Feeling pretty down lately.
The baby has been doing very well, but it’s incredibly hard for me to not have him with me. I get to see him once a day, at night after the kids go to sleep. And that is only while I can be in Vegas and for as long as I can stay awake.
Life is complicated and I’m a huge Santa Sack full of emotions. People who follow me or ever read up on the crap I write know what a rollercoaster I am. We just moved into a larger house, which is awesome, but the last couple weeks have been stressful on us. Things are more complicated than I can really write in a short blog post. Everything costs money. Everything seems to revolve around money. Living three hours away from the Children’s Hospital that currently houses my preemie is incredibly stressful. It costs a lot of money to come down and see him. A very generous man whom my husband works with handed us his fuel card to use for a while to get back and forth from Tonopah to Vegas. He was kind enough to write his pin number on a paper stuck to the card so I could use it freely.
While the kids and I are here it’s even more stressful on us. We stay with my dear friend who doesn’t have kids yet, so I’ve got to be on the kids’ butts all the time to stay out of her nice, breakable things. We’re away from my husband quite a bit which is hard on us all. We’re completely out of our element here, so it’s hard for me to relax, but it’s what I gotta do if I want to see my little miracle man. Sacrifices. Ones that are slowly sending me into a depression that I can’t seem to overcome.
So last night, I went to see the baby at the hospital. I waited till after the other 2 monkeys went to sleep to make babysitting as stress-less as possible for my friend. I get to the hospital, park, pull my ID out of my purse as I do every night, and go into the hospital. A few stories from Hans Christian Anderson’s Complete Book of Fairytales, a few wonderful little moments with my boy, and I leave an hour later. Get in the truck, restart my MP3 player, crank up the rock music that is going to keep me awake on the drive across town through midnight traffic, and I’m back at Jana’s again. I get out, walk around the truck as I do every night to grab my things from the passenger side and realize my purse is not amongst these things tonight.
Oh. My. God.
Some lousy, motherf@#$ing low-life broke into my truck while I was visiting my son at the hospital and stole my purse! As if people who are parked at the hospital aren’t under enough stress for whatever reasons, scumbag, trashy pieces of $hit spend their time scoping out the lot to see who they can rob each night. They take whatever they can grab, part of other people’s lives, and walk away laughing like it's just a game.
These bastards went to 2 711s and 3 redboxes within the hour, using both my debit cards. I’m sure they are planning to keep these DVDs which will rack up daily charges on both my accounts.
Cards have been reported as stolen and so far the damage isn’t too deep. They have my social security card as well as all three of my kids’. They have photos of my children, insurance cards, business cards with all of my information, the fuel card from my husband's friend, and who knows what else I had in there!
I am livid.
Identity theft is a fixable crime for the victim, but how often do they actually CATCH the crime spree bastard? I’m sure this isn’t something that the cops really give a f@#k about to actually look into and follow-up with, what with all the druggies and murderers they have to catch. I know I will never see my purse again, nor the contents in it. That makes me a little sad. But what really makes me feel so utterly violated is the fact that these jobless, moral-less, sleezy motherf#*kers broke into MY truck and took something very personal of MINE!
We work hard to have the things we have. What gives them the right to lurk in the shadows, sneaking around and take it from us? And how many other people have these scumbags violated?