I am working now. Seems to be taking up a lot of my time. I am very happy with that. I don't mind working for once, except dealing with the annoying children and rude clients of course. Today I am packing Lucas's things for his hopefully not permanent trip to his dad's house. I was told to leave my mother's last night. I don't have much time to stay, and even though my son is welcome to stay there, I am not letting him with such a negative environment around him. My ceiling is leaking everytime it rains over my bed(really really bad), the downstairs is so gross that my son won't play down there, or won't go to the bathroom. I'm losing it. Having to pack my child's things in bags knowing he won't be sleeping in the other room or climbing in bed with me, or knowing I can't read a story to him before bed is pretty devastating. I can't bring him here to play, to do anything. I'll have a couple of hours with him a couple days a week. I can't do it. I am supposed to move out soon, but a couple of months isn't soon enough. I'm losing things one after another. I'll try and keep my head up but I feel like I lost a part of myself. Shit.