F$&% you.

Yes, this post will have language.
And ranting.
Alot of it.














So, today was going pretty well. Woke Chad up at 3. Heard him still in there at 10 to 4, so I went and told him what time it was. He says "I don't have to be there til 430, it's ok." (We're 15 minutes from the range where he's working this week.)

Today goes decent. Dante's teething. Nothing new. Made some gingerbread, etc. Chad gets home, 430 or so. "I was late this morning so I'm going to be at the barracks until Friday."
My first thought "How the fuck were you late?! You had an HOUR, over an hour, to get ready and go. Maybe you'll learn. Maybe this will help you get your shit together so I don't have to do it."

I get his stuff packed.Then he has to cut his hair. Surprise - he left the razor at the barracks when he had it there. Over a week ago. So Kathy has to hand express an ounce of milk, get into the car, realize the car is flashing "EMPTY" because he couldn't fill it up on the way home apparently for some fucking reason, go to the gas station, get gas, go to the Dollar Store, get him a razor, come back to a screaming baby who's exhausted and hungry.
Oh,  and before we leave, what does he just have to pack? Not food. Not drinks. His laptop and headset and mouse. That's what was important right then.

THEN we still have to get into the car and go to the range to drop him off.

I make him call his mother to tell her we won't be coming home for Christmas. I talked to him a few days ago. "You know she'll want to come down here." "We'll just tell her we can't do it."
He calls her. "Blah blah blah. Oh, Kathy and I will have to talk about it. We wouldn't have anywhere for you to stay, but maybe the weekend after Christmas."
I start shaking my head no. He hangs up, directs me onto base. "I wish you had told me you wanted them to come when I brought it up with you." "Well, they aren't coming Christmas. It'll be the weekend after if they come. They have to come sometime."

That's not the fucking point.

The point is you just stabbed me in the back and sold me out.  Again. If your mother, stepdad, and siblings want to come for 2-3 days, fine, but fucking tell me. Don't tell me one thing and do another. Like you always do.
"I'm still pissed that she made such a huge deal of coming down when Dante was born and left early to do 3 days of gambling on the way home. And would leave as soon as she realized Dante was sleeping. Don't get me wrong. I didn't want her here but to leave because gambling was more important?" "I know, I know."
No, apparently you don't. Why I continue to believe your bullshit amazes me just as much as why I believed your mother's for five years.

I drop him off. Ask him how to get out of there since I've never been before and it's dark. I can't see much of anything. "Call me if you need anything." Directions he give me lead me to the range itself. Dead end. Gate. Whole deal. So I try to call him.
No answer.
For thirty minutes I try to call him, driving aimlessly around the base, trying to find my way out. I try the directions he gave me Idk how many times. End up in tears, and finally manage to find my way out.
He never answered.

Oh, and I suspect something may be up w/ my car, but Idk what. It was acting weird and making noises.

Coming home, I had to fight hard not to just bawl and lose it. The one person I should be able to depend on, who I gave up EVERYTHING and EVERYONE for, I can't. I'm really alone out here. Except for Dante. I have him. And it feels like he's all I have. And all that's holding me together in any fashion.