Update: My life continues to be a struggle not to dance around while shouting WHAT UP WITH THAT.
But first, I want to be serious for a minute and issue an apology to everyone I didn’t write to for letter writing month. Here is what happened: I got wrung out last fall, started a new work contract in January and thought for February I would try something different. Can you just put walnut catsup into an empty gas tank and expect it to go? No, you cannot. February was useful in that it really made me confront the fact that I had about zero creative outputs left in me. I choked on writing a really gnarly letter and just fell off everything for a while. Not much reading, not much writing, no drawing, not even shopping cock n balls onto selected foreheads with purchase. So I am sorry I did not write to you! Please know that your addresses have been shredded in triplicate.
Secondly, what is happening in legal land? ONLY EVERYTHING. This transparency I promised is paying off, albeit slowly. Welcome to my nightmare. I may have mentioned previously that I have a trial date in October, which is the drop dead date, the parenting plan gets decided. In the meantime, theoretically, we are settling. Not much is happening, at least not quickly. I’m working on the parenting plan with my lawyer now. Things were not progressing fast enough for SeaFed, who demanded to see my draft of the parenting plan and refused to sign some standard court-required progress paperwork, which, yeah. That’s a bargaining chip. Oh WAIT NO, that’s a possible non-compliance hearing.
There was a surprise side order of stupid when he did not check the temporary parenting plan and booked over my vacation and refused to change anything until I made a formal request to ask…for…my…time? Don’t bogart the tail pipe, man. I sent the kid over with charts of what made sense for summer (basically trading time since he had taken a bunch of mine). Every time I wrestle with this fucking proverbial pig I get muddy but sometimes it works out and I get mud and a happy kid, at least, who is glad not to be spending seven accidental weeks there. I returned her call after she left me a message saying her father had conceded finally.
“MOM summer is working out!”
“So, are you happy?” I said.
“YES.”
I like this outcome because I am hoping she feels like pitching sense to her dad actually gained her some ground for once, even though I’m sure it was my last email to him with my lawyer cc’ed on it. I have her back.
The next thing is awakening the kraken guardian ad litem. I have a hundred-question intake form to fill out this weekend. ABOUT THINGS THAT HAPPENED TEN YEARS AGO. FFFFfffuck I think I was a unicorn then.
Hugs, my friend.
Those ASCII peens are pretty sweet. I didn’t think I could love anything as much as Letterbutt up there, but time makes fools of us all.
So you printed out that Tweet I sent and shredded it three times? DAMN, WOMAN.
Happy to hear the pig-wrestling worked out this round. Hope this is just the beginning of good things for you.
What a dickshit. Glad you’re hammering things out and that, as usual, you have your kid’s back and she knows it.
UGH legal woes constantly for you. You are SUCH an amazing mama.
It’s almost over until she’s like, 18, unless something weird happens. Which, please Zod let nothing else weird happen. I just want to document it.
Blarg, SeaFed is such a drama queen. It seems like he can’t function properly unless he is making you miserable. :( But on a good note, I can now enjoy the mental image of you dancing around singing WHAT UP WITH THAT. And at least it leaves one of us smiling.
God almighty fucknuggets, what a douchecanoe SeaFed is. When this is all over and you have WON THE LAST VICTORY, I think you should perform about a jillion David Lee Roth highkicks, and then go somewhere for a day and get blotto. But with no cameras around.
That sounds nice in the short term. My long term carrot, besides sanity, is to book a vacation!