This one, I hope he reads.

An open Letter to my children's father:

You have asked me to respond about Parenting Coordinators.  Here goes.

In 2009 we went to Tier I mediation.  You rescinded our Parenting Plan.

In 2009 we went to Tier II mediation.  We came up with an agreement.  It went fine.

In late 2009 we went again to Tier II mediation.  We came up with a plan.  You did not follow it, and then got mad at me because I did.

In 2010 we went again to Tier II mediation.  Some things in it were just not right.  This time since it was our last time allowed before another court date, I hired an attorney.

In 2010 we went to court and were ordered into Co-parent Counseling along with an Assessor.  We did the assessment, came up with agreements, and began orders.  We also talked to a co-parent counselor who gave up because we couldn’t even agree on a date, much less what to talk about.  I followed the orders.  You didn’t.  You repeatedly changed the time and place for exchanges, including having the exchange at a pullout on the side of the freeway.  You started the kids at a new church that I don’t agree with.  You listed your then girlfriend as my children’s mother, and lied to the school about orders.  You repeatedly asked me to change the orders and then got mad when I followed them, asking each time that you go back to co-parent counseling with me so we can start talking.

In 2011 we followed the orders until you decided that it wasn’t good enough and wanted more changes.  You still refused to go to co-parent counseling, and even got to the point where you called it LAME.  Your now-wife verbally abused me and you did nothing.  Your now-wife sent me nasty messages and you did nothing.  I asked again, to go to co-parent counseling, and got no response except to say you wanted “family” counseling to include a people who have nothing to do with our parenting, and even then you made no suggestions or recommendations.

In 2012  you took me back to court and got us back into assessment that got you, what?  An additional 2 hours every other Friday and 45 minutes every other Sunday. So far three judges, two mediators, an assessor on two different occasions, a co-parent counselor, the children’s counselor, two attorneys and both of us have agreed that co-parent counseling would be of benefit to us, and still you refuse.

So what happened?  I decided to stop co-parenting and start parallel parenting with you.  I follow the orders to the letter and have had no problems with the time share at all.  I just do it, and help the kids do it as well.  I inform you of things that are happening, and then send zero reminders or coordination beyond that. I tell you when they are going to the counseling appointments, and then I take them.  I don’t care one way or the other any more if you show up.  I make plans with the kids to do whatever we want, and don’t ask your permission.  I talk with the kids about what they can do to make their lives with you enjoyable because they are the ones who have to have a relationship with you, I don’t.  They have asked you to have family meetings.  You refused while I supported them.  Our son asked to play baseball.  When you refused, I took him anyway and let him know that your participation would be your choice and he would have to work it out with you.  When our daughter asked to stop playing piano I told her I didn’t have a problem with her stopping but that she would have to take it up with you.  She did and she also took it up with both her grandmother and her piano teacher.  I am very proud of her for that. And still you refused  Both have told you they don’t want to go to the church you take them to, and you refuse to listen.  I stay out of it. I don't need to say a word.  You are burying yourself and losing their respect.  I somehow think that doesn't really matter to you.

There are lots of things that I simply don’t like about how you parent.  I don’t like that our son has to sleep in a pantry without ventilation.  I don’t like that they both have access to violent video games and are allowed to watch violent movies. I don’t like that there is no set bedtime for them.  I don’t like the church you take them to .  I don’t like that you still have a renter in the house after agreeing to have the renter out in 2010.  I don’t like that our daughter comes home with sand flea bites from the house every weekend she is there.  I don’t like that you don’t even pay attention to her need to sleep somewhere quiet and has to try to sleep in a very noisy house.  I don’t like that they have to wait for breakfast on the mornings that they are there because someone else is sleeping.  I don’t like that the kids report that you spend all your time on the computer when you have visitation and that you are annoyed when they try to get your attention.  I don’t like that you have no idea what our daughter’s favorite color is, or what our son likes to draw.  I don’t like that the kids are pulling away from you because they realize you don’t actually know anything about them and don’t care, and worse, that you don’t even see it happening.  Our son, our daughter, and I have just learned to suck it up, ignore what we can, and blow off the rest to “that is just the way dad is. Sucks, eh?” and live our lives without your input, since honestly, we are doing completely great without it.  I live with it because they love you.  I live with it because I love them.

All this though, is nothing that can be litigated.  I can’t make you be a good dad.  So instead, I am just a good mom that reminds the kids that you are the only dad have, and they each are the ones that have to decide what kind of relationship they want with you.  I will only support their choices.

So back to coordinators.  I don’t want to see one because it won’t make one bit of difference in how I parent.  And since you won’t talk to me, your opinion is moot.  If at some point you want to grow up and actually be a father to your children, then feel free to talk to me, find someone for us both to talk to cooperatively, or man up and just do what’s right.  Until then nothing else will matter and I will just love on our children and guide them the way I choose, until they make the decisions for themselves.  And that is happening faster than realize. 

All this time you talk the talk, and still can't seem to make it a reality for yourself.  All the people you have dragged into our lives have not made any difference.  Adding one more, well, that is your choice.  Have fun with wasting even more time you could spend just getting to know our kids.  They are awesome and you are missing out with all these professionals you want to make your choices for you.  Too bad. The kids and I are fine.

And I am patient, I can wait.

So thank you. All my love for the amazing children I have in my life.  I am sorry you don't get it.

Elise,

You children's mother, now and always

Spinning

I have been spinning things in my head. Possibly because I am not writing often enough here at blog central.  Possibly because I stopped seeing (read that as stopped being able to afford) my counselor.  Possibly because I have not been taking enough Vitamin D.  Possibly because there are people in my children's lives who have no freaking clue who they are or what they need, and it has me just a touch freaked out.  Yep, that's it.  Sleep has skipped out on me.

Last night, while listening to the clock strike the 1:30am chime, I also heard a really loud thump against my bedroom wall.  Turns out it was my daughter's knee, and she was just as awake as I was.  Awake, and wanting to talk.  I got us some milk, used the bathroom, and cuddled us both up in her duvet on the twin bed. 

Turns out that she is kinda feeling a lot of the same things I am feeling.  

Yesterday, earlier in the evening we had her counseling appointment. The usual rules applied for the session in that the adult(s) (usually it is just me, last night her father joined us) get about 5 minutes of time at the very beginning to state some thing that has been happening that we think might need to be discussed.  Something about how things are going from a relationship status, friends, feelings blah blah blah.  It really is just a starter, and then the child who has the appointment goes in without anyone else and gets to direct the session. Last night my ex wanted to talk about the letter I gave his wife about no-contact, and why I had let my daughter (and son) know the contents of the letter.  He wanted the counselor to say how wrong wrong wrong that was of me to involve them.  He did not want to talk about his wife's crying jags, or that she called me a bitch in front of my kids, or that my kids don't like her. 

I stayed very quiet for the most part, gauging my daughter's reactions, and seeing her eyes roll a couple times, I knew that nothing I could say right then would make one damn bit of difference.

The counselor gave me a little reprimand for having shared "adult" topics with my children, and that those should be off limits.  A slight warning about courts and stuff.  Whatever.  I have been doing this long enough now to know the courts don't actually give a shit. Next.  My ex was told he need to get some parenting classes and was advised that his wife should learn to respect boundaries.  Again, next.

What I didn't realize until 1:31am, cuddled around my daughter, was that she heard the counselor say all that too, and instead of talking to her counselor about her feelings, she talked about nothing.  Her thought was that the whole session was a waste of time.  I got it quickly, in that early morning flash of insight that sometimes happens; my daughter believed that her counselor had told her that the entire TOPIC labeled as "adult" were now off limits for her to talk about, too.  She was feeling isolated and alone because she had lost her outlet of the counselor and was afraid that my "reprimand" meant I was going to stop talking about the stuff with her for fear of some court reprisal. 

That was what the eye rolling had meant. It had meant, in her head, to convey to me that she knew better.  That she knew that was not the mom she got.  She got the mom that was going to say stuff to her honestly and openly, and counselor reprimands or not, nothing had changed.

Then came the spinning in her head, the self doubt, the over-thinking.  Oh how like her mother she actually is.  What if mom stops talking to me?  What if mom really does think I don't need to hear adult topics?  What if I can't trust my mom to tell me the truth in a way that I will understand?  What if she takes Dad's side, and I am stuck without any choices?  Wow, my girl can spin it.  This all came out in a rather heavy sobbing-and-grasping meltdown fueled by exhaustion.  She was afraid.

She got my reassurance, and commitment, to never treat her in a way that makes her less intelligent than I know she is.  I helped her see that I was not going anywhere and that my silence at the counseling session was not me abandoning her, but siding with her in knowing that nothing we said right then would change US.  I cried with her, letting her know that I was scared, too. Not of the courts, but that maybe I had forced upon her a growing-up-fast mantra she did not need to have.  She sighed a lot as I held her.  She was drained, but relieved, I knew, because her body softened, her yawns started, and she hugged me when I told her I loved her.

She fell asleep after I told her I would not leave until my butt started hurting too much from being squished in a twin bed, and that her feet stank.  She giggles, cuddled up, sighed and asked if we could talk more later because she was tired.  She made me pinky-swear-cross-my-heart-promise.  I did.  I fell asleep not too long after.

I am hoping for less spinning and more sleep tonight.  You might be seeing more blogs on the topic just so both my daughter and I can rest.  I think I will go buy her another journal, one with pretty spinning colors on the front.  One we can share.  Like mother like daughter.  Her next counseling appointment, should she decide she wants to go, will involve exploring adult topics. She gets this, and I am more than willing to understand that about her, even if no one else does.

Never trust Hallmark

I was handed a card a few weeks ago on a Wednesday evening.  It had my name on it. So I guess it was intended for me.  My ex handed it to me.  I took it, the way most people do when handed things, without even thinking about it much at first.  I mean I try not to take the flyer and other advertisements that hawkers at places like the Boardwalk and the farmer's market try to hand me. But usually it still ends up in my hands, with me shaking my head wondering what the fuck I am supposed to do with it now.  I also usually say thank you, trying to be polite in the most ordinary non-committal way possible.

When I was handed this particular card by my ex, in the split second it was in my hand, I read that it not only had my name on it, but both my children's names as well.  And get this, it also had my ex's name right there in black ink on the Hallmark yellow envelope.  I also tried to process, in that split second, what it could be, and who had not heard that the four of were not a family any more.  Invitation to a BBQ? Photos from an event years ago we all attended? Cash from a family member using both me and my kid's father as a filter for my children's potential riches?

But, suspiciously, instead of the words "thank you" coming out of my mouth, I said "Who is this from?"  It only slightly shocked me that it was from my ex's wife.


On Friday of that week, I handed my ex a letter I had written.  It outlined in no uncertain terms my exact expectation from his wife, and his own continuing belief that I somehow give a shit about her, him, or their continuing happiness together as  people, a couple, or as adults in my children's lives.  I honestly, at this point three years in, could care less if they are happy, sad, indifferent.  Basically I just want them both to leave me the fuck alone, and barring that, for her to never ever ever talk to me.  Seems completely clear in my head.

Having written the letter, I owed it to my children to give them the heads-up that there was going to be fall out from it in the form of whining and crying and convincing and name-calling, and that while I was not changing my position, I would not do it if they thought the outcome was more than they could handle.  My daughter, being the amazing relationship guru of all time said "About time you said all this." My son, the more ethereal of the two in matters of emotions was quiet but said he could handle it, and demonstrated his technique by pulling up the hood on his jacket and plugging his ears.  We all laughed, because it was damn funny, and then let it go.  I gave the letter to their father at pickup.

The fall out was as expected.  His wife called my daughter mean, while crying and saying how hurt she was.  Their father said that it was all my fault because I was just a bitch who didn't want any happiness in her life and was poisoning them.  The family meeting they held involved more crying on his wife's part, a decision (without my children's input or consent, mine either for that matter) that family counseling would be in order, and a plea for the kids to try to "bring your mom around, we all just want to be a big happy family".

I let my kids choose their own interpretation, and mostly it came down to feeling like it was all fake and manipulative. We moved on, and basically decided the decision was on my ex and his wife to abide by my wishes or not.  I expected not, but we could deal with that when it happened.  I was happy to have said it again, even if they paid no attention to it at all.

Yesterday was Father's Day.  My kids spent it  with their dad.  I also knew his wife would be around, doing whatever it is she does, and that being the newly self-appointed guardian of my children's well being as it relates to their father, she would have her hand in all the plans.  What happened falls in to the category of the truly weird.  She came up to my daughter on her own on Sunday morning, while my daughter was peacefully munching Coco Puffs near the pool and told my daughter about how much she wanted to start hanging out with me, be my friend, and join in on the five of us (that would be me, my ex, the two kids, and her I suppose) becoming a close family. To that end, she promised to start coming to my children's counseling sessions so she could be recognized as an important mother figure in my children's lives. 

Um.. what the fuck?

My daughter got home and told me all about it, and asked if she could call her counselor right then.  I dialed and handed her the phone. She articulately told her counselor that she did not want her dad's wife there, and could the counselor call her dad and tell him too. Thirty or so minutes later, my ex texted, asking my daughter to call.  I let her. He proceeded to try to tell her that she had misunderstood his wife, and that she didn't really mean all that , and that she would come to the counseling session and sit in the car and that my daughter needs to be nice.  I heard the whole thing, saw my daughter's face of confusion, took the phone and said to him that I believed every word my daughter had to say, that I didn't appreciate him calling her a liar, that I was so proud of her for doing the right thing and calling her counselor and that his wife was not welcome, period.

He tried to spin it. It is his usual MO.  I am poisoning the kids, I am negative and unhappy. I want him to suffer and never have anything positive in his life blah blah blah.  Before I hung up I said, feel free to do what you want, but that I would be happy to help my daughter call him a liar to his face at the next counseling meeting.

So now we wait.  I could predict what this will be like.  He will show up, chickie girl will stay in the car.  He will try to say my daughter misunderstood, but wouldn't family counseling be a good thing for all of us so we can all be happy.  He will basically be ignored and he doesn't even know it yet.  His wife will not even exist, and the kids and I will go have See's candy and pizza and laugh a lot.  They will not be invited.  They don't belong in our world and they are desperately trying to figure out how to hold on to the happiness and strength my children and I exude from our whole being.

All this started because I thought a big yellow envelope might contain something fun.  Damn optimistic streak! Moral of the story?  Stop taking those damn flyers, and keep saying no when you mean it. Counseling on Tuesday can't come fast enough.  Bring it!

Mixed Geek Metaphors

It is May the Fourth.  For every geeky kid out there, playing with light sabers while wearing a bathrobe, today is your day. 

I have these children. I am these children. 

My son, if given his way in all things, would live to play baseball, Star Wars, and Legos, all while carrying around a pen and engineering-type notebook designing very complex video games with multi-player, multi-level actions sequences.  These sequences would revolve around baseball, Star Wars and Legos.  I think it is divine.  He is a second grader who can not only understand 6th grade math, but can teach this math to his sister, a 4th grader.  He builds miniature robots and droids out of whatever is around. Cardboard, painter's tape, spoons (yes, I have had to dismantle things so we could eat dinner), Legos (of course) and recently Q-Tips, popsicle sticks, and the arms and legs off of Barbies. (My daughter gave him permission to borrow them as long as no permanent markers or scissors were used, and he gave her a cash deposit.)  It has been adventure.

My daughter, if given her way in all things, would live to have her hair be like Princess Leah all the time, while simultaneously wearing one purple high top and one pink one, and carrying a copy of Harry Potter under one arm, and a diary under the other.  Her diary is a complex grouping of stories and friends and thoughts and poetry, and dreams.  I think it is divine.  She is a fourth grader who has no interest in boys, but understands almost intuitively the complexes of relationships.  She pays attention.  She knows from her heart when things are done with a mean intent, and calls people on it.  Her friends are drawn to her because she is quirky but confident, out-spoken but kind, independent but social.  She seems to do a great job on balancing the fine line between being funny and being weird.  She is honest, and I marvel at how intelligently she can speak about what she sees and feels.  She shares these insights with her brother, and they have come to an understanding somehow that she voices his concerns to the letter, and then defends him completely. 

Me, if given my way in all things, would live to write down every random thought that pops into my head.  I own a really nice fountain pen, but would prefer a whole bunch of gel pens in various shades of red.  I would write all day about how I see the world, what I have learned while sitting at the beach, and describe, in detail, the shape and color of seaglass collected on the many walks I would be taking.  I share these thoughts with my kids sometimes, who roll their eyes and sigh.  When I catch them using the seaglass from the big bowl we have of it sitting on the end table in the living room, I smile and know they are listening, and that I have done my job.  They are well on their way to thoughtful geekness, and I am proud.

If you have children, you might get some of this.  This overwhelming need to have your children be independent, and be exactly like you, at the same time.  My children look like me, and not at all like their dad.  Some days I wish they had inherited their father's denim blue eyes. But 99% of the time, I am glad there is no doubt who got the majority of the genes.  This works totally in my favor at places like the Tech Museum and the Exploratorium when I play, too, and can just blame it on my kids by just pointing and shrugging my shoulders.  They get to go off and teach me stuff from their areas of interest (like my son building a drawing bot, or my daughter using the CrazyCaptcha Hair camera site) and I get to show them how to make paper from gooey stuff and pieces of flowers.  It is a good match.

So this morning, when the May the Fourth thing was brought up, my kids both did something to "celebrate".  My son put on a Jedi Robe from the costume box over his Star Wars T-shirt.  My daughter asked me to help her put her hair up in two buns on the side of her head.  She is carrying a collapsible Barbie sized light saber in her backpack that she will NOT take out (the whole weapons at school rule she was quick to remind me) but will make her happy to know is there.  I changed my ring tone to the Star Wars theme song.

Then they asked for Reese's Pieces. (We have them for a penny out of an old gumball machine in our kitchen.) When I asked why, they said that they could use ET instead of Star Wars to celebrate if it meant getting candy, since there is no Star Wars food.  Yep, geek children.  I love it. Today is a great day.

I am with the Government. I am here to help.

So today, one of my employees (who also happens to be a friend) walks into my office regarding a tax withholding question.  It is my job to explain the leave and earning statement so I ask him to take a seat.  He says that it is not a question for him, but for a friend in the department.  I said I could answer general questions, but nothing specific for the person unless he or she wanted to bring in the right paperwork, but yes, I was willing to help.

This is what I got instead:  How could a woman who is married  to a man who was previously married and is in arrears in his child support make it so the government would not take their tax return to pay the debt?

It was all I could do not to take the baseball bat I keep under my desk out and smashing the employee’s head in.

Yeah, I said it.  I wanted to kill him.  I kept it together, but only just barely.  I told him that no, I could not help someone figure out how to defraud the District Attorneys’ Office out of the legally mandated way to collect due child support.  I told him that no, I did not know how to have the employee change her withholding so that none of “her” money would be considered in their joint tax return.  I told him that no, I could not recommend a good tax attorney or accountant, and that no, the tax center here could not help.

I gave him the brochure to the Employee Assistance Plan, and the links to the online pay site to share with the employee who did not come in.  Then, I asked him to close my office door.

***(Disclaimer:  Most of the serious profanity happened in my head.  Some slipped out, I am not saying which, but some did. The intent was loud and clear though.)***

I asked him if he knew if the other employee knew her husband had a child and was not paying his child support? (She does.)  I asked him if she knew that she, as his wife, was responsible for the debt if they filed joint tax returns? (She knows.)  I asked him if she was stupid to stay married to the husband? (He said “Probably, but she loves him.”)  I was angry, and let him know that while I can support a woman’s right to be with whatever prick they chose to be with, fucking with his kids from a former marriage was a total douche bag thing to do.  What the hell was she thinking when she whined about her tax return being seized?  What the fuck was she doing to get herself involved with, much less marrying  a guy who doesn’t care about his past responsibilities?  Why the fuck didn’t she pay, or make him pay, the child support all along?

My friend tried to defend her, saying she was a good person, the guy was being screwed in the custody, that they were poor… blah blah blah.  I wouldn’t have any of it.  I said that custody and support have nothing to do with each other, that children still need to eat.  I said that burying your head in the sand as you stand by and watch your man screw over his own children  makes you just as much of a worthless piece of shit.  I said that if she was doing nothing for his children and their tax return got taken, then good, they deserved it.  Fuck them.  I also asked him why it mattered to him at all.

This was about the time that the movie plot happened, and the phone rang, saving me from having to hurt him, and him having to lie about where he got his injuries.  I had been rolling the baseball bat around with my foot during the whole conversation.  I came back to my professional voice and when he stepped out of my office while I was on the phone I asked him to keep the door open.

About 15 minutes later I get an email from him apologizing for asking me about it.  I apologized for anything I said that was rude, and told him to please give the paperwork I had previously given him to his co-worker.  He wrote back and said he had already, and thanked me for the information.  We had lunch two hours later, and it was fine.  He got it, I got it, our friendship intact without apologies about stupid people.  The burrito was delicious. He paid my tab.

I know exactly why this whole thing angered me.  If you have read my blog you will know, too.  What I didn’t know until I started writing all this down is how strongly I feel about it.  My next step, I just realized, is that now I have to figure out what to do about it.  Simply being a woman who might periodically stand her ground, to a person who’s friendship quells the fire I was feeling, will not be enough.  Not in the long term.  So having now told the story, I will have to do something about it.  Damn.  Just when I think my life is on a smoother than usual path, the stupid path-less-traveled shows up.  More work.

Time to research agencies looking for people to help them empower women and children  even more.  I am soliciting mentors.  Any takers?

A little blogging on the side...

I am completely amazed (in that good kind of way) by my friends with blogs.

I have a friend who has been blogging for about 7 years. It is a family commentary, social connection kinda blog, with happy pictures of the kids and dogs. I don't go to the page often. Not that I don't want to hear about the kids and dog (I do, and I like the Christmas card newsletter once a year). It is more that it is a lot of exactly-the-same. The same trip to the pumpkin patch. The same kids on the swings. The same family portrait in front of the fire. Yes, there are the blogs about the dirt-mess that the kids created while hunting for lightning bugs. Yes, there are the blogs about inspirational bible passages. Yes, there are even blogs about volunteer efforts and good deeds. I am periodically inspired, but not enough to read it all the time. I don't have a life that is that routine, that captured in pictures, that similar to all the other once a year letters I have read. I suppose that shows happiness, and I can appreciate the need to have that spill over into the virtual world. I just can't do it.

I have another friend who just writes just poetry. Okay, not exactly *writes*. Sometimes the blog is just other people's poetry. Sometimes it is my friends’. Often it is awful. Periodically it is good. Rarely is it stellar. But the fact that it is out there is the part that impresses me. It is my friend’s expression. I love that. If I was going to write poetry, I suppose this would be my blog exactly. I don't write poetry. I write fiction. I also write a blog that I don't care if anyone reads. If I wrote poetry, I would want people to read it, and I guess that is why this friend posts the poetry to the blog. But since I don't, and I can't wrap my brain around the flowy or edgy or meaningful prose, I don't read it often.

I have a friend who has a blog all about fitness. It includes graphs and charts and links and advise and some calorie-counting-eat-this-not-that-protien-power-all-vegan-yoga-guru stuff. I have been there once in the last six months. Like my gym membership, I have let it lapse.

I have a friend with a world travel blog. I am too jealous to read it most of the time. I like the pictures.

I know a person who started out with a simple home-ec-how-to blog years ago. It was friendly, sweet, inspired. It was before Pinterest, but had a collection of links and recipes and likes. It was fun to look through and see what I could do in my bathroom or kitchen, and what was inspiring others as well. I stopped reading it the day the first ad went up.

I have one friend who puts herself out there in a way that scares and inspires me. She is able to say the work "fuck" better than anyone I have ever met. She even wrote a blog about that very topic. I love that she is fearless in a way I am not. I read her blog, both her new one and her old one, whenever I can. I am a fan. She is living her life in a fast lane, take no prisoners, no holds barred way that leaves me breathless. I want to be her. I also don't. Her writing is beautiful, and raw. It is scorched and edgy. If is flawless and in your face, and makes no apologies. I find both humor and sadness in her blatant honesty. I love that she is real, and I could have drinks with her. I will read what she writes. It makes me think.

So I wonder what my place is in the world of blogs? I don't think I will ever add advertisement to my sidelines, so if you are reading this now, rest assured I will not be bombarding your viewing screen with cat food ads or vacation planning services. I don't think I will ever care how many people are actually reading the blog, so don't expect a hit counter any time soon. I don't write poetry, so that is not likely to come up either. What I am creating for my place is a bit of both laziness and necessity.  This blog, to date, has been a place to vent my frustrations, share my happiness, energize my mind, and enrich my soul.  I hope I do not bore people who do read it, but mostly I hope that the stuff I have locked up in my head that keeps me from my real life has a place to be.  Sometimes quietly, often loudly, always with my truth. 

So keep reading.  Maybe something will inspire you to start your own.  Let me know, and I will stop by sometimes.

 

Guardrail Gratitude

I got another "I am human" moment to add to my list.

Last night, I ate terrible spaghetti, and even worse salad, all in the name of fundraising for my son's baseball league. I am not really complaining about the food here, it is always awful and I enjoy it anyway. I am even glad I went because it is sort of a yearly ritual that lets me see friends and be silly. I kinda love it. Here is the kicker for me though: my children's father and the woman he is currently married to decided that this would be a good time to be supportive and family oriented. Barf.

Now up here on my high road, I can be supportive of their decision to help fund youth sports. It is a public event, and well, they can spend their money and time anyway they want to. I can even be grateful that he shows up at all to anything involving my children, and don't hold any grudges at all about his/their participation. But, with that said, the phrase "Oh Hell NO, I am not fucking sitting with them!" passed through my head. Even when they sat with my parents. Even when they tried to hold my place in line. Even when my children sat with them. I mean, it was his visitation night, he purchased their dinner, and the kids sitting with him was exactly what I expected. Did that mean I had to sit with them, and play nice? In my mind I don't think so.

So I didn't. I didn't sit with my parents. I didn't sit with my kids. I sat, instead, with my friends and fellow baseball parents, many of whom I had known for years, even some since childhood. I had a great time, laughing, joking, catching up. It was fun. I paid absolutely no attention to my ex, his wife, or, consequently, my parents and children for about an hour. It was fine.

What happened on the way home is my "less-than-super-mom" moment. My daughter said she didn't eat dinner. I was surprised since I had seen her in line to get food, had seen her sit down with the same plate of food in front of her, and had watched as she threw her plate in the garbage. I asked her why? She said she waited for me to come sit next to her and everyone, and that when I didn't she didn't eat. I told her, with a soft tone at first, that I was not going to come sit with her dad and his wife, ever, and that I was fine that she did, and she could have eaten her dinner without me. She wanted to know why I wouldn't come sit with them, since she (the wife) was not being mean right then. This is when I lost it. I said that I can't pretend and play nice with a woman who called me a fucking worthless bitch in front of my kids, and then told me I deserved to have my baby die in a follow up email.

My daughter was floored. My son was silent. I was pissed. So I went on a bit of a rant. I told them that I don't really care how "not mean" the ex's wife was being right then. She had already shown me who she is, and I don't want to be near her. I didn't care if she turned out to receive the Nobel Peace prize for her amazing work with the sick and homeless. I didn't care if she was angelic and nominated for sainthood. My experience of her is that she is vile and cruel. And that I never, not ever ever ever wanted to be around her, hear her, interact with her, or otherwise be in any setting where she existed. That she had crossed a line by being so vicious to me on more than one occasion that the cease and desist letter that was sent through the Domestic Violence center telling her in very plain language that I wanted her to stay out of my life forever would be my M.O. for all time. I would treat her as a non-person, not in my field of vision, non-existent and not even worthy of my sitting at a table eating crappy spaghetti, even if it meant I missed out on something.

After my rant, I cried. I did not apologize, but I did cook my daughter some dinner. I spent another half hour texting friends, ratting myself out like some catholic school-girl, seeking validation, and a little understanding. I got it, so a shout-out goes to JB and RA and BE and SC for keeping me sane.

This morning the kids and I talked, some about my emotions, and a lot about how when people in your life show you who they are, you should believe them the first time. And that it was what I had done with their dad's current wife. We talked about being fake for show, and how that doesn't really count if you are still mean behind closed doors. They "got it" immediately because they visit their dad and his wife twice a month and had seen the real side just the same. We talked about picking who you respect, and about standing up for yourself, and about not being fake yourself just to put on a show for others. Yep, I might have been angry, but I was not going to play nice just to have other people feel better. I had done that for too long, and just don't feel up for it. We laughed a lot during the conversation because, of course, all of our important conversations happen while we are half naked trying to get out the door in the morning. It is amazing the things you learn over getting dressed, packing up homework, and apparently spaghetti.

So today, I am back on my high road. Happy for a guard rail, and willing to take the hit for my momentary exit. One of my friends helped me by saying "Stay Real. The kids will find their own path." That is where I am at today. I am good with it.