November 8th, 2010 | 1 Comment »

…ho hum…

I think I’ll go vomit now.

Oct. 24. Verbal exchange – seeing the kids in two weeks then…   […details to be confirmed]  Apparently, one party understood this to mean that I would drive the kids to his doorstep in two weeks????  WTH.  Since when?

Nov. 1-5. Me. Wondering if he’ll call regarding plans for the kids.  How many times I kept myself from contacting him, trying to stand by my resolve to see what he will do, if he will make any effort to coordinate anything.

Nov. 6. Around 9:45 a.m.  Him.  What happened to the kids this weekend?

Me. Hadn’t heard from you.

Him. When you were here last you asked so see you in two weeks and N said yes and you left with your bf.

Me. Even so, still need to coordinate the details when the time comes.  I expect to hear from you by Wed or so, to be sure we are clear on whatever the plans are.  Just because we have a loose understanding that you will have the kids at any given day, we still need a solid and clear communication as to what time, what day, where to meet, etc.  That needs to be clarified each and every time, until we have a routine determined.  So far, you have not been very cooperative in making any kind of a set routine.

Him. So now that it was agreed prior to the date agreed on you’re trying to shift the lack of communication to me, even after it was agreed upon.  So who has the kids on turkey day?

Me. Would you like to have them?

Him. Yes.  My mom is having it at her place then should be able to drop them off after dinner.

Me. Why not keep them for that weekend, so they can have more time with you?

Nov. 8. Me. You didn’t reply as to plans for enjoying the boys for the Thanksgiving weekend.  What would you like to do?  Also, if you’d like to see them this weekend, let’s try to work something out.

Him. We have plans this weekend.  That’s why it was very important that the kids were going to be here as you asked before you left.

Me. If it was that important, you should have confirmed pickup and dropoff time and location.

Him. Unless you are experiencing short or long term memory loss, you know location and drop off and pick up.   I don’t know why you play this game where you forget the money you take from me every month which was allocated for the fuel for picking up the kids for the month and planning special things to do with them.  I don’t know why you have this mind block you like to use mostly when you have a boy toy for two to three months around.  I don’t know how many times I have told you the fuel situation but that’s ok.  In December the judge will have all that information.

Me.  The child support you pay isn’t allocated for fuel to pick them up.  I am not a taxi service.  The parenting plan says you pick them up and drop them off here.  So what memory lapse are you talking about?  I am willing to meet at the p&r for transfer, as that makes things easier on you.  That is ME being accommodating for YOU.  Funny how you don’t seem to get that.

Him.  I get every bit of it. The money you are taking from me which you seem to forget you said, and I quote, you don’t have to worry I’m not going to ask you for child support, end quote.  And you never answered me about my proposal when M’s was all paid for.  Is the money I had set aside to use for the boys.  You keep thinking I have all this extra money hiding or laying around.


Communication can be a bitch, can’t it?  Listen to me.  That sort of language is atypical for Sueeeus Maximus.

Did I ever blog about his proposal, regarding M?  If not, here’s the recap.  And no, I didn’t bother replying to him, because how could I?  In his illogical and incomprehensible mind, he somehow thinks it would be reasonable for me to postpone any requirement for child support until he’s finished paying child support for his first daughter, who is currently 15.  That means, he won’t pay anything for three years, and at that time, he will start contributing towards his two sons.  Does anything accrue during that span of time?  In his mind, no.

When we met, he was buried in debt with collectors after him.  Oh, sigh, we know where this tale is going.  Yes, I bailed him out.  I extended a substantial amount of cash to clear his debts.  Meanwhile, he moved in with me.  When talking about the awkward subject of finances, when he would pay some money now and then, I’d ask him if he wanted me to apply that money to the loan or to the rent.  Almost always he’d say to apply it to the loan.  Meanwhile, the rent compounded, but he seemed oblivious to that, or couldn’t grasp that it was a debt as well.  In his mind, he was paying me back for that loan.  But what of the rent?  Room and board?  Who gets to live for free in this world?

How could he have any shred of dignity, basically free-loading off of me?  In his mind, he thinks he contributed.  He has a vivid imagination, but reality is less than inspiring.

I loaned him first, last and deposit for the house he lives in NOW.  In the days before his wedding, he was stretched and tried to ask for a loan (in his typical and indirect way in which he starts to say something then stops midstream and says he already knows the answer, so why bother finishing the question, which eventually led to the admission that things were tight), so I brought up the lack of any indication that he intends to repay me for the first/last/deposit loan.  To which he said “you know I’m good for it, I’m not that kind of person…”

I swear, I had to literally bite my tongue.  And held my silence and didn’t offer to help him out.  WTF?  Did I mention anything about shreds of dignity?  What kind of person even considers asking his EX WIFE for a loan to help him pay for things associated with his upcoming wedding to a woman (with four young children of her own) who is practically young enough to be his daughter? W.T.F.

Furthermore, what planet does he hail from, to thinly veil asking to borrow more money from me and then speak of court, judges, threats in nearly the same breath?  What kind of person would be receptive to even part of that conversation?

So.  What does he have planned for a judge in December?  And the comment about me having a boy toy for two or three months?  Hello, the man has already REMARRIED.

Like I said, I think I need to vomit.

I don’t even know what to say.  I put the conversation here, so I can get it out.  Getting it out helps me, somehow.  But I don’t know what to say or think.  I do know that I shouldn’t allow things he says to get to me, and to make me have this visceral reaction.

I can’t really put my finger on it.   The thing that turns my stomach inside out is that any kind of a decent man and father would do anything he could to spend time with his kids.  He plays these games with me, tries to hurt me, to put wrenches in any potential plans I might have, and all the more so if I happen to have a love interest.  All these things to poke at me, without any consideration for the boys.  Does he or does he not want to be a part of their lives?

It’s bullshit to say that the $150/month that is garnished for his boys was previously allocated for fuel and fun.  He contrived that story somewhere along the transition from woman number one, L, and the now wife N.  He was meeting at the park and ride, before he inherited a woman with four children.  Maybe L was contributing to the rent while she lived with him, but N has only recently gotten a job.  How is that my problem?

The new wife has her kids every other week, so he and his bride have a child-free home every other week.  They make plans to do things on their child free days.  How nice for them.

He seldom even calls the boys.  This doesn’t surprise me.  He hardly ever made contact with his daughter, all the years we were together.

The boys don’t talk about him. They don’t ask about him.  They don’t ask to call him.  They don’t tell me they want to go see him.  This breaks my heart for them.  And for him.  My heart would be broken into a hundred thousand pieces if they didn’t think of ME.

I can’t fathom him.   I just can’t.  He could choose to play nice.  Yet he thinks I am the one playing games.

I guess I don’t feel like vomiting any more.  But tears stream down my face.

tears of a clown

Posted in divorce
July 17th, 2010 | No Comments »

Where oh where are those four agreements when I need them?  Specifically, the one about not taking things personally.  I think I have a natural inclination to be impeccable with my word and to do my best, but when it comes to making assumptions and taking things personally, I stumble.  And stumble quickly.

I can only be accountable for my own feelings, and how I feel is a choice, so truly, I should never (or seldom) allow myself to feel hurt.  I need much more practice!  Or a frontal lobotomy.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised or caught off guard when I am misunderstood.  Another person’s reception has much to do with their own reality and perceptions and predispositions, so it’s up to them to sort our their own agreements.  Yes, I can strive to be clear, but apart from that, what can I do?

Am I confused?  Of course!  Who isn’t?  Does anybody have all the answers in life?

I try very hard to do no harm, and I apply that philosophy to all living things.  I try, anyway.  My choices sometimes confound others.  I don’t have any desire to be vindictive or spiteful.  I won’t take advantage of some one or some thing, just because I can.

I seek harmony.  I seek peace.

At some point, I suppose I should learn how to better protect myself.  I’m not ready for a frontal lobotomy.  So I’ll just regroup, over and over and over again.  I know my intentions are innocent.  And that’s the extent of my responsibility.

Me.  What comes from me.  Therein is my accountability.


lizard tongues

Lizard Tongues!  I absolutely adore BB’s imagination!  He presented them to me on a tray.  Look!  Lizard tongues!  And he picked one up and blew the end to make it extend.  Priceless.


hearty bliss

It takes nearly an hour, but I am IN LOVE with steel cut oats!  The secret to their divinity is toasting them first in butter, then cooking them slowly in 1 part milk and 3 parts water to 1 part oats (and a dash of salt).  OMG.  Chop up some dried apricots and cranberries and it’s pure, hearty bliss.

Posted in children, food, me
July 14th, 2010 | 10 Comments »

phoenix rising

I don’t know what the future holds.  I want happily ever after, like anybody else does.  If I could have a made-to-order life companion, I could throw out a list of attributes that would be welcome — tall, brown hair, blue eyes, smart, competent, confident, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, responsible, witty, gentle, strong, mature, educated, thoughtful, playful, sensitive, wise, elegant, savvy, honest, healthy, trustworthy, fun, dependable, interesting, passionate, alive, affectionate, communicative, understanding, patient, excellent.


I don’t even know if I could live with a man again.  I haven’t lived well with the men I shared space with for the past fifteen years.  It’s hard to picture the possibilities.  In a perfect world, with a perfect me, I would be able to live with someone, happily ever after.  I would be able to go to sleep and wake up by his side, and move around in harmony in the space we share.  In a perfect world.

I can’t bring someone into our family fold unless I know beyond all doubt that he is fine and upstanding and will love and honor my children and be a positive influence in their lives.

Meanwhile, I am healing.  I am coming back.  I am re-emerging.  I feel it, and it thrills me.  I am beginning to feel more complete, more beautiful.  I can and will be just fine on my own.  My heart is open.

I’m still susceptible to the jabs* of those who choose to be unkind.  Even so, I am surrounded by so much love, and it quickly assuages any fiery darts that are thrown my way.  My friends and family are so very dear to me, and I am absolutely rich in the love and kindness that we share with each other.

*This photo started a FaceBook flame, but so many fantastic people jumped in with nothing but kindness and support.

Posted in me
June 12th, 2010 | 5 Comments »


I can’t be broken.  I just wanted to say it, for the record.  I can post a picture of my boobs on the internet, in the interest of self healing and self awareness.  And my deliciously squishy belly, in the interest of self acceptance.  But I can’t be broken.  I know this, because I know from where all my intentions spring, and I mean well to all and for all, regardless of how it may play out.  I know this, as well, because in the face of direct onslaught, I still receive blessings of all forms from all sides.  The sun is shining and all is well.  There may be unpleasantness that I have to walk through, but the sun is still shining on me.  So I will continue holding my head high, and I will keep smiling.

Meanwhile, I may have to lawyer up.  But I can do that, if I have to.

And I won’t let one man’s colossal lack of testicular fortitude keep me from believing in the goodness of people in general and men in particular.

I’m not sure how well I can shield the children from their father’s lack of redeeming qualities.  I want for them to grow up with respect for him, but he leaves very little room for such things to be possible.

Posted in divorce, me