Oh, Look--A Horse's Ass...
Now that my new phone not only works, but I've (sort of) learned how to use it, I decided I needed to assign a photo to all incoming calls from DB. So yesterday, while at Ben's parents' house for some family function, I propositioned Mabel (his dad's mule) for a photo op. She was more than happy to oblige. And now, whenever DB calls, I can pick up my phone, look at the screen, and say, "oh, look--it's a horse's ass."
Tres appropos.
My first week at the New Job went well, all things considered. I got a phone call from DB first thing Wednesday morning--"your son is being sent home early for bad behavior, you will pick him up at noon from me at the school parking lot." Um, no, at the restraining order hearing, we agreed all drop offs/pick ups not at school would take place at the cop shop. "No, that was just your suggestion, and I never agreed to it, so you'll either be at the school at noon or you just won't get him tonight."
Fuck you.
So I left at 11:30, picked up my unruly kid, dropped him off at home, and went back to work. Then I had to leave at 2:15 so Ben could go interview some football player.
Thursday, they called me at 10:00. I picked him up, and he just looked miserable. But I didn't think it would be the Right Thing To Do to shower him with love, considering he was being tossed out of school for the 2nd day in a row. So I had to play Hardass Mom. "This is not 'Fun Day with Mommy,' you're in trouble, and I have to go back to work, so you're going to work with me. And you're going to sit in a chair right next to me and not move ALL DAY."
And I'll be damned if that's not exactly what he did. I put a chair next to mine (back in the corner--my office still doesn't have furniture, so I'm in the corner like a temp) and told him to "sit" and he did, and barely made a move, until Ben picked him up at 2:45.
I don't think a kid with "the worst case of ADHD I've ever seen" could possibly sit still for 4 hours straight. Take that, Dr. Quack Psychologist.
Friday, his class was going on a field trip, so there was no reason to even take him to school (since he couldn't go due to his behavior). So I drove down to the UMKC parking lot to drop him off to DB. Who made it clear as I handed over the boy, "I just want you to know, I'm not doing this for you."
Whatever, fuckstain. I don't want you doing me any favors, anyway. The price is way too high for my budget.
So Thursday, I tracked down the therapist DB made an appointment with for El Nino's behavioral assessment and evaluation. (The place only agreed to let me talk to her after I informed them I have been awarded primary custody until further notice by the court that issued my restraining order AND I pay for the insurance policy they plan to bill.) I learned that not only did DB tell her he didn't have my address or phone number and had no way to contact me, he also told her I "refused" to bring the boy to any appointments (not true) and, when he learned (from me) I had made an appointment with her, called her and demanded to know how I found out about his appointment (duh fuck, asshole, YOU told me).
The good news is, the man is only making my case for me. He's attempting to build his own case by trying to make it look like, "oh, look, our kid has psychological problems and she doesn't even care," but all he's really doing is making himself look like an asshole. And doing a bang-up job of it, to boot.
Me, I'm just trying to see things in a different light. By the end of last week, I was ready to take two Fuckitols and board the first plane to St. Bart's without leaving a forwarding address. Seriously. It just felt like everything was falling apart. The stress of the whole situation was putting a real strain on Ben and I, it was putting a strain on my interaction with my son, I feared it was putting a strain on my status as a new and promising employee, and I just wanted to say "screw it."
Not that I could ever do that. I love my son more than life, itself. All day Friday, I wandered around my office, and that kid was everywhere. In the kitchen, where I fed us Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza for lunch. In the copy corner, where I made him sit on the floor while I made copies. At my desk, where he'd pull every page off my printer and say "here, Mommy" and hand them to me.
And I love Ben far to much to ever consider leaving him. He's been my rock in all this mess. I honestly don't know how I would have made it this far without him in my corner. I owe him so much.
Saturday we're all going to the Apple Festival in Weston with my parents. The Apple Festival is some big queer outdoor food and crafts fair, but it's a chance to be outside and wandering around eating caramel apples and drinking cider. Plus I haven't seen my parents since the 4th of July.
I called my mom Saturday just to see how things were going. I hadn't talked to her since she called to tell me grandma broke her hip. Apparently, they're planning to send Grandma "home" sometime this week--although she's actually going to go live with Grandpa at the assisted living facility, which I think is horse shit, but it's not my call. I always said my Grandma would live forever so as not to inconvenience anyone with her funeral arrangements, and by golly, I may have been right. I hope so.
My ankles, feet and calves are covered in mosquito bites. And possibly chigger bites, though I'm not entirely convinced I don't have poison ivy, either. Whatever it is, it itches like a motherfucker and I'm about to lose my mind. Ha, what's left of it to lose, that is.
Okay--I guess I'll go humor Ben by joining him on the couch in front of the Chiefs game. At least they're losing. :)
Tres appropos.
My first week at the New Job went well, all things considered. I got a phone call from DB first thing Wednesday morning--"your son is being sent home early for bad behavior, you will pick him up at noon from me at the school parking lot." Um, no, at the restraining order hearing, we agreed all drop offs/pick ups not at school would take place at the cop shop. "No, that was just your suggestion, and I never agreed to it, so you'll either be at the school at noon or you just won't get him tonight."
Fuck you.
So I left at 11:30, picked up my unruly kid, dropped him off at home, and went back to work. Then I had to leave at 2:15 so Ben could go interview some football player.
Thursday, they called me at 10:00. I picked him up, and he just looked miserable. But I didn't think it would be the Right Thing To Do to shower him with love, considering he was being tossed out of school for the 2nd day in a row. So I had to play Hardass Mom. "This is not 'Fun Day with Mommy,' you're in trouble, and I have to go back to work, so you're going to work with me. And you're going to sit in a chair right next to me and not move ALL DAY."
And I'll be damned if that's not exactly what he did. I put a chair next to mine (back in the corner--my office still doesn't have furniture, so I'm in the corner like a temp) and told him to "sit" and he did, and barely made a move, until Ben picked him up at 2:45.
I don't think a kid with "the worst case of ADHD I've ever seen" could possibly sit still for 4 hours straight. Take that, Dr. Quack Psychologist.
Friday, his class was going on a field trip, so there was no reason to even take him to school (since he couldn't go due to his behavior). So I drove down to the UMKC parking lot to drop him off to DB. Who made it clear as I handed over the boy, "I just want you to know, I'm not doing this for you."
Whatever, fuckstain. I don't want you doing me any favors, anyway. The price is way too high for my budget.
So Thursday, I tracked down the therapist DB made an appointment with for El Nino's behavioral assessment and evaluation. (The place only agreed to let me talk to her after I informed them I have been awarded primary custody until further notice by the court that issued my restraining order AND I pay for the insurance policy they plan to bill.) I learned that not only did DB tell her he didn't have my address or phone number and had no way to contact me, he also told her I "refused" to bring the boy to any appointments (not true) and, when he learned (from me) I had made an appointment with her, called her and demanded to know how I found out about his appointment (duh fuck, asshole, YOU told me).
The good news is, the man is only making my case for me. He's attempting to build his own case by trying to make it look like, "oh, look, our kid has psychological problems and she doesn't even care," but all he's really doing is making himself look like an asshole. And doing a bang-up job of it, to boot.
Me, I'm just trying to see things in a different light. By the end of last week, I was ready to take two Fuckitols and board the first plane to St. Bart's without leaving a forwarding address. Seriously. It just felt like everything was falling apart. The stress of the whole situation was putting a real strain on Ben and I, it was putting a strain on my interaction with my son, I feared it was putting a strain on my status as a new and promising employee, and I just wanted to say "screw it."
Not that I could ever do that. I love my son more than life, itself. All day Friday, I wandered around my office, and that kid was everywhere. In the kitchen, where I fed us Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza for lunch. In the copy corner, where I made him sit on the floor while I made copies. At my desk, where he'd pull every page off my printer and say "here, Mommy" and hand them to me.
And I love Ben far to much to ever consider leaving him. He's been my rock in all this mess. I honestly don't know how I would have made it this far without him in my corner. I owe him so much.
Saturday we're all going to the Apple Festival in Weston with my parents. The Apple Festival is some big queer outdoor food and crafts fair, but it's a chance to be outside and wandering around eating caramel apples and drinking cider. Plus I haven't seen my parents since the 4th of July.
I called my mom Saturday just to see how things were going. I hadn't talked to her since she called to tell me grandma broke her hip. Apparently, they're planning to send Grandma "home" sometime this week--although she's actually going to go live with Grandpa at the assisted living facility, which I think is horse shit, but it's not my call. I always said my Grandma would live forever so as not to inconvenience anyone with her funeral arrangements, and by golly, I may have been right. I hope so.
My ankles, feet and calves are covered in mosquito bites. And possibly chigger bites, though I'm not entirely convinced I don't have poison ivy, either. Whatever it is, it itches like a motherfucker and I'm about to lose my mind. Ha, what's left of it to lose, that is.
Okay--I guess I'll go humor Ben by joining him on the couch in front of the Chiefs game. At least they're losing. :)
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:04 PM
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