December 25th, 2010 | Comments Off on the grinch who stole christmas

A more apt title would be Gadget Sucks.

Christmas Eve – his time with the boys. We had agreed to a 7pm exchange. At the last minute he said something came up and asked that I come all the way to his house to get them. I have had a headache all day, and driving at all is hard. I offered to meet him later. A bunch of useless back and forth texting ensued with a final commitment to meet at 10:30 pm. At the last minute he said change it to 10 am. I thought he meant pm, but no, he meant am. I said no, I will be at the park&ride at 10:30pm as agreed.

So here I am. No response from any further messages. Apparently he’s not coming.

What of the Santa experience for the boys? He said he’d tell them I didn’t want to see them for Christmas. Such a blatant lie. I’m physically sick from this.

My work has family care resources. I’m going to call and ask for help, for some consultation regarding what I can do, whether a lawyer can help me. I have to do something.

He’s deliberately sabotaging my life, and the kids are caught in the crossfire.

~*~*~*~

Follow up

9:13pm last text received from him.  9:15, 9:56, 10:36pm – my texts with no reply. 1:34am he replies ‘just got your messages via text…thanks alot’

It’s asinine.  Somehow in his mind he thinks *I* am the unreasonable one.

8:00 am he texts to meet at 9 am at the park and ride.  I immediately told him to bring them all the way home, but I don’t want to see his face anywhere near my home today, so I then told him I will meet him there after all.

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Posted in bellyaching, divorce, me
October 9th, 2010 | 1 Comment »

the bird

I’ve been sick all week.  Trying hard not to let it take hold.  I even took all of us to urgent care on Tuesday, to get checked out.  We got the all clear, but got one prescription for LB for the pink eye that was making the rounds, just in case.  So who gets pink eye?  Me.  Followed by BB.  LB has a runny nose and a cough.  BB is a bit stuffed up.  And I’m a complete mess.  I took a sick day on Friday, which is just as well because BB got kicked out of daycare the minute they noticed his rosy eyes.  It’s funny how such a ruckus is made over pink eye.  Whatever version we have doesn’t even hurt.  It’s nothing compared with the sore throat that has persisted all week.  I’ve been drinking lemony tea, gargling with cayenne pepper and vinegar, sucking on menthol throat drops, popping the ibuprofen like it’s going out of style, and even working my way through the remnants of my ancient prescription painkillers.  Thank GOD the boys don’t have the sore throat.  I wouldn’t know how to help them and it would break my heart to know they had to just suffer through it.

So this is the big wedding weekend for Gadget.  His daughter and stepson are here from Kentucky, having arrived on Tuesday.  His twin and significant other arrived yesterday from New York.  I’m not sure who else is here, but rumor has it that it’s a big wedding, with 200-300 guests.  Gadget mentioned something months ago about the boys having a role in the ceremony.  I started trying to make some plans a few weeks ago, so that the kids could see that side of their family.  It turned out that Friday was a no-school day, so I told Gadget that I could actually bring the kids over on Thursday after work.  That way they could spend some time with their siblings.  They’ve never even met LB.  “We’ll see….” is what I got from Gadget.  I tried to solidify plans as the week progressed.  He finally said “No, don’t bring the kids over until around 4pm on Saturday.”  Why not Thursday, I asked.  Gadget said he wouldn’t even be home until 9:30pm Thursday, and his kids wouldn’t babysit.  WTH.  I wasn’t asking them to BABYSIT.  And at 16 and 21, are they not responsible enough to spend a few hours with my boys, their BROTHERS, unaccompanied?  WTH?  So it comes out that there is some function on Saturday for the over 12 crowd and there is nobody to watch the little kids.  He pretty much declares that I should bring them over at 4 on Saturday and pick them up Sunday.  I told him I’m not a taxi service.  My window of helpfulness was Thursday evening.  If he couldn’t work with that, then figure it out his own.  I thought I was very clear.

Fast forward to today.  Saturday.  3:54pm.  He texts me.

Him: Are you bringing the kids?

Me: I’m sick.

Him: That’s ok two can play your silly game. I knew you would pull some crap like this, but whatever.

Me: What game.  I’m sick.  U can come get them if you want.

Him: Whatever

Me: I’ve been waiting for you to communicate about how u want to handle the boys and haven’t heard a word.  What do u expect?

Him: At least I didn’t make up something. To be at least civil and not make up a lie not to do something. I wanted to bring the kids here to spend time but everything didn’t  work out that way but I have talked to you and you wanted nothing to do with anything so there you go.  You got all mad. You’re just pissed.

Me: U told me when u wanted them here.  I told u what worked for me-Thurs. I told u to figure out a plan.  Did u? And I DON’T LIE.

Him: If I have to pick them up then  they won’t be back until u pick them up on Wed.  When I say I don’t have fuel I’m not making it up.

WTH.  He didn’t even TRY to figure out an alternate plan.  He thinks it’s appropriate that I drop everything, drive an hour each way, and drop the boys off at the time he edicted.  His family members live North of me.  He lives South of me.  He could coordinate with someone to pick up the boys on their way.  He’s asked my dear friend’s husband to photograph the wedding.  He could ask them to bring the boys.  He had several options he could have explored, yet he did nothing.

So, here I am, sicker than hell, can barely swallow or breathe, and I just break into sobs.  Right in front of BB.  So then I have to tell BB that I’m crying because his dad thinks I’m lying about being sick.  Not to mention, my beautiful angel of a boy has been excited and looking forward to seeing his relatives.  And I had to tell him, no, you can’t go see them Thursday.  Or Friday.  And it doesn’t look like he’s coming to get you now.

Still sobbing, I check the clock and call my friend.  Luckily, they’ve not left yet, so they come over and get the boys.  Solution.

The man is incompetent.  And an ass.  Check out the reflection.  It’s ludicrous that I would make up a story and lie.  That he could even conceive such a notion speaks volumes as to how deeply he knows the essence of ME.

Un-flipping-believable.  I am *this* close to incorporating the f-bomb into my vocabulary.  I was recently able to produce the gesture depicted above, albeit still with a smile, and not directed at the ex.  That one was directed at my geeky friend, who I shall call Sailor.  I think he’s trying to toughen me up.  He shares his drama and I attempt to give him a rational female perspective.  I share my drama, and he offers his crude male perspective.  Basically, he says I should stand up for myself and take Gadget to the cleaners by going after max child support and daycare contributions.

Thus far, no man I encounter seems to understand my idea of the high road.  I don’t get it.  They almost unanimously share tales of child support woes.  Maybe it just kills them to see that they, being the nice guys they are, get shafted, yet Gadget, being the apparent ass that he is, gets to skate.  Gadget, as we all know, thinks he is being shafted.

I’m tired of trying to explain it to anybody.  I don’t want to hurt him.  I don’t want to make his life miserable.  I’m not vindictive.  I just want him to step up and be a man.  Good Lord.  Just. Be. A. Man.

And I hope and pray with all the hope and earnestness that I have in my heart that I can live long enough to raise my children, because if they had to be raised by him, they would have a tough road, without good and honorable examples and guidance.  I don’t want them to think it’s okay to lie.  Or to be selfish.  Or self-serving.  Or materialistic.  Or lazy.

So I guess I better step up my game, as far as taking better care of myself goes.  I have young lives to help shape.

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February 20th, 2008 | 3 Comments »

Although the better part of me tries to avoid making stereotypical comments, assumptions, or generalizations, there are times when the other part of me surfaces. I’ll try not to be defamatory, but I’m just so frustrated.

Mr. Gadget’s son graduates from high school this year. I’m taking an alone trip (to Australia!) so he gets to take an alone trip to attend the graduation ceremony. Fair! (There’s a way in my mind that I can completely justify this as being fair, but I won’t go into the convoluted logic. It is fair! Fair!) After graduation, MG is going to bring his son and daughter back to stay with us for the summer. (Good LORD, I may need to get my hands on some Valium*!)

Mr. Gadget’s ex is not particularly good at planning and coordinating things, such as making sure that any doctor appointments that the children need are scheduled around, not during the time when they will be here. We didn’t even get to see them last year due to badly and inconsiderately scheduled appointments. This year, I started prodding MG very early so that he would coordinate with and prod the ex into getting appointments and dates lined up and squared away. Finally, we were able to agree on some dates.

Time is of the essence, because air fares climb steadily as summer approaches. Not that summer is approaching, but the fares have been climbing. Originally there was a targeted date for graduation, and then we learned it had been changed. We waited for the school to sort things out and solidify their dates. Finally, between the wishy washy school powers that be who set graduation dates and the wishy washy ex, we had the window figured out. So we hop on the internet to book tickets. One round trip from here to there for MG, two round trips from there to here for the kids. In the time it took MG to book the tickets, the prices for each rose $100. Needless to say, I was a bit miffed at him. (Mr. Independent had to do it himself, whereas moi, Ms. Lightning Fast at Internet Shopping, sat patiently by, giving him his space. I wouldn’t have been that miffed at him for taking 4 hours to get it done, but the fact that the delay caused the total trip price to rise over $200 was reason for a little bit of ire.)

A week goes by, and we receive an email from the travel company notifying us that they’ve changed one of the flights. So now the children would be flying back on a different airplane. MG was all over the customer service rep in a heartbeat, and got his flight changed to match his children’s flight. That is, after about two hours of explaining, more than once, that he’s a divorced dad going to see his kids and bring them back for a summer visit, and he’d like for them all to fly together, thank you very much, and yes, his trip is from here to there and their trip is from there to here. Yes, his return trip must match their departure trip. Exhausting.

So, not twenty minutes after he gets the new itineraries printed and copies sent to the kids, the phone rings. It’s the ex. Graduation has been changed to a week later.

I don’t know if he called the principal yet and raised holy hell, but what are they thinking? They had already solidified a date. Students have ordered their graduation invitations. Geographically distant family members have made travel plans.

Of course we buy the cheapest air fares we can find, which means they’re non-refundable, and there’s a hefty surcharge to make any changes. So frustrating!

These people, this school, is in Kentucky. Not the most economically advantaged place on the planet. When I was preparing for my own graduation, those fancy invitations were no small expense for my family to accommodate. It must be similarly challenging, financially, for those students and their families now.

All because of poor planning. (Okay, so I’m a control freak. Planning is an essential part of my universe.) Even so, this seems fit to stretch the limits of even normal non-control-freak people. Doesn’t it?

*I now understand why my grandmother needed Valium when we came to visit.

Posted in family