Tag Archives: Emma Roey Buchheim

Bread and Circuses

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, works as a teaching assistant for Southern Methodist University in Dallas, and   Emma works leasing swanky apartments in Frisco.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Bread and Circuses

(So I started writing my thoughts just after the Ford Blasey/Kavanaugh hearing, and I re-wrote and edited after the whole thing was over.  Of course, any time I hear about possible false allegations, I think of Emma, and the mistakes we made with her, so here’s what I wrote.)

Good grief! The past couple of weeks have been a circus if you’ve been watching the news. Our politicians should be ashamed of themselves for allowing this spectacle of a show. Do I know what or if anything happened between now supreme court judge Brett Kavanaugh and Dr. Christine Blasey Ford? No, I have no idea. I wasn’t there. Do I think accusers of sexual assault should be heard? Of course I do. What disgusts me is how our politicians used this story, and I think used Dr. Blasey Ford to further their agenda rather than handling the accusation appropriately. And of course, this story makes me rethink Emma’s accusing the priest of molestation, and about the mistakes we made in handling her accusation. I also have to wonder, since Emma was such a staunch conservative (or as her dad liked to say, “Emma is to the right of right.” if Emma came up with the priest who turned politician because of his being a democrat and running for office. Maybe Emma wanted to stop his political career. Did Emma even know he was running for office? It’s possible since she spent so much time on the computer, she might have looked him up. Or was he just a safe target since he was no longer at our church and Emma was pulling a name out of her sorting hat. Maybe one day Emma will tell us why she chose to falsely accuse the man, but right now, I have some thoughts on the whole Blasey Ford/Kavanaugh thing oh, and on Emma too.

The morning of the Christine Blasey Ford/Brett Kavanaugh hearing, I stopped to have coffee with my neighbors, and I remember, when they brought up the hearing, distinctly telling them that I was NOT going to watch the hearing, and would just wait to hear about it afterwards. LIE. Ok, not really a lie. I wasn’t going to watch it. It was something that I had no control over, and it just seemed pointless to devote my attention to it, so I planned on not watching it, but when it came down to it, it was my day off from work, and I was tired and I didn’t feel like doing much, and it happened to be on one of the three tv channels that I am able to pick up with my antenna, so I put it on the tube. I really didn’t intend on watching it, but I picked up a project I was working on and spent most of the day working on my project and listening, with the exception of a 45 minute bike ride in the middle of the day.

My first thought concerning the hearing was that no matter what happens, there are two sides and one side is never going to be happy with the outcome of whatever may happen. Ain’t that the truth!

Afterwards, I was glad I watched because it made me think, and it made me reflect on a lot of things that went on with Emma that Phill and I missed with her molestation story.

I’m not going to sit here and analyze the hearing. There are plenty of political pundits who can do a much better job than I can on that issue, but I think I have a unique perspective on the hearing seeing that I was a) a victim a sexual assault, b) the mother of a child who falsely accused a man of sexual assualt, and, c) I, myself, was falsely accused of abuse by my daughter.

Having been a victim myself, and having known many women who were also victims, when I hear someone make an accusation of sexual abuse, my first thought is that I want to hear what the victim has to say, and I want to believe them. After all, who would make that kind of thing up besides my daughter. Turns out lots of women do.

In the case of Christine Blasey Ford, first off, there was her little girl voice, her frightened demeanor and disheveled appearance. I found that to be odd. As to the voice, I have known probably 2 people of the course of my life who had that high pitched child-like voice, and I figured if she was faking her voice, that would come out sooner or later because enough people would know if she really talked like that or not, so I was willing to believe it was her real voice, but being a professional woman, I was having a hard time with the scared little girl act. If the woman is a PhD that would mean she would have had to “defend” a dissertation, and from what I’ve heard, “defend” is a good description of the process, and not something that you enter into meekly. I would think Dr. Blasey Ford, having been a professional for many years, would have been able to speak to a group of senators a bit more professionally than she did.

I was also disturbed by the whole “airplane” story, and it seems like Dr. Blasey Ford told a whopper of a lie when she said she was afraid of confined spaces. She has no trouble flying for vacations to exotic locations, so I’m not buying that one at all.

Later on, I found out that Leland Keyser, who Dr. BF stated could validate her story, not only couldn’t validate her story, but also had no idea what was coming until she woke up one morning to find her name all over the news. If you were going to be testifying and bringing up the name of a witness, wouldn’t you at least have the courtesy to tell that person that you were including them in your testimony? Especially if it was a “lifelong friend?” Hmmm. Odd.

I listened to the questioning, and I had only more questions, and I sat there wondering, “Why didn’t they ask this, this, and this….” and I was shocked and disappointed in the hearing. I thought the treatment should have been more professional than it was. I say senators telling Ms. Blasey Ford how amazing her education creditials were and how credible she sounded, but I was thinking to myself, “Why didn’t you ask her da,da,da…………..!” I had a lot of questions.

When Brett Kavanaugh was in the hot seat, I saw him asked over and over again about blacking out and not remembering what he might have done, but when Christine Blasey Ford was answering questions and couldn’t answer the simplest questions about the night of the assault, they didn’t pound her about if she could have blacked out. Too many of the questioning senators did not seem interested in getting to the facts, and I had to wonder if they were just trying to get in a sound bite for their next campaign.

Did I find Dr. Blasey Ford belivable? Yes, she certainly could have been a victim of something. I know several people who are all, “I believe Christine Blasey Ford” no matter what, and think the accusation should have been enough to keep judge Kavanaugh off the supreme court. So now, we just convict people without proof? For me, with all the inconsistencies and changing her story, I just can’t buy it. Is Dr. Blasey Ford an attention seeker? Is she mentally ill? Is she misremembering perhaps some other incident where she was molested? Is she a die hard leftist who just wanted to disrupt the process? I have no idea. I just think something is not right and that unless there is some kind of proof that Judge Kavanaugh did any of the horrible things he was accused of, he was entitled to be voted on. Something I also wondered about was when people were coming out of the woodwork to vouch for Judge Kavanaugh, people who’d known him in college, in high school, through work, etc., I didn’t see the same with Dr. Blasey Ford. I saw lots of protesters and hollywood types who’d never met either Dr. Blasey Ford or Judge Kavanaugh, claim they believed Dr. Blasey Ford, but I didn’t see her coworkers, old classmates, or even family coming forward to vouch for her. Now, I work full time, have a home to take care of, and volunteer in my spare time, so I don’t live and breathe the news, and I guess it’s possible I missed it.

I have heard people talk about how Brett Kavanaugh acted during his interview, how he cried and got angry and defensive and showed all this emotion unbecoming to a supreme court judge, but on that, I do have something to say. I understand completely, Judge Kavanaugh! I understand, completely.

metoo

I keep jokingly saying to myself, “Emma Blasey Ford.”  I was pretty open minded before the hearing, but I have to say I’ve heard too many discrepancies, and I honestly do not believe Dr. Blasey Ford at all.  My mind could be changed with more evidence, but an accusation is not enough to destroy a man’s career.  

With several years under my belt, I am calm and I will be happy to answer any question you may have about Emma and her accusation of abuse. Fire away. Ask me anything. When my life went to hell in Emma’s hand basket, I had gone from a quiet/boring routine family life to Emmaland Crazy. (Phill had, since Emma was about age of 9 or 10 called Emma our little Drama Queen—-oh how prophetic he turned out to be!) Phill and I had always joked about how we liked our quiet boring life. Anytime we heard about someone going though some kind of crazy drama, we always talked about how we like our quiet boring life.

I feel like I can understand how Judge Kavanaugh must have felt, because it sounds like he was a family guy who worked and did all the routine family things, and all of a sudden his life, like mine, was turned upside down and he was accused of sexual assault, and then it gotten even crazier with Julie Swetnik accusing him of organizing gang rapes… Not only was he attacked, but his wife and children were attacked. I felt the same way. I was attacked, and my family was destroyed. At the time, I was upset, hurt, scared, emotional, angry, defensive…. If someone had interviewed me after Emma’s crazy accusations, it would probably not have been pretty. Now, I don’t mind talking about it, and I can even joke about it. The other day at work, I was on a rolling computer which was plugged in, and my coworker thought I didn’t notice it was plugged in, and said, “Wait………..you’re attached!” and I laughed and said, “No, I’m not silly, I’m divorced.” It may have taken me several years to get to this point, but I can joke about it now. (I grew up in a family that didn’t believe in divorce, and I always thought Phill and I had a strong marriage.) Going though it was hell, but being on the other side now, I can even laugh about some of the craziness.

So, as far as Judge Kavanaugh’s opening statement, and some people think it was too emotional, too angry, or whatever. I completely understand how Judge Kavanaugh must have felt. If he is innocent, he went from mudane and routine to a madhouse over a couple of weeks, and I don’t think most of use would handle it well. You attack the man and his family, and he’s going to be upset. I also heard something I found interesting, and that was the difference between Brett Kavanaugh and Judge Kavanaugh. Brett Kavanaugh was protecting and defending his family. Judge Kavanaugh will be the contitutionalist who, although it’s been a million years since 12th grade Government class and college Political Science, will be making decisions for our country based on the constitution.

So, listening to some of the questioning, and how the senators were NOT questioning Dr. Blasey Ford, got me to thinking about how that was a mistake that Phill and I made. My poor baby Emma was so traumatized by accusing a priest of molestation and by having to talk to the police and the church, and DFACS, etc. that I did not push her to talk about it, and I should have. I wanted to get Emma into therapy where she could talk to someone who could better deal with her issues. I didn’t feel qualified. I should have been questioning Emma and pushing for dates. Even if Emma couldn’t remember dates, she should have been able to tell give me some idea of the times she was assaulted (if you have not read all of the blog, Emma claimed the priest stuck his fingers into her vagina on several different occasions). It could have been something as simple as the day we took the youth group bowling, or the day after the camp-out at church, or the Sunday after Jordan’s birthday party………… you get the idea. Since, at the time, I believed Emma, I should have gotten details to better prove her case, but I didn’t because I didn’t want to stress her out by making her talk about the whole ordeal. Dumb sap that I am, I just wanted to protect my baby and didn’t want to make things any more stressful for her.

Something else I’ve been thinking about since the whole Blasey Ford/Kavanaugh thing is the “what ifs.” What is a psychopath got another psychopath to go along with her, say, to accuse a priest of molestation. It’s probably a good think Emma’s only friends were on line. Or a psychopath who hated her algebra teacher got another nut job to go along with her, and they rehearsed and got their stories together to send an innocent man to jail. What if a couple of young women had a vendetta against a boy they knew in highschool and they remembered being at the same event with him and decided to make up a story to ruin his life. Or, a couple of psychopaths who went to school with a boy many years ago who was running for office and they were rooting for his opponent. It is a scary world.

Do I know what or if anything happened between Dr. Christine Blasey Ford and Judge Brett Kavanaugh. No. Like everyone else, I’ve formed my own opinions after watching the hearing and I have not heard enough to make me think Dr. Blasey Ford’s accusations could be true, and in this county, we don’t punish someone one for a crime when there is no evidence.

One think I miss is talking current events with Emma. As a teen, Emma had all the answers, but she is almost 25 now, and with a little more education and life experience under her belt, I would love to hear her thoughts on this now finished business. As both a conservative, and a (ahem… cough, cough.) “vicitm,” I’m sure Emma had a lot to say.

Oh, and just a note to Emma: I’m sorry to you and Tyler that I missed your anniversary. I was on vacation during Florence, and came home to no internet for a week, but know I was thinking of you both that Sept. 19th. Three years!  So, with Tyler working on his Master’s, are you back in school, too?  Miss you, Emma, the girl who would be me!

The Police Dog Meme

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, works as a teaching assistant for Southern Methodist University in Dallas, and   Emma works leasing swanky apartments in Frisco.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Just a couple of light thoughts today.

Police Dog

Ok, so I kept seeing this meme pop up, and I liked it but did not save it, so when I tried to go back and find it, I couldn’t. Darn! So……….. I just made my own. For someone who’s not too computer savy (and sadly had a husband who kept telling me I didn’t need to know how to do things because he would always be there to help me), I’m pretty pleased with myself for mastering the meme generator! I like this one better than the one I saw earlier.

Anyway, if you know the history of Emma, one of her better lies, er stories, was the one about being searched by a drug dog in high school. Emma claimed that a boy, JB, who lived in our neighborhood and rode the school bus with Emma, had a grudge against Emma’s “friend” C. (later Emma called her an “acquaintance” rather than a friend), so he turned the group of them in, claiming they had drugs on the bus……………… Emma went on to say that she got called out of class to be searched by a drug dog, and told the officer how she volunteered with a rescue………… It was a GREAT story, and Emma put so much detail into it, that it’s a shame it wasn’t true. (But her dad doesn’t think she has a lying problem.) To tell such a great story, I’m wondering did Emma rehearse it, or to good liars just work on the fly?

The other thing I wanted to share with Emma was a gift for Tyler, the Good Architect. I saw these and thought they were so cute for the Leggo enthusiast! (or appropriate for a Bob the Builder like Tyler!) So, Emma, there’s a Christmas idea for you, or you can get Tyler one and tell him it’s from me!

Leggo Mug

Love,

Maze

Parental Unit Days

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works showing and leasing swanky apartments in Frisco.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Parental Unit Days

Goodness, I had wanted to share my thoughts for Mother’s day, but have been so busy, I didn’t get to it, and now it’s almost Father’s Day!

I can now share from the perspective of surviving my 8th Mother’s Day without my daughter. This was the first time in 8 years that I could actually say, “Happy Mother’s Day” and mean it. I didn’t want to hide from or ignore the day. Of course, I still miss my Emma, and I’m still hoping she’ll grow up, but she is what she is, and I didn’t fall into the pits of despair just because it was Mother’s Day. I wasn’t expecting a card, a call or an e-mail, so Emma didn’t disappoint me, but actually, I had a pretty nice day. I did have to work, but then came home and went to a cook out with some friends, and had some good food and good company on a beautiful, albeit warm, day, and I even got a couple of Mother’s Day cards from my very thoughtful sister and brother-in-law (and my dog) who were thinking of me.

When you’re a mother, everyday is Mother’s Day, but it is nice to have one day to be acknowledged for all you do for your child/children. The cooking, cleaning, diapers, runny noses, vomit, tears, boo boos, sickness, homework, school projects, chauffeuring and then sitting around, bored, while your child gets to do whatever fun activity they are involved in like swimming, kayaking, softball, karate, soccer, art class, choir, youth group, brownies, piano lessons, drama, therapy….. For mom, so much of that stuff is pure boredom and a lot of waiting around, but then when you get to see some of those moments, like when your child catches the fly ball, or breaks a board in karate, or just has a fun, silly time at play group, it is pure joy. To see them grow and learn and accomplish a task or grasp a concept, those are the moments we moms love, just watching our babies thrive in life.

As a child, Emma got to do so many more activities than Phill and I ever got to do as children, but as her mom, I just wanted to open her eyes to new experiences. I wasn’t expecting her to become a great black belt in karate, or a classical pianist, but I wanted Emma to get to try different things, and to be able to appreciate the effort that goes into them. Maybe Emma would never be a black belt, but by taking karate for a while, hopefully if she met someone who was, she would understand how much work went into earning that black belt. If she took a pottery class, maybe she would see a beautiful piece of pottery one day and understand and appreciate what goes into the making, the glazing, the firing of the piece.

Like most kids, I don’t think Emma appreciated how lucky she was that any extracurricular she was interested in, Phill and I would try to work out her being able to do. And, like a lot of kids, Emma never found anything she really loved. She never stuck with anything too long, but that’s ok. I always hoped she would find something she loved and could put some time and energy into, but Emma seemed to get bored with a lot of things, so we’d finish that activity and try something else. Or, if Emma didn’t excel at something right away, she wanted to quit whatever activity it was. (Smart child problems.) She didn’t seem to grasp that you didn’t become the best at something the first time you tried it. For a while, I was a glass bead maker, until Phill threw me out of our home and kept all my supplies. I took a beadmaking class (working on a torch) on a whim because a friend wanted to do it, and I was the absolute worst one in the class. I’m not very coordinated anyway, and I dropped things, and spilled things and really didn’t do great at all, but I loved it and it just made me want to try harder to “get it.” I practiced and took more classes and later began selling my work. I found that through hard work and maybe some natural talent, I was actually pretty good, better than a lot of people who’d been doing torch work longer than I had. I don’t do it anymore, and as I said, Phill has or had all my supplies (I would guess that he probably sold all my stuff.) Just before Emma got Phill to throw me out of our home, Emma had asked me to teach her to work on the torch, so we were planning on, that summer, when she was out of school and had some time, me teaching her my craft. In any event, I hope Emma enjoyed all the things she got to do.

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Emma with Johnathan and Derek McCravy, helping with the church camp at Sunrise Baptist Church, Lawrenceville, Ga.

I have a friend, who when I joke about being the world’s worst mom, or being a child abuser, this friend jumps in and says, “You were an awesome mom!” and then she reminds me of how I was saying all the time, “Oh Emma would enjoy that, I should take her to do that….” and how I was always thinking of Emma and if an opportunity came up, I would drop everything for Emma to have the opportunity to do something. Thank goodness for friends!

Before Mother’s day, I kept seeing articles about when Mother’s day is a disappointment. One article was about women wanting to be mothers, struggling with infertility. Another article was about “when you didn’t get the mother you deserved” and I figure that one had to be written by a millennial, maybe even Emma! I started thinking of all the people I know who’ve had some pretty horrible mother’s days. I know people who have lost a child to death, divorce, drugs, and mental illness. I know other parents who are estranged from their children for one reason or another, and some of them don’t even know why they are estranged. I think my own situation is so horrible, but all I have to do is look around, and I can find someone worse off than me.

Those of us that have survived something so horrible as mothers can tell you the one thing we have that no one can take is our memories. My dear, sweet husband wouldn’t let me have any of my things other than clothes and books, and a couple of odds and ends, and what hurt the most was that Phill wouldn’t let me have any of Emma’s baby photos (99% of which were taken by me). I’ve wondered what Phill did will all the little things around the house that were gifts to me from my sisters or from friends. The cross stitch switch plate cover that a friend made me, the little tree on the mantle and the fake asparagus plant in the kitchen that my sister gave me, the glass vase hanging on the wall in our bedroom that a friend gave me one birthday, the dream catcher that hung from the ceiling fan in our bedroom along with some other dangles that Emma had made for me, and the fan pulls in the living room that I traded some glass work that I did for. I had asked Phill for the full bed in the spare room, figuring he and his girlfriend would need our queen bed, and he never gave it to me. Many of you know I was living in a furnished house, so when I bought my home, I brought my mattress and box springs, and I am proud to say after living her a year, with a mattress on the floor, I finally bought a bed. Lol. There are so many things I need, a bed just wasn’t at the top of the list.

Anyway, sometimes I’ll think of things and wonder what Phill did with my ________ (fill in the blank), but having survived Emma, I can honestly say things aren’t that important to me. I don’t even think much about all the wonderful baby photos anymore. I learned a lot more about my husband than I ever wanted to know and found out he wasn’t quite the good man he took pride in believing he was. Emma liked to joke that Phill was weak and pathetic, controlled by us girls (and then controlled just by Emma) and a dumb truck driver…. Phill couldn’t stand up for me or to me, and I had to be the disciplinarian and be the bad guy, but I still always thought we were a team, and I confused my husbands work ethic with his morals. I knew he was a hard worker, and thought he would work just as hard at his family, but I was wrong. Early on, in the middle of all the drama, I was seeing a therapist and said something about being 50 and having to start my life over, and she reminded me that I would be 70 and starting my life over, so there is that. At 50+ I’ve done a lot of things I probably should have learned to do before I got married, so I wouldn’t have been so dependent on my husband, and I’m still learning. It does make me wish Emma had grown up before she got married, because she will probably end up in the same boat, but I’m her mom and there’s not much I can do about that.

I was fortunate enough to be a stay-at-home mom, and when I did work, it was just a little part time job. In a lot of ways, that will hurt me financially in the long run, but I have something that no one can take away, and that’s all the memories of raising Emma. From Emma’s poopy face when she’d turn all red and you’d ask, “Emma are you pooping?” (in her diaper) and she would deny, deny, deny, which we thought was hilarious, to all the conversations about life in general, and how up until a couple of months before Phill had me thrown out of our home, Emma would come in my bedroom every night before she went to bed and want to snuggle and have “girl talk” with me before she went to bed, no matter how bad it got, I was blessed to be a mom. The hours and hours of magical reading time, to playing in the inflatable pool, or blowing bubbles out on the driveway, there are so many moments that are such treasures. Yes, the later years were horrible, and Emma turned into a pretty crummy human being, but she was a wonderful baby, toddler, and child for a while, and I got to be her mom and see it all. Kids are a crap shoot, but even with all the horrible things Emma’s done, if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t know what being a mom was like.

I love you, Emma.

 

P.S.  Is Tyler done with the Flat Iron School yet?

The Car, the Card, and the Kitten Part 3

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works leasing apartments.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Part 3, The Kitten

So, in the middle of this pretty crazy week of spring break, working overtime and short staffed, dealing with trying to get my car repaired and getting the runaround by the LD (local dealer), I’m out walking my dog early one chilly morning, and what do we stumble upon, but a kitten. This poor little calico was crying and crying, walking towards me and then running away, wanting me to save her, but scared at the same time, and I couldn’t just leave her. She was wet and shivering, so finally she got close enough that I scooped her up and tucked her inside my coat.

Weighing just over a pound, I brought the kitty home and sat down with her, and she immediately fell asleep in my arms. Could she be any more pitiful? My neighbor and I tried to figure out was she dumped? Or could she have been part of a little that was living in the woods and maybe a coyote or loose dogs got the rest of them?

Kitten2018

Now I’m trying to deal with the stupid car dealer about getting my car repaired, and I have this orphan kitten! I tried to get an appointment to take her to my vet on my one day off out of 9, but they have no appointments that day. I talk to a fellow rescue volunteer who agreed to meet me to give me some wormer for the kitten, and since she was healthy, it shouldn’t hurt to wait until the following week to take her to the vet. My neighbor gave me some dry cat food, and I go out to Dollar General for some canned cat food, a litter pan, and some litter. Of course, I forgot about a scoop, so later that day I go back out for a litter scoop.

Let me just mention that I am not really a cat person. I like cats ok, but I like other people’s cats. I don’t mind cats. I do kind of like them, but at this point in my life, I don’t really want one right now. I used to joke with Phill that we were a mixed marriage because he was a cat person and I was a dog person. I also said that cats were pets for lazy people because a dog is a lot more work, which is true. I do like them both, but I am more of a dog person. To be honest, a cat would actually be a better fit in my working lifestyle, but I would rather have a dog and pay a dog sitter to come while I’m at work, than to have a cat, so I’ve found what works for me. I wouldn’t mind a cat, and now, after this experience, I think my dog would LOVE for me to adopt a kitten, but I would have to get my yard cat proofed so the cat would be able to go outside some and not escape. Having had a couple of cats in past, unless you have a really big house (which I don’t), I don’t think they are happy just being inside cats, but then I don’t want a cat who can be wandering off who knows where, either, so maybe one day I will get my fence cat proofed, and then I will make my dog happy by getting him his very own kitten.

So back to my story………..at this point, I don’t really have a plan, but figure I will get the kitten vetted out and try to find her a home. I have no idea how my dog will react to this kitten if I am not there to supervise, so that night when I go to bed, I put food, water, litter pan, blankets, and kitty in the bathroom on the opposite side of the house from my bedroom. I hear her meow and complain, but since I have to go to work the next day, I just put the pillow over my head. After a few minutes, I think, “Gosh, that kitten is getting louder and louder.” and I take the pillow off of my head. Surprise! Kitten was so small that she was able to crawl under the door of the bathroom and she was standing in my bedroom!

At this point, I just want to go to bed. I have a 12 hour day the following day, so I say, “Ok, kitty, you can get in the bed.” and kitty settled down and went to sleep until about 3am when she announced that she was hungry. Being so tiny, I figured she couldn’t make it though the night without eating, so I get up and fix her some canned food.

The next morning, when I go to work, I stuff a mat under the bathroom door so kitty won’t be able to escape, and then me, my dog, and the kitty get in to a routine, but I still really don’t want to keep the kitty. I think my dog, however, would have loved to keep the kitty, and I think kitty loved my dog. In fact, they were adorable together, but,as I mentioned the busy road behind my house, and my fence is not cat proofed, this is just not the time.

After a few days, I hear from my vet about a client who lost her 14 year old cat and the family’s dog was grieving and missing the cat, and the whole family wants another cat, so the vet gives her my number, and she texts and we chat and I send her photos of the cat and I invite her over the following day to meet the kitten. (I had heard from a couple of people who were interested, but were looking for an outside cat, and I would have kept the kitten before I let that happen!)

As it turned out, this family was PERFECT. The had three sweet kids, ages 12 (twins) and 16, and wanted an inside cat, and they came over to meet the kitty, and of course fell in love. (How could you not?) Later on, I heard the dog was in love with her too, so I could not have asked for anything more! They’ve sent me pictures and a video, and the little kitty is doing great. As cute as she was, I will miss her, and dealing with her in addition to all the other things I had going on was an inconvenience, but it all worked out for the best! Have a great life little kitty!

And for those of you who haven’t seen the cute video of the dog who wants a kitten, here it is:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kI4yoXyb1_M

That is my dog now!

 

The Car, the Card, and the Kitten

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area as an insurance underwriter.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Part One, The Card (So, I went out of order.  Sue me.)

(There’s some alliteration for you, Emma. Remember learning that when we homeschooled?”)

Ok, so this post isn’t really about Emma, it’s just about life. Since a lot of you are estranged parents, divorced, struggling, and so on, you will get this. It’s just the daily things. The adventures in singledom. I once had a husband who took care of a lot of things and didn’t want me to handle the banking, the bills, the investments, the retirement, etc., and to be honest, I didn’t like dealing with car stuff or workmen on my own. I preferred Phill to be home if someone were coming to the house.

EmmaPhill

Emma and Phill at SEFF.  Southeast Electric Flight Festival

The cars were always in Phill’s name, and he always took care of the registration during his birthday month (March 21, 1958—my husband just turned 60!), except for a couple of times when he didn’t. One time, I was driving Emma to private school—-about 24 miles one way—the price we pay for trying to do what’s best for our children (sigh), and I got pulled over and got a ticket because Phill had forgotten to renew the registration. I was embarrassed and thought it had to be a mistake, but it wasn’t. Phill just forgot. Later, I asked him how much the ticket was, and he said, “You don’t want to know.” and I never did ask again. I looked it up these days, and it’s about $125-135. I don’t know why Phill said I didn’t want to know. I had assumed it was a lot more than that. Emma, I think, was in kindergarten. She was still in a childseat, and I remember the officer handing me the ticket and telling me that he appreciated that I had my child buckled in safely. I guess it’s always good to give someone a compliment when you’re about to ruin their day.

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Later on, Emma had made her big announcement of being sexually molested by the priest on Phill’s birthday, March 21, 2010, Phill was so distracted by everything that was going on, dealing with the church, the police, and poor Emma who was traumatized by her “repressed memories,” Phill forgot again and I got stopped again. I was driving down Hwy 124, near Mill Creek High School, when the police pulled over everyone. There were a bunch of police cars there. Spike, my lab/mix was in the back seat, hanging his head out the window, and I think the only reason I didn’t get a ticket was because Spike was a big, friendly goof and the police officer seemed to like him. For whatever reason, he let me go without a ticket that time.

Fast forward to April of 2018. I am having some car trouble, and my car is stuck in 2nd Gear (which will be Part 2 of the story, The Car.) so I can’t drive it on the highway, and I’m driving back roads to work and being jerked around by the car dealer on when my car parts will be in. This was actually sort of a blessing in disguise because it is spring, flowers and trees are blooming, and I live in a rural area with a lot of horse farms. It was such a pretty drive, that I didn’t miss going down the highway, even though it took a little longer,  With the car problems, even on back roads, I was usually going about 30mph, and I know people were pulling up behind me wondering what the heck was wrong with this old lady who’s driving so slow. I wanted to dye my hair blue. I thought about putting a sign on the car that said, “Stuck in 2nd Gear” or “Go Around” and then I thought both “2nd Gear” and “Go Around” would make good names for a rock band.

On this little country road, I take for most of the 13 mile trip to my job, there is 3-way stop. One morning, I was going in to work late, about 1030am, when I noticed the police conducting a traffic stop at the 3-way stop. I thought this a little odd at this time of day because there wasn’t much traffic on this little road. It just didn’t seem like a busy enough road to have a traffic stop on, but what do I know?

As I pull up and stop on this beautiful spring morning, I roll down the window, and a young officer comes up and tells me they are just checking licenses and insurance. “Oh, ok. Sure.” I pull out my license and hand it to him. The officer takes my license and walks behind my car like he’s looking at the plate, with my license. I really wondered what he was doing, but wasn’t going to ask. He comes back and hands me my license and asks for my insurance card. Figuring that that was what he was going to ask, I had already opened my glove box and pulled out a stack of papers.

As I said, Phill always took care of the car stuff, so since Phil had me thrown out of our Buck Trail, Hoschton home in April of 2011, I had always just stuck whatever car stuff there was in the glove box. Every-time I got a new insurance card, I put it in the glove box, and the same with my registration, the owners’s manual, or anything else that had to do with the car.

I pull out a wad of paper and grab one on top and hand it to the officer. “Here’s my insurance card.”

“Ma’am, this card is from 2015.” (I love southern officers. They are so polite.)

“Oops. Ok, wait a minute.”

I flip through the paper and see on that has the correct year on it and hand it to him. “Here it is.”

“Ma’am, this is your registration.”

He hands it back to me, and I look at it. Yep, he’s right. I start flipping through all these papers. “I know it’s here. I remember putting it in the car. Apparently I don’t throw anything away.”

The officer says, “That might be a good thing.”

(Pause……………………………………………………)

“Ma’am, I’m just going to take your word for it.”

I was dressed professionally and wearing my name badge, so it’s not like I looked like some bum, but I really wanted to find that card.

“No, wait a minute. I know it’s here. Here’s 2016. Here’s 2017. Wait. I’m getting closer.”

“Ma’am it’s ok. You can go.”

“But I know it’s here.”

“Really ma’am, you can go. Just make sure you have it in the car when you get home tonight.”

I always thought the police could check your insurance with either your license plate or your driver’s license, but I don’t know and thought it was probably best not to ask, so I drove on it to work, and when I got there, I flipped though all those papers and found it! Sure enough, I did have it!  I almost wanted to turn around and drive back to show it to him.

To be continued……………..Part Two will be, The Car—- and dealing with car dealers, or being a woman in a man’s world, or……… In the end, there was a great service manager who knew I’d been treated poorly and he took over and made things right, but boy was it two weeks worth of aggravation!

Stepping Back

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area as an insurance underwriter.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Stepping Back

So, I was thinking about how, as parents, we have to let go, and let our children fly on their own. Ok, well, Emma’s leaving the nest wasn’t quite how I pictured. I assumed she would grow up and fly the coop, not boot out her mother and take over the nest, but hey, I always knew she was a strong-willed child…. (Emma should have been featured in Dr. Dobson’s The Strong Willed Child! And, yes, I read it.) and I was thinking about writing a Blog post entitled “Letting Go” but then I smiled and what came to mind was more having to do with stepping back, and in Emma’s case, it’s more about stepping back before Emma pushes you in front of the oncoming train.

In the past few weeks, I’ve heard from several people who’ve discovered the blog, and wanted to comment or ask me questions. I want to thank you all for your love and support. I also hope, for those of you going through your own difficulties, that you find comfort in knowing you are not alone.

I also ran into a friend, more of acquaintance, and heard some very disturbing news about her daughter, a young teen, who is probably mentally ill, under care, but not yet diagnosed. From the signs and symptoms my friend was telling me, it sounded pretty scary, with many symptoms that reminded me of Emma, but some were worse, and I feel like my friend is just at the beginning of her nightmare with this child. Having been down that road with my own daughter, I feel like could easily predict the future for this family, and it breaks my heart knowing what is to come for them.

A few years ago, I was at work, when a friend’s daughter came into the office. This young lady, who I think was right about to graduate from high school at the time, worked at a coffee shop, and stopped by with her mom’s favorite hot chocolate. We chatted, and this big high school girl sat in in mom’s lap for a few minutes, with her arms around her mom’s neck. I couldn’t help being a little jealous and wishing I had that daughter that would stop by for a hug or lunch or whatever, but it was not to be, and I’m really ok with that now. With all my flaws, I always tried to do what was best for Emma, but kids are a crap shoot. You just don’t know how they will turn out. (But whatever happens, it’s your fault! 😉 Emma went to college and has a good job, so apparently we did some things right, but I’m really not sure what type of person she is. Is my sweet girl somewhere deep inside there? Is Emma going to spend her whole life hiding from her mom, pretending to be this poor abused child, because her mom was the one who came closest to the truth about Emma?

There have been times when my coworkers were texting their kids, that I wish I had that daughter I could text and ask how her day was, what she was up to, etc., but I’m sure Emma would try to get a restraining order, so I’m not going to do that, and I’m really ok with it now. Or, I guess I am ok as I will ever be considering everything I lost. I accept my life as it is now. Recently, a friend was in the hospital and now she has several months of recovery to look forward to. As a friend, I’m hoping to be of help in the next few months while she’s going through this, going over on my days off to help out, drive her to appointments, etc., but it’s things like that that remind you how much worse things could be. No matter how bad things are, you can always look around and find someone who has it worse.

I guess about 9 out of 10 people I hear from are supportive, but every once in a while I get one of those emails, “if you want a relationship with your daughter, you shouldn’t write about her publicly…” and that gets me thinking, well, for one thing, I have given Emma the opportunity to discuss this between Emma, her dad, and myself, but also I wonder, would I want a relationship with Emma?  Right now, I consider myself lucky that Emma’s favorite show wasn’t “Dateline” or I might not be here to write! (Someone pointed that out to me a while back, and I thought it was quite humorous.)

EmmaSteppingBack

Emma Roey Buchheim

If Emma weren’t my daughter, would I want a relationship with her? Ummmmmm, I can’t imagine I would. Well, superficially, Emma is lovely and charming and can be absolutely delightful, but as her mother, I knew her best, and even I didn’t believe how bad her dark side was. I thought she was the typical obnoxious, know-it-all teenager, but I kept telling myself she would outgrow that behavior and if we could just keep her on a good path, if she would get her education, she would be fine.  She just had some growing up to do.

I remember years ago, before Emma was born, reading an article about an actress who was talking about teenagers. If I remember right, I think it was Jill Eikenberry, from LA Law, which Phill and I didn’t miss for a while there. (Yes, it was that long ago!) She said, humorously, something about how when your kids are teens, aliens come and take them away and replace them with these monsters…..

Knowing what I know about her now, would I want Emma in my life? I don’t think I can answer that. I love my daughter, but my daughter falsely accused a priest of sexually abusing her. Emma had no problem ruining this man’s reputation, and we all know that if a man is accused of child sexual abuse, it doesn’t matter what he’s done or does for the rest of his life, the one thing people remember is that he was accused. It’s horrifying to me that Emma would have no remorse for nearly ruining someone’s life—first the priest, and then her mom, and then once I started looking into things, I discovered Emma’s whole life was pretty much a lie. She lied about almost everyone. (A few thoughts on that coming in another post.)

Would I want someone like that in my life? If she weren’t my daughter, the answer would be a definite “NO!” but she’s still my child. I will always love that precious baby that I carried, and that little girl who was such a mommy’s girl for 17 years, the little girl I had to coax into being nice to her dad so many times, but I think I’m a lot safer loving her from a distance.

stay in your heart

Emma and the Roy Moore Effect

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area as an insurance underwriter.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Capture

My daughter, Emma Katherine Buchheim, conservative Christian, who falsely accused a priest of sexually molesting her.

Emma and the Roy Moore Effect

I have to admit, up until the latest accusation, I didn’t even know who Judge Roy Moore was. I am busy working, keeping up with my bills, paying taxes, and volunteering in what little free time I do have. I try to keep up with the news some, but that means mostly listening to the radio in the car, and a few minutes on the computer here and there reading the news. I have a television with an outside antenna, and on a good day, I get 7 channels, but if it’s raining or windy, I usually get three. Only two of them are the “big” networks (CBS and ABC) and the rest are junk. I am not that well informed. I’m hoping later to get a better antenna and get a few more stations, or at least get the stations I do get a little more reliably.

Lately, there’s been a lot of news about people, mostly women, accusing men of sexual abuse. Usually these men are in positions of power or positions of authority. There’s Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Louie, CK… Some of these men have admitted to what they did, and some haven’t.

And then there’s Facebook, and all the “#Me too” posts. I had to wonder if Emma rushed to post her “Me too” to show how brave she is, or to feel included, or whatever her point would be. I don’t even know what name Emma uses on Facebook now or if she is even on there anymore. She changed her name a few times from Emma Roey, I think to Emma Kate Roey, to Sophie Buchheim (or was that Pinterest?) to Katie Smith… I’ve really lost track of all the names Emma has gone by, but like I always told Emma, if you have to hide, it probably means you are doing something you ought not be doing.

All this got me thinking about Emma and her accusation against the priest she accused of sexual molestation. What was going on in that 16 year old brain of hers? I’m hoping one day Emma will enlighten us, but I also accept that I may never know exactly what is going on with Emma. I can only speculate and make my guesses with what I knew as Emma’s mom for 17 years.

I know there was something going on with Emma a couple of months before the big accusation. She went for a few months of accusing her dad of calling her names like “bitch” and “slut” everyday, and complained about the way he touched her. She didn’t out and out say that Phill molested her, but complained about him putting his hand on her thigh, etc. She told me that she had told her friends Kayla Benifield Weaver and “Lacey” about how her dad called her bad names on a daily basis. She said she did not like her dad and told him she didn’t love him. Poor Phill, this broke his heart.

When it came to me, I stopped Emma in her tracks. I told her to knock it off because she knew what she was saying was not true. There may have been a time or two Phill said Emma was “acting like a bitch,” but he never called her those names directly. I always shut her down and refused to listen to her talking badly about her dad. Emma liked to play the “Daddy is an idiot” game, and I didn’t mind a little joking around, acting like Phill just didn’t get us girls at times, but when Emma got mean about her dad, making fun of him for not finishing college and for being a dumb truck driver, etc., I would shut her down and tell her not to talk that way. I would remind her of our nice home and all the nice things she had and all the activities she got to partake in because of her dad being a dumb truck driver. I refused to listen to Emma when she got ugly about her dad. A little joking around was fine, but she could be downright mean, and I would cut her off when she crossed that line.

Emma loved to play the “girls against the dumb boy” game, and act like she was mommy’s girl, and dumb ol’ Daddy needed to keep out. This didn’t worry me. I thought it was kind of normal, albeit childish behavior, and then there was one day, at age 17, when Emma was sick with a virus and while sitting on the toilet with diarrhea, she vomited all over herself at the same time. The poor girl was sick at both ends didn’t make it to the bathroom in time and called out for help! I was busy in another part of the house, and didn’t hear her call out, but Phill, the dutiful dad went in to help clean up the diarrhea and the vomit of his nearly 17 year old daughter. I came downstairs and Phill told me that poor Emma was sick and had bodily fluids coming out of both ends. Her clothes were soiled and she was nasty between all the bodily fluids, but, good dad that he was, he’d gone in there to help get her cleaned up. That’s what a good dad does, this poor man that Emma accused of calling her “bitch” and “slut” and saying horrible things about her, this poor man who Emma loved to say she didn’t love, got down and dirty taking care of his daughter because she wouldn’t do it herself. Emma was so grossed out by the vomit and diarrhea, that she didn’t want to touch anything!

So………………..my theory is that Emma was thinking about accusing her dad of abuse. I’m not sure what was going through her head, but she was trying to create a divide between her dad and her mom. Unfortunately for me, I refused to listen to Emma talk bad about her dad, so she had to create a new plan.

I was wondering how Emma chose the priest to accuse of molestation. She had already accused a fellow student, Johnny Boddie, of trying to kiss her. Emma had told me this crazy story about Johnny and how he (in 11th grade) was engaged….. The story was so strange, and didn’t make sense, and when I questioned Emma, she just changed the story, so I let it go, just assuming Emma didn’t get her facts straight. Whenever I questioned Emma about some of her stories, she just kept talking, I guess trying to talk her way out of it or to distract me by going on to another topic.

How did Emma decide to choose the priest of molestation? This man had been the interim priest at our church for about a year when Emma was about 12 years old. I remember, when Emma did a reading, during the service, and after she sat down, the priest complimented her on a job well done in front of the whole church, and then began his sermon. (Emma had a great voice and projects well.)

At the time that Emma made up the story about being molested, the priest that she accused was running for public office. And, he was running as, HORRORS, a democrat! Is that why Emma choose the priest? I have no idea what was going through her little brain, but I have to wonder. Emma needed attention, so she made up being sexually molested. Then, she needed to come up with a bad guy to play opposite of her role of being a victim, At first, she was turning on her daddy, but her mom wouldn’t allow that, so she needed a new victim, so who did she turn to (or on) but a former priest at our church who was now entering the world of politics.

When Emma spoke to my sister, after I’d told my sister about Emma’s claim of sexual abuse, the first thing she said to my sister was that the priest was (shudder) a Democrat. Now, we all know that Emma is a staunch conservative, or maybe even Alt-right. Phill liked to say, “Emma’s even far right of right.” I have to wonder, if you’d been sexually molested, would your first thought be about the violator’s political persuasion? Is that what is important to you? Phill labeled himself a Libertarian and liked to say he was fiscally conservative and socially liberal. I couldn’t agree totally with any party, but considered myself fairly conservative. We tried to teach Emma to think for herself and not blindly follow any party, but Emma wanted to be a conservative Republican. She loved making fun of liberals including one of my sisters and her husband, and she could be kind of mean, but I chalked this up to that teenage know-it-all attitude. Emma was right and all liberals were stupid.

Once, when a friend called and I wasn’t home, Emma had a nice chat with her “Aunt M.” (Emma called close friends of the family “aunt.”) This friend happens to be a democrat, but was still pretty close to Emma and was always good to her on her birthday and Christmas. Well, when Emma relayed the conversation to me, she told me the craziest story about how Aunt M told her that the Nazis were going to come back and she needed to keep some hair dye on hand so she could adapt to that Aryan look. It might save her life! Wait? What? This was another story that was so crazy, I questioned Emma, but she swore it was true. It just didn’t make any sense, and it did not sound like my friend, so I dropped it, and as far as I know, Emma didn’t go blonde.

In reading about the Judge Roy Moore accusation, I had to wonder about the timing. I know, that a lot of women have kept their own stories about abuse to themselves until they saw others coming forward, and then they got the courage to come forward themselves. From what I read, the (or one of the) woman who accused Judge Moore, had worked for Hillary Clinton’s campaign. Why did she wait until right before the election to accuse Judge Moore? Why, right now? Why not earlier? And why did Emma accuse the priest when she did? Did she discover that he was running for office, so that was why she chose to accuse him? I don’t know a think about the accusations against Judge Moore because I haven’t heard much of the news in the past few days. I do believe in the order of law, and it may take time, but if the stories are true, it will come out. I sort of think there’s a double standard with the media. The same media who mocked Gennifer Flowers and Paula Jones who accused Bill Clinton of sexual abuse, now whole heartily believes the accusers. That being said, I also remember when John Kerry was running for president and there was supposedly an “intern story” that would come out that never did. Also, when our home-state favorite, Herman Cain, ran for president, there were a couple of women who accused him of sexual misconduct, but those stories never went any further either.

Up until I lived through Emma’s false accusations, I was probably quick to believe the accuser in sexual abuse stories too. After all, who would make it up? Now, I need to hear a lot more facts before I pick a side. I withhold my judgment until I hear the facts, not that my judgment matters to anyone. And let me tell you, it was painful to side with the accusers of one of my childhood heroes, Bill Cosby. I was one of those kids in the sixties, lying on the floor around the stereo, listening to our Dad’s Bill Cosby albums. Early in our marriage, Phill and I never missed an episode of The Cosby Show until the last couple of years, when we kind of lost interest. Who didn’t love “everybody’s dad?”

After Emma’s accusation, she got what she wanted, temporarily. The priest that Emma accused dropped out of the race, but after the police investigated, and couldn’t find any reason to charge him, the priest got back into the election. From what I understand, he didn’t have much of a chance anyway, as he was a democrat running in a highly conservative district, so although what Emma did was an absolutely horrible thing to do to another human being, it probably did not have much of an effect on the outcome of the election.

When I told my good friend, Sandra Brooks McCravy about Emma’s claim of sexual abuse, she wanted me to go to one of the priest/politician’s political speeches and to stand up and ask him about sexually abusing my daughter. I wasn’t brave enough to do something like that, but now I wish I had. I’ll be if I told Emma I was going to do that, she would have found a reason to stop me.

Emma was always interested in politics, and even toyed with the idea of going into politics one day. After her brief stay at Charter Peachford Behavioral Health, Emma came home and said that she guessed she couldn’t go into politics now that she’d had a stay at the mental hospital in her record. (I don’t know Emma, quite a few politicians have been to rehab, and with the number of politicians who lie, that might have been the career for you!) Was blaming the priest for her made-up “molestation” Emma’s first foray into politics? Was the whole reason she accused the priest because of his politics? I hope one day Emma will explain to us the thinking behind her actions.

Unfortunately, I think there will always be women who will be sexually harassed by some man somewhere. Almost every woman I know has faced this type of harassment at least once in her life. With all the mental illness out there, there will always be men who see nothing wrong with their actions, or men who abuse their authority. I’m just sorry that there will always be women out there who will lie about such as serious issue and hurt the cause for the real victims, and I’m sorry that my daughter is one of them.

The Apology That Never Came, Part 3

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

The Apology that Never Came Part 3

I Thought My Husband Was a Better Man

All throughout the divorce process, I thought my husband would have to come to his senses. I was so wrong. I made a lot of mistakes during the divorce because I believed in my husband and just knew sooner or later he would do the right thing. I didn’t know what was going on in his head, and yes, I think part of it was a midlife crisis. All of a sudden, Phill was free and he had Emma at home to take care of things there, so he could spend as much of his free time as he wanted traveling the country going to RC airplane events and hanging out with his RC buddies, drinking beer, flying planes etc. Sooner or later, Phill would have to face the truth. Emma was a big fat liar. While Phill was off playing with toy airplanes and driving around the country, I was researching into a lot of Emma’s stories and finding out more and more lies. It seemed almost everything Emma had ever told us was a lie.

Once Emma called me from a church youth group meeting, making fun of Phill. She claimed she was so embarrassed by her dad trying to act all cool, saying dumb things and doing the fist bump thing with her friend and sometimes crush Rob Simmons. When Phill got home, I asked him what in the world he was doing and he said he only said hi to Rob and shook his hand. That is just an example of how easily Emma lied. She didn’t even have to plot and scheme to make up a story (although she did that at times, too). The lies just came out so easily.

Emma often lied about doing her chores and all the things I thought were regular kid stuff, but something that stuck in my head was how you could catch Emma red handed and she would still lie. Like a lot of good moms, I tried to limit Emma’s sweets, and we had to lock up any candy, chocolate chips, and even marshmallows or they would disappear. One day, when making a cup of tea, Emma turned up the Sugar container (the glass kind with the metal top, like you find in a diner) and dumped a heaping helping of sugar into her mouth, and I said, “Emma! Don’t eat sugar straight out of the container.” and Emma looked right at me and denied it. I was right there in the kitchen and saw her and she kept denying it. I never understood that part of Emma either.

I knew my husband was a good man, and he was going to have to come to his senses sooner or later. Emma had lied about so, so much. How could he still believe she was molested by the priest? When I emailed him other examples of Emma’s lying, Phill refused to discuss Emma with me. I kept researching and thinking that maybe the next example or the next would help Phill realize what a mistake he made in the way he treated his wife. Well, I’m still waiting for Phill to come to his senses.

During the divorce, I believed sooner or later Phill would face the truth, apologize, and we would get back together, that’s how stupid and naive I was. I always believed my husband was a good man who would take care of his family. I thought Phill believed in our marriage, and would realize it was worth saving. Wrong again.

Maybe coming from a divorced family had something to do with Phill’s handling of Emma’s problems. Phill came from a family who just walked away when things got tough. I’d heard his mother often say that life was too short to be unhappy, and Phill’d been brought up seeing his mother with two failed marriages and multiple boyfriends. I always thought I’d gotten the prize in that family, Phill, who didn’t want to be like the rest of his family and was committed to his marriage. We were a loving couple, and happy, and I thought we set a good example for Emma of what a good marriage was, and I hoped when she married, she would realize that having two loving parents, who loved each other was indeed a blessing. I never thought I’d be competing with my own daughter for my husband, but that’s what happened. Emma became Phill’s second wife until she married Tyler.

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Emma studying her monologue when when she was taking Drama under Bonnie Roberts and Jackson County Comprehensive High School.  All those drama classes paid off!  Emma, did you ever return that book to Ms. Roberts?

Interestingly enough, on the side of the statistics, I have two sisters who have both been married about 35 and 42 years (if my math is right). Both couples have faced some of life’s difficulties, and yet they have stayed married. Also, both my brother-in-laws came from intact homes. Phill fit right into the profile of a child of divorce. Sadly, I saw my sisters and their husbands face challenges and I always thought I was so lucky I was married to Phill because we would be able to get through whatever difficulties came our way. I believed in my husband that much. Yep, wrong again.

One of the mistakes I made during the divorce was to let Phill have the house. Of course, at the time, I thought Phill would wake up and we would get back together, so I wasn’t going to destroy our home. I should have forced Phill to sell the house, or to live in it until the market appreciated and then sell it.

By throwing me out of our home, Phill the advantage and kept EVERYTHING. I think of some of the gifts he got me for my birthday, Christmas, etc., and hope he and Kim Chassion are enjoying my things. The only things Phill put in the storage locker for met to have were personal items such as books, clothes, and old records, and not even all of my records. You would think that Kimberly Chassion, having her own home, in I think it was Auburn, Ga, would not want her new man’s ex-wife’s things. That just seems odd. Or maybe Phill is just mean enough that he wanted to get rid of my things to make room for Kimberly, but didn’t want me to have them. It doesn’t really matter. I recently bought a home and am slowly acquiring things. When you lose your husband and your daughter in such a nightmare like I did, things are not that important. (but Phill darling, I could use some tools, so could I borrow a drill, our chainsaw, the hedge trimmers………….Oh probably not.)

That is pretty much it in a nutshell. I always thought my husband was a better man. I knew that sooner or later, he would face the facts and right the wrongs that he had done. Of course, knowing Phill, I also know how hard it is for him to admit his mistakes, but I always believed in my husband and believed he’d stand up and do what was right. I was wrong. After nearly 27 years of marriage, I guess I didn’t know my husband well at all.

It’s kind of funny. I can’t tell you how many times people have asked me about my divorce and if my husband left me for a younger woman. A friend of mine once piped up, “Yes, his own daughter!” I’ve heard plenty of jokes about Phill and Phill thinking with his “little Phill” and I’ve even jokingly called Phill “Flatworld Phill.” I loved my husband and always believed he’d do the right thing, and always believed that he loved me and would honor his marriage vows. I thought Phill would do whatever he had to to take care of his family. I guess there are worse things in life than to think that someone is a better person that they actually are. I am not the first wife to be betrayed by her husband, and I won’t be the last.

I feel kind of sad when I think of Emma and Tyler because their whole marriage is based on Emma’s lies. I’ve joked about Tyler Buchheim, my “future ex-son-in-law,” but it makes me sad to feel like Emma and Tyler’s marriage is doomed. With the divorce rate as high as it is for healthy relationsips, I can’t help but feel that Emma’s marriage is a sinking ship. Maybe she’s straighten herself out before her marriage fails, but I doubt it. Emma is in too deep to save face now. I’ve wondered if Emma will get pregnant when her marriage starts to fail in an effort to hold on to Tyler. Whatever happens, it will be an interesting ride for poor Tyler.

The Apology that Never Came, Part 2

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

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Phill, Emma, and our dog, Spike when Emma and I went to watch Phill fly his toy RC airplanes one afternoon.

 

The Apology That Never Came

Part 2

I saw a headline recently to an article, that was something like, “Men Don’t Get Over It, They Just Move On” I’m sure that’s not quite right, but that was the gist of the title, and I thought, “Yep, that’s my husband.”

I think I confused Phill’s work ethic with his character. Phill has one of the strongest work ethics I know. Maybe it’s because his parents divorced when he was just a toddler, and he watched his mother struggle to take care of him and his brother, frequently counting on her mother to babysit while she worked. Maybe it was because when he was older, Phill’s dad bought a diner, and his mother went to work there, and later both Phill and his brother, Andy worked there after school as well.

When Phill worked for UPS, he started out loading the trucks, then driving the big brown trucks, and later driving the tractor trailer trucks. When he told me he had to “pre-trip” the truck everyday, which is checking everything out on the truck before you go anywhere, I always knew Phill would not cut any corners and would do what he was supposed to do each and every day. That was just Phill. He could be very thorough if he needed to be.

When Phill and I met, we were both students working part time in a huge liquor store. I was sent into the big beer cooler to stock on my first day, and Phill, a scruffy looking Grizzly Adams kind of guy, was back there and showed me what to do. Phill was often treated like a manager (although not paid like one) because he’d been there a while and proved to be very responsible. Phill used to joke that it was, “Love in the Beer Cooler” when someone asked how we met, and I often joked that we met, “in a liquor store” letting people think I let Phill pick me up buying booze, just to see their reactions.

Once, when Phill decided to wallpaper our bedroom and bathroom, he researched it, learned how to do everything, and made sure he did it right. I didn’t know how much there was to wallpapering until he showed me. That was Phill. Phill was the same about painting, and did all the time-consuming prep work, and did the job right. Because he was also a procrasintor, sometimes he didn’t finish, but that’s another story.

When I took our little dog to agility classes (just for fun, I wasn’t really interested in competing) Phill looked up all the specifications and made me some jumps, a dog walk, and an A-frame and even painted them to meet the specifications as if I were competing in competitions. That was just Phill.

When I graduated from college, Phill and I talked about I could work to support us if he wanted to go back to school. (He had gone to Georgia Tech, majoring in Electrical Engineering, and flunked out, not because of his grades, but becaues he quit going to class.) Phill would work like a dog if he was getting paid, but when we talked about him going back to school he said he knew he wouldn’t do the “busy work” the he saw me struggle through. He could do it if it interested him and it pertained to what he wanted to do, but he didn’t like wasting time on classes or assignments he thought were unnecessary, and he knew he just wouldn’t do it, so there was no point in going back to school.

I had a hard time understanding this. I’d seen my husband work so hard at some minimum wage paying job if he were getting paid, but he couldn’t think ahead enough to understand if he got through some of the BS that school entails, it would be worth it in the long run. So, that was why Phill stayed a UPS driver.

I can’t remember exactly, but when Phill went to work driving the tractor trailers, he had to train on the weekends, so he drove the brown package cars 5 days a week and then spent two weekends training with the tractor trailers, so that was, I think, about 19 days in a row with no days off, and we aren’t talking 8 hour days, either. But, it was for the job, and he was getting paid, so even though he was worn out after it was over, it was what he wanted, and so he did it. A few years ago, between my two jobs, I worked 17 days in a row and could barely get off the couch on that 18th day, and my jobs aren’t/weren’t near is physical as Phill’s job working for UPS was.

When UPS went on strike in the 90’s, Phill went to do some construction work for one of his coworkers, Kevin O’Gorman. Kevin always had side jobs going on and was known for buying a home, living in it and fixing it up, and then selling it and moving to the next fixer-upper. UPS being on strike was a little frightening, but I knew with Phill’s work ethic, he would do whatever he had to to take care of his family.

Another thing I admired about Phill was that he could do, build, or fix almost anything. Even before computers, he would do the research to accomplish whatever task he was contemplating. I never understood how he was so handy with tools when he grew up with a divorced mom who was rarely home except to sleep, so where did he learn how to be so handy?

These are just some of the examples of Phill’s work ethic. Emma loved to say her dad “just sits on his butt in a truck all day” and I really hope now that she’s been in the working world a little bit, maybe she appreciates her dad’s hard work a little more than that snotty teenager she was being at the time (but honestly, I doubt it.)

I guess because I thought Phill had such a good work ethic, he would be as hard working in the rest of his life. Phill was always easy going, but I never saw that as a flaw, until I realized he could be pretty passive and I joked with him that he was sometimes passive aggressive.  If he really didn’t want to do something, he might not do the best job.  It was ok.  When it comes to flaws, I have plenty of my own, and probably a few more than my easy-going husband.

It wasn’t until our marriage was ending that I realized how passive Phill was. I always thought we were a team. We discussed decisions, usually at my insistence, and Phill would do things like research a mortgage and decide who we were going to go with, but any difficult family decisions were left to me. Phill didn’t want children, I was the one who wanted a baby. (Although he was thrilled when the time came.) I had to be the disciplinarian, decide Emma’s medical issues, choose Emma’s schools, camps, extracurricular activities, decide on homeschooling, public school, etc. If Emma wanted to attend an activity, or go on an expensive trip, it was up to me to say yay or nay. I could talk to Phill about anything, but he always left the decisions up to me. When Emma claimed to be molested, I was the one that thought she needed to talk to someone other than me, so I was the one who had to interview therapists. I always did my best in making these choices, but Phill left it all to me.

My husband, who was such a hard worker, let a 17 year old take over and run his life. His marriage vows meant nothing. There was a new sheriff in town, and her name was Emma.

After I found out that Emma had lied about “Lacey” being raped, and “Lacey” never attempted suicide, never called Emma from the ER up in Dalton, Ga., so there was no catalyst for Emma’s repressed memories of being seually molested when she was 12, I began investigating other stories. You can read back through the blog about many of the lies. Emma claimed to be babysitting and had to call 911 on a bipolar child, Emma has the toxicology report to prove her mother poisoned her with DDT, Emma’s one-act play competitions was ruined by another school tampering with their sound equipment………. Big lies and little lies. Emma’s whole life was full of them. Emma would say something about someone, and I would talk to the person and bring up what Emma had told me and find out Emma had just made up story after story. Many of her lies were harmless, and some were hilarious. Some lies Emma took from something she read, like the Reader’s Digest, and others came from something she saw on the internet. Being a loving mom, I just excused Emma’s stories thinking she misunderstood something someone said, thinking she just got the story wrong, or maybe I was confused and got the story wrong, but then when I would check with Emma, she would re-confirm what she had said, and, well, no……………..I wasn’t crazy.  She could sure make me feel like I was though.

We had a friend, Emma’s “Aunt Janice” who swore like a sailor at times, but then cracked us up when she said things like she was letting her dogs out to go “pee-pee-doodle,” so one day Emma told me about Aunt Janice swearing “Jimminy Crap-Shit” at pet adoptions.  I thought that was pretty funny, and when later I said something to Janice about it, she said, “I never said that.” It sure sounded good though, didn’t it?  Emma has a great sense of humor with her stories.

Emma claimed that at her youth group one day, her crush, Evan and his mom were there, and Evan’s mom was talking about how she made the boys (a high schooler and a middle schooler) use sippy cups in the living room so they didn’t spill on the carpet.  Emma claimed Evan got so angry at his mom that he stormed out of the church and Emma looked out the window a few minutes later and then said, “Ummm, Miss Megan, your van is driving away.” and then Evan’s mom went running out of the church to catch up to Evan.  Great story, right?

Until I started digging, I had no idea how much of a problem Emma had with lying. I know kids lie, but when is lying a problem? Looking back, in Emma’s case, she lied more than she told the truth. I had absolutely no idea that there was something wrong with Emma, and it wasn’t that she was sexually molested. There was something much more going on. I wonder now, has Tyler Buchheim started to catch on? I know he’s busy with school and all, but living with Emma, you would think he would start to notice that something is not quite right with his wife. Does Emma gaslight Tyler the way she did me? Hiding things and then acting like I was the crazy one who but the math book in the bathroom cabinet or the cordless phone in the refridgerator?  Is it possible Emma will outgrow her lying habit or is is just something that is part of her personality forever and ever, amen? It will be interesting to see just where Emma is in a few years and what else is going on with her.

I remember when Bill Clinton was president and was sometimes referred to as the “liar-in-cheif.” On second thought, maybe Emma should get into politics. She might have quite a career there.

I’ve gotten a little off track in writing about Phill and the apology that never came. I have a little more to say on that and will continue in the next post.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to contact me with any questions or comments.

Love to you all.

The Apology that Never Came

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My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in Frisco, Texas.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

The Apology that Never Came and Other Broken Promises

How do you go from being a man who tells his wife, “I love you.” a dozen times a day to “OmiGod, you are a child abuser! I’ve been married to you for almost 27 years, but I just figured it out and I want a divorce!”

And when I say Phill told me he loved me a dozen times a day, I mean literally. Well, ok, except when he was on the road and then he might only tell me two or three or four times in a phone call. Phill frequently reminded me how happy he was being married to me, how proud he was of our marriage, how we still laughed and had fun, and how great it would be when he was retired and we had more time to spend together. I looked forward to us having more time together as a couple someday when Emma would be grown and living her own life. After a night out with her husband, my neighbor Cora, who was also a busy mom of two boys, joked one day and said something like, “Now I know why I married Randall! We used to have fun!”

Besides being Emma’s mom, I also homeschooled for 5 years, and since Emma didn’t seem to make or keep or maybe just didn’t want friends, it seemed like I was her best friend. Add to that Emma’s “illness” of frequent vomiting, and my life was all Emma all the time. It was exhausting, tedious, repetitive, sometimes boring, but also fun, happy, and loving. I just knew once we got Emma to college, she would come into her own and be ready to take on the world. I thought Phill and I could do a good job and raise a decent human being. Maybe she would be that pediatrician she spoke of being for several years, or maybe she’d go into politics, or to nursing school, or be the next Ann Coulter (Emma was a huge fan and was so interested conservative in politics. Since she liked to write, I once suggested maybe she would be a political commentator one day.) Emma claimed to be the girl “with Google in my brain” and I knew we’d given her a good beginning education, and I thought we’d set a good example and instilled good values in our girl.

As I’ve written earlier, when Phill had me thrown out of our Hoschton, Ga. home, I was a total wreck both physically and emotionally. After almost 27 years of marriage, I was ripped away from the two people I loved most.

My sister wanted me to come up to Connecticut to stay with her for the summer, and although I wasn’t sure I wanted to go for that long, I did, and we left about the first week in June and came back, I think the first week of August.

During this time, I was frequently in touch with my attorney who kept me abreast with what was going on. Phill had filed for divorce, refused to seek counseling, etc.

My attorney was doing some investigating into Emma’s story after I had told him that I didn’t believe Emma was sexually molested by the priest. He wanted to talk to “Lacey’s” parents to see if the stories Emma had told about “Lacey” were true. Had she been raped? Had she attempted suicide? Could “Lacey’s” events and her relaying them to Emma be the catalyst for Emma’s repressed memories of her own molestation by the priest? Was any of this true?

I proved to be a better investigator that the attorney’s own investigator and went on line to find out information about “Lacey’s” parents such as names, addresses, phone numbers, work phone numbers, etc. I turned all this information over to my attorney, and he was still reluctant to have someone call “Lacey’s” parents. It would be awkward to have a conversation with Lacey’s parents if poor “Lacey” had been the victim of rape and had attempted suicide like Emma claimed.

Well, as we all know. It was all lies. Emma had made it all up. Lacey wasn’t raped! Lacey had never attempted suicide. Lacey’s mother, who actually did battle breast cancer, had sailed through her treatment with flying colors and never even spent a night in the hospital, much less was she lying in a hospital, knocking on death’s door like Emma claimed.

So surely, Phill would have to see that Emma was not molested either! Right? Well, we are talking about Phill here, so no………………….. sadly, not right at all. Sherry Buchheim, Emma’s momster-in-law, once e-mailed me that Emma had told them that I didn’t believe she was molested. Well, Sherry, you got that right! So, why did Phill continue to go along with Emma’s lies?

Liar

I have to admit that when we found out the truth about “Lacey” I sort of expected an apology from my husband, or, since he and Emma went up to his mother’s home in Brick, N.J. while I was in Ct., I was half expecting him to drive a couple of hours to my sister’s home and show up and apologize. How do you apologize for putting your wife through absolute hell? How to you apologize for all the sleepless night and the years of tears? Well, if you are Phillip Thomas Roey, you don’t. You pretend that you are right, and you just keep going. My dear, sweet, loving, wonderful husband could not face the truth. Like a lot of men, Phill was never any good at admitting when he was wrong, so why start now?

To be continued…………………….