I’m a huge slacker.
A lot changes in a very short amount of time. But for some reason I never feel that I have anything significant to write.
You are now two years, two months, and twenty-two days old. Weird, and completely unintentional. You’re a genius, but we’ve known this since the day you were born. You go to sleep in your own bed now, in your own room, like a big boy. Most early mornings you come crawling back into my bed, which is okay with me. I’m proud of you for sleeping by yourself for most of the night. You brush your teeth before bed, grab your blankie, binky, and cup, and walk into your room. You’re never very happy about it, as you’re usually whining or crying. But you do it, and that is what’s important.
You still see Daddy the same amount of time, between six and eight days a month. And Daddy pays child support finally, after signing an agreement giving me sole physical custody of you. Now we’re just waiting for the date of our hearing to finalize our divorce.
I’m hoping I’ll be able to get a court order stating that I can take you out of state, so we can move to Austin in about a year. Daddy won’t agree to it, so I’m desperately hoping it will still work out. Otherwise we’re stuck here. I hate it here. And Craig isn’t here. And there are so many better opportunities for us in Austin. I wish Daddy would stop being selfish and think about what’s best for you. I would never keep you from him, you’d still see him just as much.
We’re still living with Bammy and Ampa. It definitely isn’t my favorite place to be, but I do appreciate the opportunity to live comfortably while also saving money for our future. I have a job interview tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll be working a “real” job soon, as well as continuing school in the Fall. I’m trying really hard to not let my anxieties control my life. And I’ll do anything to give you the life you deserve.
I love you so much, Chickaletta.