called him to take them out.

So there was my mistake right there, I should have just let him do it.  But I was feeling guilty.  I had been sort of in my writing hole all day… and sometimes if I don’t appear he grumbles under his breath.  It’s the grumbles that bother me the most… I guess it all bothers me, but the grumbles that I don’t do anything.  It’s designed to get under my skin, I know that… but in the moment… my blood boils…

So the kids wanted him but one was climbing out of the tub with suds still on him so I held his hand and said he needed to rinse.  He screamed… his usually scream.  He does that.

I held onto him until his father came upstairs.  The transition was peaceful and then I came back a few minutes later with pajamas after they were dried off.

Time for lotion

I got it out, but they wanted him to do it.  So my son took the container and handed it to his father.  But he doesn’t like that lotion so he used another that usually makes them itch… it’s not as moisturizing.

I made a comment, which he ignored and pulled the jar out for our daughter who immediately began crying.

I was frustrated.

They never cried when I did the lotion.  In fact, they usually wanted to do it themselves… lining polka dots on their limbs and rubbing it in.

I don’t understand why you’re crying.  Don’t let him control you… don’t be a chameleon.

I had hints of his language in my responses and I hated it.  I hated him for putting that language in my brain, even.

She continued to cry.  I finished and put a little lotion on my son’s back side, he then wiped it off and wiped it on the duvet.

[eyes rolling]

By now everyone is heading down to the kitchen and he’s commenting on how toxic I am…frustrated, I mock the way he says, “toxic” (childish, I know).

“They’re always smiling and happy with me, he says.”

Definitely not true.

Then he says it… that I’m raping the children by forcing them to put on lotion they don’t like.

“You wanna talk about rape, motherfucker?!”

I was pissed… I got close to him, but didn’t lay a finger.  Then he pushed me in the throat and I fell backwards on the kids table.

My son was crying.

I didn’t do anything back.  I insisted in a calm and firm voice that we needed to talk about this.  I also made sure he knew that I could have (and should have) pressed charges.

He didn’t take it seriously.

He doesn’t take this seriously and yet weeks ago, I called Legal Services and am just waiting for my packet… just waiting.

So he has put his hands on me…

I wait for these next steps to happen.  It has to be the last time.