**sigh**of relief

It’s Sunday, usually my sleep until I wake up day.  My piddle about crafting, painting, writing day.  My one day of the week that I’m totally indulgent and do only what I want to do.  But this Sunday I woke up at 5:00 to this face yelling for “Nana”.  I could hear the TV blaring in the living room which meant that “Grap-paw” (Juliette’s version of Pap’s moniker) had left the idiot box on for one of these faces.  All of this combined reminded me that this particular Sunday was not my own…at least this morning.  Its been a hideous and rather enlightening few days.  I’ve learned a few things about domestic violence and a system that doesn’t work.  I’ve seen the frustration of law enforcement trying to live by the law instead of its spirit and the callousness of the judicial system.  I’ve seen first hand that Children’s Services isn’t the monster agency so often portrayed in books and movies, and even by me, but just a bunch of struggling civil servants trying to have intimate knowledge of too many kids and too many parents. 

On Tuesday night my lost daughter was nearly strangled to death by the dirt bag she’s been living with for the last five years. The noise was so frightening a downstairs neighbor called the police.   She fought him and locked herself and my grandgirls in the bathroom.    The officers arrived as he kicked in the door.  The baby was screaming, Jazz, Bri and Juliette were crying.  They explained everything to the officer who took them away from their mother to question them.  The neighbor came up and explained she’d called because she feared for my daughter’s life having witnessed this consciousless perversion of humanity knocking her friend around nearly every day.  The landlord came and explained that there were never any problems unless “he” was around.  The cuffs came out and the officers arrested my daughter. 

Did you just stop reading and go “what”?   I know that’s what I did when the phone call came to tell me she was in jail, I couldn’t bail her out but would I come get her kids.  I still can’t wrap my head around how she was the one they arrested.  She’s 5′ tall, 120 pounds.  He’s 6′, 190.  Who could imagine that she could ever cause any real damage to him?  Apparently the police who responded to the call were looking at my angry, frightened, screaming, swearing daughter and the scumbag who knows how to work the system… he had scratches on him and the world savvy to know to keep quiet.  Her bruises didn’t show up until later.  So they arrested her.  It gets worse (or better depending on your viewpoint), he not only wouldn’t tell the police the truth, he asked, and received, a protection order against her.  If it wasn’t so pathetic it would be funny. 

A long story to explain that stuffed into my apartment are now four more little bodies (the smallest of which never sleeps and found, in under fifteen minutes, everything I should have already baby proofed).   I will probably do more lurking than commenting or writing for the next week or so.  Today’s update was courtesy of an understanding Aunt that has toted the four noisy little love bugs off to a BBQ.  Hence the ***sigh*** of relief.