Morning nightmares...part I

This morning I roused Dillon from a peaceful sleep, watching how sweet he looked as he balled his little fists and stretched, telling me that he was chasing doggies in his dream. I wanted so much to jump into his bed and tickle him, but I knew the sound would invite screaming from Derek, even though he's on the other end of the house. As usual, we had to whisper to get dressed, and I cringe whenever little Dillon goes near his dresser drawer to get his own socks and underwear: "Look mommy," he declares proudly, "I'm a big boy!" he says as he gets his things and slams the drawer shut with a slam. "Damnit! Idiots!" comes the first greeting that Dillon hears from his father. Still, he's a little boy with mostly joy in his heart: "Look mommy, I'm a plane!" he says as he zooms around the room, cleverly avoiding my attempts to put a shirt over his head. Again, I want to play, too, but I'm tense, and stick to business as I've "learned" to do in order to keep Dillon out of major trouble.

I get Ella ready much the same, trying to keep her quiet, keep her from laughing and giggling, and pleading with Dillon to stay out of her room. He wants to come in and greet her. He wants to give her a hug. And that's so wonderful! For a moment I relent, and Dillon embraces his little sister. There's a moment of quiet, and then I startle to see Derek standing in the doorway, watching us. He's furious. "Yes!" he booms, "I'm watching!" Then with no explanation to Dillon he jerks him up by the arm and spanks him: "LEAVE HER ALONE!!!!!" he screams, "DON'T TOUCH HER!!!!" and then as Dillon cries in confusion and disbelief, he walks out with tears streaming down his face and Derek gives him a kick in the backside, knocking him down. He lands with a smack on the floor. I run to him, and now I'm screaming, too: "You tyrant! Don't you touch him! Leave him alone! What's the matter with you!!!" Dillon clings to me and Derek continues his rant: "It's YOUR fault, Stacey! It's YOUR fault they're spoiled, selfish little brats!"

I took Dillon back into his room and gave him a hug. I told him that the way daddy acts is not okay, and that we don't act like that. I told him that I would keep him safe. But I didn't. He nods his head and hugs me, as we hear Derek's screams about us continue from the other room: "Idiots!! Every, single one! I've so had it! I'm not taking this shit, no I'm not! I'll take care of you! I'm so sick of your attitude, Stacey! I mean it!"

As he rages on, I try to get Dillon organized with his little backpack and shoes by the door, and get him to the breakfast table. He scurries by Derek quickly, so obviously afraid and Derek just glowers at him: "What -- what are looking at!" This nut is picking a fight with a 3 year old. Dillon tries to pacify him: "Yes, daddy," "Yes what! Yes what!" But Dillon doesn't know what to say and he's in trouble no matter what now. I grab him and go to the breakfast table, trying to smile at him. He used to say, "Mommy keeps me safe." He used to believe it. But he's not dumb, and he's beginning to see that even though I say daddy's behavior is not right, daddy somehow gets away with it, and that's what's not right. Soon he will know I'm not protecting him. He's already less and less comforted when I say it.

So now it's 7:15am and the screaming and insults have already come full force. Dillon gets to begin his morning being spanked for hugging his sister, he gets not one kind word from his father, not even "Hello," and he sees his mother being screamed at. Yesterday morning was worse. Dillon wet his bed, a rare occasion but it still happens now and then, and Derek unleashed his rage on little Dillon, not only jerking him out of the bed and through the air, not only spanking him and screaming at him, but also calling him a faggot and a sissy -- I can't get it out of my mind how horrible this man is. Who calls their son -- at any age but especially at three -- a "sissy" and a "faggot???!!"

Of course he says it's all my fault. That's what all abusers say. I told him that once. But now I don't mention it. I know what he is. And now we, Dillon, Ella and I, have to get through breakfast without breaking any unwritten rules...but of course that's impossible...