Wow, it has been almost a month since my baby shower, and I haven't posted any pictures or blogged about it. My sincere apologies for those of you that were holding your breath waiting for me to post about the event. On the positive side, you can't die by refusing to breathe...you pass out and start breathing again. Interesting fact, no?
So, the group picture that I've posted on the bottom of this post is all of the Smith women at the shower. I'll keep their names annonymous (sorry if I spelled that wrong Pam!), but I must say that they are some of the most amazing women that I've ever been privileged enough to know. These women have been my friends, confidants, and supports for over four years. That may not seem like an extremely long time, but for me, it is everything. My friend V., one of the hosts of the party and looking lovely in this picture, was my only visitor when Peace Corps hospitalized me in D.C. It was easily one of the most challenging times in my life and she just came. She didn't question or judge. She brought me interesting books and a journal to record my thoughts. I just e-mailed M., the other hostess of the party and beautiful New Yorker extraordinaire, and said that clearly I should run all of my relationship choices by her from now on because she has always given me brutally honest advice about love and sex. Even when I still believed that the FOB could be a man that I could respect and love, she knew that while the fantasy was important to my heart, it would never be a reality.
Ahh...and that leads us to the FOB. I invited him to his son's baby shower, but he didn't attend. Actually, he got the dates confused and then didn't attend. Either way, he missed out on having twelve intelligent women and one pissed off Mother-of the-Grandbaby jump on him. One week after the baby shower, he was fired from his restaurant job for insubordination and I don't think that I've ever been angrier at him. How could he yell at his boss about something as stupid as serving five people instead of ten people at a table (it was a ten-person reservation) when he has a son on the way? Doesn't he realize that he has a family? The most surprising thing about him losing his job is how little it has affected me. He never gave me money before and he doesn't now. Thankfully, because I no longer live with him, I don't have to pay his share of the rent or buy his groceries because he's jobless. I'm free. It reminds me of the Destiny's Child's song: "I'm a survivor. I never give up. I'm a survivor. Keep on surviving."
All of you in the blog-o-sphere will also be proud to hear that when the FOB asked me for $20 for cigarettes and soda, I thought about it. I'm not going to lie. It's a small amount and I thought about giving it to him. I even wrote out the check and wrote a mean letter accompanying the money, stamped the envelope and then let the letter sit in my car for five days. I never sent it. I couldn't. And, you know what? It feels good.