So it just got better. And by better, I mean felonious.

Remember yesterday, when I told you that I reminded SeaFed and Lady Federline that they needed a notarized permission letter to travel out of the country with my child? Yeah. Guess how that information was processed? I get this email this morning:

Subject: “written permission for Franny to travel”

From: SeaFed@Assdonut.com
To: sj@iasshole.org

Hi SJ,

Thanks for bringing up the notarized copy today. In
lieu of that I drafted a quickie letter of permission
signed by “you”, per your suggestion, with your phone
# just in case we need it. I appreciate you being so
flexible about this whole thing. I’m sure I’ll have
a chance to reciprocate soon.

SeaFed

PER MY SUGGESTION? Bitch, I did not tell you to fucking forge my name on a letter you should have gotten months ago. That little addition was pretty slick, I must admit. Way to make it look like it was my idea.

I printed off the email and called the non-emergency police line and told them that my ex-husband just emailed me and told me he was forging a letter to take my child out of the country. If there’s one thing I learned from my lawyer, it’s to get a record of EVERYTHING.

The cops came and an officer took my side of the story. I made it really clear that I was not okay with him forging my name for anything. They detained SeaFed at his house. It turns out they were leaving today.

He called me later and tried to get me to run down to the bank with him to see a notary, and I ended up telling him I wouldn’t do it. He actually apologized but there was a lot of confusion on his part.

“So are you not okay with her going to France?” he said.

“I don’t care about that,” I said. “You emailed me and told me that you were forging my name. I will not abet your petty crimes ever again.”

At one point he told me that if I was not okay with her going, I could keep her with me for the next two weeks and just they would go. I told him that that was a shitty choice–now I get to choose to be a beast and keep my kid home on the day of the trip? I told him that what I wanted from him was to follow the rules, and assume that I never, ever want to break the law with him.

“Your moral compass is so shaky…this is why I don’t trust you. This is why I’m never alone with you anymore. I can’t believe you are dragging your new wife into your dumb schemes,” I said.

“It looks like there was a misunderstanding,” he said.

“THERE WAS NO MISUNDERSTANDING! I did not tell you to forge my name!”

“Okay, it was a mistake then. But you said that….”

“I said that you all have the same last name, and that That Poor Woman and I have the same initials! I said that you might be able to get through with just Franny’s passport.”

He tried to get me to make a verbal agreement on the phone that it was okay for him to take her. I said that wouldn’t do any good, because he would just say whatever he wanted to later.

I also talked to Franny’s stepmother, who sounded annoyed with me for not cooperating at the last minute after SeaFed forged my name. She said, “Well, we’re in a real pickle right now. Are we going to find cops waiting for us at the airport?”

I told her that I didn’t care enough to monkeywrench them at the airport. I think it’s been clear, for anyone in my real life, and anyone who follows this that I didn’t care if she went to France or not. My concern was that I knew they were forging my name.

I told her that I was not married to him anymore, and that I would never go along with anything illegal that he was doing ever again, no matter how minor. Her reply was that she thought I was giving her the go-ahead for them to do it too. That’s what’s so fucked up about all this. I stood in front of both of them yesterday, and was basically like, “Good luck at the airport. Idiots.” I did make the observation that the airport people might not notice that Franny didn’t belong to both of them. But I did not say to make up a document.

This is so fucked up, because 1) they could have taken care of this weeks ago; 2) even if they forged my name, it wouldn’t be notarized; 3) they were willing to forge a letter to get Franny out of the country. If SeaFed made the same suggestion to me, I would say, “No thanks, we’re going to do this the LEGAL way;” 4) they thought this was about me not wanting Franny to go to France with them; 5) they were both trying to make me feel bad for being uncooperative after all this.

HOORAY, once again I get to be the crazy uncooperative ex-wife. They will probably get through, because SeaFed is apparently smiled upon by the patron saint of fucking morons.

So, I have had a harrowing couple of days corresponding with my ex-husband. I should know better than to even try to engage with him, especially as I went into things so irritated in the first place, because of Franny’s poor hair. If I go in angry, he throws up a blockade of SJ YOU ARE ALWAYS SO UNREASONABLE. If I go in reasonable, he says “okay” and then does whatever he wants anyway. I wish he would be a wall of “I am not going to move for you,” like I try to be, rather than a bunch of lies and bad rhetoric. I know how to deal with that. But how can you communicate with someone who has trouble keeping their own lies straight? It’s enough to make you want to hear one lie, told well, all the time.

So I am going to dump our last bit of correspondence here, and get irate about it, and then I am not going to have to see that fucktard until Thanksgiving. This is the last bit of energy that I am going to spend on this. Back to jiggly bikini girls, etc, etc.

In my last entry, I posted my email that I sent to him in regards to Franny’s hair. The replies were a lot less illiterate than his usual screeds. The ideas don’t sound quite right either…it doesn’t sound like his usual chain of “logic.” Either college is actually working, or perhaps That Poor Woman is proofing for him.

After my first email:

>I’m more than happy to talk about your concerns with Franny’s hair, >or anything else concerning her life and well being any time you’d >like. What I’m not willing to do is engage with your name calling >and personal insults, it does neither us, nor Franny any
>good. If we are to have any lasting compromises over the years, a >bit of respect would be in order. At the very least, an absence of >hostility.

>Seth

This sounds good on the surface, doesn’t it? Like he actually cares about her and the way we communicate, but I can see through this for what it is, which is a dishonest way of saying “fuck you.” If you communicate with someone like this, you know what I’m talking about. This drives me CRAZY. He always falls back on the very popular “the child, THINK ABOUT THE CHILD” when I have issues with him or something he’s doing to or with her. I don’t really see how me calling his cousin a bridezilla or asking him to think before he does something stupid to our kid via email is affecting Franny. Maybe I’m missing something. At least, I am aware that I am angry. I don’t think he can acknowledge when he is, so I get stupid emails like this.

I reply, and I know I’m pushing water uphill at this point, but I can’t seem to help myself sometimes.

>Seth:

>I have permanently lost respect for you, so sanctimonious >finger-wagging will always be a waste of time.

>I know that I am unlikely to get anything useful back here, but I do
>want to know, in the interest of preventing future pain for F.

> Now, she told me she doesn’t like the color and would rather that >it were still blue. Tell me the truth: if I dye her hair back, will >you take her back to a salon to have chemicals used on her again?

>SJ

Okay, I know I shouldn’t have said “sanctimonious finger-wagging,” but that was what was happening here. A finger was wagged. Sanctimoniously. I needed to call it as I saw it, even though I knew I was doing the equivalent of trying to teach an intoxicated donkey a quadratic equation.

I got a reply! Surprisingly, I SUCK.

>In the future, if you want a useful reply you can cut out the >useless rhetoric. In the interest of resolving this conversation, I >think it is inappropriate for you to keep dying Franny’s hair >ridiculous colors. Of course she wants her hair different colors, >but in my opinion she’s a bit too young to make those decisions. >She needs to appreciate her natural beauty for what it is and learn >to be herself before making all these changes, which she’ll have >plenty of time to do when she gets older. If you’re concerned >about chemicals on Franny’s head, I would suggest not adding any more chemicals yourself and leave her be.

Sweet! I got a lecture! THIS after me dying her hair for the last year and a half we lived together, with nary a peep from Seattle Federline. THIS after we discussed me continuing to dye her hair after I left him, and he said, “I think it’s fine. Thanks for running it by me.” As usual, he misses the point. I was concerned about the fact that the process hurt her, and I was afraid he was going to have it done again. I am taking this final email as evidence that he just might. The dye I use on her is artifical, yes. But the color is deposited via a conditioning base. It is like hair stain over her natural blonde hair and does not burn.

I can’t let this lie, though: “in my opinion she’s a bit too young to make those decisions.” If that’s so, then why did he make the decision to take her to a salon and have her hair done dishwater? I think that sends a nastier message than me dying her hair “ridiculous colors.”

A few people have been encouraging me to redye her hair, and Franny tells me she wants her hair blue again and is dissatisfied with the results of the professional job. I think I hit on a better solution last night. I was telling this story on the annual mom’s cocktail cruise that my friend Supa has, and a friend of hers listened to everything and said, “Sounds like it’s time for a pixie cut.” I think this is the best idea I’ve heard, and at breakfast Frannie was enthusiastic about it. The ugly, fuzzy dishwater hair at the bottom will go away. I will not redye her hair, and if she asks me why I will tell her that it’s because I’m afraid that her dad will take her to a salon again to have her hair bleached.

Aiiight, back to dumb stories about boobs and the myriad ways I accidentally offend people.

SeaFed:

I am saddened to see that you took Franny to a salon to have her hair professionally dyed. She told me that the procedure hurt her and that you had this done at the request of your cousin. I am sorry that bridezillas seem to run in your family but remember you can say no to people, especially as it relates to using painful chemicals on a four-year-old. I am sorry that having Franny appear as a cute accessory is something you value over Franny’s comfort.

Now, she told me she doesn’t like the color and would rather that it were still blue. Tell me the truth: if I dye her hair back, will you take her back to a salon to have chemicals used on her again?

With great disgust,

SJ

This is just so STUPID. I need a lie-down. I am gratified to see it looks better on film than in-person. In person it looks kind of grey.