Thanks For Ruining Another Fucking Weekend, DB
I dropped Bob off last night, and then drove to Super Target, where I bought groceries while willing myself not to puke in my cart. I finally got home around 8pm, and checked my email.
In a typically chicken-shit move, db had emailed me at 4:50pm (10 minutes before I would have left work), stating he was "not asking (my) permission" and would not "respond to (my) phone calls or emails" in response, but he was simply emailing to let me know that, since there is no school Monday, he would not be returning Bob to me until 6pm Monday evening, as opposed to Sunday, as stated in the order.
I. Flipped. The. Fuck. Out.
I called and left him a voicemail that, unless he calls me before tomorrow evening to assure me he will be at the designated place at the designated time with the designated child, I will drive to St. Clair County, go to the sheriff's station, and ask them to go fetch my child. I then left a message for My Fearless (and Useless) Lawyer and the ad litem.
Now that I think about it, I probably will not drive to BFE to retrieve my child after all. There are too many unknows. I don't know if, in fact, db and Bob will be at the house, if indeed I can remember where it is. I don't know if the sheriff's deputies will even bother with a civil matter. I don't know how such a scene would affect Bob. And causing him even more drama isn't really worth it.
So I'll forget about the fact I made plans with Bob for the zoo Monday. I'll give up the day off I've been planning to spend with my son for the past month. I'll go to work and try not to think about how db does whatever the fuck he wants, and hope that the people I've spent a good 20 thousand fucking dollars on for their legal expertise will do their jobs and make sure this little stunt fucks with db's world as much as he's been fucking with mine.
In a typically chicken-shit move, db had emailed me at 4:50pm (10 minutes before I would have left work), stating he was "not asking (my) permission" and would not "respond to (my) phone calls or emails" in response, but he was simply emailing to let me know that, since there is no school Monday, he would not be returning Bob to me until 6pm Monday evening, as opposed to Sunday, as stated in the order.
I. Flipped. The. Fuck. Out.
I called and left him a voicemail that, unless he calls me before tomorrow evening to assure me he will be at the designated place at the designated time with the designated child, I will drive to St. Clair County, go to the sheriff's station, and ask them to go fetch my child. I then left a message for My Fearless (and Useless) Lawyer and the ad litem.
Now that I think about it, I probably will not drive to BFE to retrieve my child after all. There are too many unknows. I don't know if, in fact, db and Bob will be at the house, if indeed I can remember where it is. I don't know if the sheriff's deputies will even bother with a civil matter. I don't know how such a scene would affect Bob. And causing him even more drama isn't really worth it.
So I'll forget about the fact I made plans with Bob for the zoo Monday. I'll give up the day off I've been planning to spend with my son for the past month. I'll go to work and try not to think about how db does whatever the fuck he wants, and hope that the people I've spent a good 20 thousand fucking dollars on for their legal expertise will do their jobs and make sure this little stunt fucks with db's world as much as he's been fucking with mine.
posted by Mitzi Green at 3:38 PM
1 Comments:
Mitzi ... You are such a great mom, you do what I do/did ... react and then realize it's not in Bob's best interest to react while db pushes the buttons he knows so well. Just document this bullshit he pulls. You know the drill, print the email, document your voice mail, document your change of heart as to WHY you decided against sending out the sheriff and driving up there yourself. What a typical piece of shit move he pulled on you and I'm so sorry you have to go through this. I think I've said this before, but my father's lawyer told my father to tell me (when I was going through my ordeal) that the faintest pencil is mightier than the sharpest memory. Be well!
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