In the dairy aisle, at that time in the a.m. when it is all nice little old ladies, con brio: “BLOODY HELL, MOTHER!” Tooo much Buffy and Spike. The blue heads swiveled. I wished I was dead. Franny wished she was dead. And we laughed.
At the Nordic Hertitage Museum
At sushi, with chopsticks and a miso spoon [nonchalantly]: “I’m unforkened!”
Soup!
At the antique store, confidently: “This typewriter’s broken.”
“How can you tell?”
“There’s no screen.”
Tryyy the motherfucking veeeeal people!
En Roy Dotrice Nouvelles
Franny is gone for one week each to Colorado and the San Juans with her father. She has a bad attitude about it in the way of eleven-year-olds who are not being allowed to sit around unbathed, reading comic books in their pajamas. He took her one day early and it was a FEDERAL CASE to even arrange that.
He emailed me the day before to tell me to remind Franny to loot a bunch of clothes and stuff from my house since she doesn’t have enough for a week’s vacation. Of course I paraphrase, but I tell you it was not an ask. Which, you know, I am still smarting a little over that whole being sued thing last fall. I don’t really think paying a small amount of child support makes this the Bank of Franny Clothes, especially since she tells stories about our clothes being absorbed into hand-me-down boxes for his other children. TAKE AN HOUR OUT OF YOUR FAPPERY-FILLED DAY AND GO TO GOODWILL FFS. Am I off base here?
This is all just so SIGH. Picture me, waiting outside of the girls’ school last September, on a sunny fall day waiting for Strudel, and knowing that he is about to pick up Franny. I expected him to be in his car, but up he strolls, knowing that we have been exchanging nasty emails all summer, with his threats getting cranked up up up post-child support all the time until I knew he was about to sue me. Like, as I was standing there I was expecting summons that week.
“How’s it going?” he said, GLIBLY, as he walked up. UM I’M ABOUT TO GET SUED BITCH is how it’s going. P.S., by you. I don’t feel like chitty chatting.
I get tired of this push push pull, you know? But I cannot stand that car dealer mentality (I know, insulting to car dealers) where I am being pecked for everything on the off chance I might say yes, or maybe he thinks it’s legit? I cannot tell anymore.
Do you get locked into eternal combat with something or someone and then imagine yourself letting go? I let go of a lot of things–with other people, with work, with my girls. It’s better to give when you can. What do you do when you cannot give that one person anything, because you know you will never get anything in return and it won’t benefit your kid to boot and you are just empty? I cannot imagine what letting go looks like. I feel that this is a major personal flaw right now. I have sensible talks with myself about being mature and flexible and then I just imagine myself bending over and taking it up the butt with a bowling pin the size of the Eiffel Tower (try to sleep tonight now, I defy you).
I’d like to think that when the ink is dry on the parenting plan, which is coming, SOON, like it or not, I can let a lot of this go. I sure it’s been a long year reading all this blibber blubber about court, but I think I’m in the home stretch now. Then it’s the fun part–I’ve saved every bill and I’m going to add it up. ALL OF IT. It’s going to hoit. How’s that for an x-ray into Changing a Parenting Plan for Dummies, and We Do Mean That You Are a Dummy. And probably like a recap about what I did right and wrong.
The bummer part is that every situation is different and walking into a court room is a coin flip, but I tell you I would do it all again. There’s also some stuff I have to keep under my hat til the paperwork’s signed, and then…oh yes.
And then I am on to other things!
I certainly have not mastered the art of Zen when it comes to The Other Parent, but eventually I did kind of find an acceptable place where I was able to just block out the FAIRNESS ZOMG factor and just say to myself, “What does my kid need here?” So then if something wasn’t being supplied that should’ve been, instead of getting pissed about it, I just did the trip to Goodwill myself or whatever and told myself that I could obsess or take care of it, but not both. And taking care of it meant I could let it go.
Takes a lot of practice (still) but sometimes it reduces the overall stress.
Here’s hoping Franny’s trip goes okay. Wishing strength for you both.
The issues that come up between thee and SeaFed make me think of good ol’ Al-Anon. It’s not a bad program, if I may say so. It seems like you’d find a lot of like-minded people like yourself there. It does help to reach that SERENITY NOW that is so elusive in the push push pull moments of life. I feel you on that. Anyway. I know you don’t blog here to get unwanted advice from your faithful followers. However, it occurred to me that maybe you’d like to know that there is a lot of good material in their program that might be helpful. :) Having said that — you handling your business like a boss! And I commend you for it.
Oh, also, I mis-read your title as “DON’T GIVE UP!” and I was all heartened by that. Upon further reading I see that it says the opposite. I do feel like giving up on this project I’ve been on since February. Damn it. The AD on the project is KILLING ME. We’re just 3 weeks from finalizing this thing so I can’t quit now….. This is where all my training of growing up is kicking in and working against me. “Quit! No one cares anyway.” OK!
Well, I, for one, don’t mind the blibber blubber at all. I wait with bated breath for the final final when all is revealed. Stay gold, mama. As you sow, so shall you reap. Also, Franny knows whats up, and she always will.
Dorrie, it’s funny to go back and read (for me, not recommending it) and seeing that court stuff has been the main topic really since March 2011! It made me feel a little one track mindy. I do think of other things when I am not writing here. :)
Krumpy: thanks for the rec. I think “serenity” will come eventually, to some extent. I had a dream the other night that he and I were having a conversation without my chest feeling like it was going to collapse, which I think is an indication that I feel more powerful lately.
Mir: That is really, really fantastic advice. Goodwill would be good middle ground since she would have clothes there and I would not feel like I was missing clothes. And I see how this can be applied to the bigger picture. I don’t count every item, I would be insane. I buy double of almost everything like coats, shoes, etc, since I don’t have to worry about her being covered of stuff disappearing.
When the kids used to go to the ex’s house it was ASSumed that I provided everything they needed, clothing, medicine, etc., which meant I got to pack and unpack and then wash a pile of dirty clothes. I think the Goodwill idea is spot on. I wish I had been smart enough to have thought of that for myself at the time.
You can always console yourself (as I did) with the thought that this will not last forever. At some point Franny will be a teen and probably refuse to go (as my youngest did) or she will turn 18 and ye both shall be set free. Until then, it just kind of sucks.