Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Visitation Avoider

When the ex and I first split up, we had a temporary visitation schedule.  It was the standard one, where the non-custodial parent gets Patrick every other weekend plus every Wednesday. (I think every Wednesday.  Maybe every other?)

Patrick was one year old.  Mr. VA couldn't handle it.  I started keeping track of his lack of ability to take the kid, even long enough to do my shopping!  He'd forget or cancel for various reasons, including his daughter this or his girlfriend that or his work the other.

We kept the same schedule for the divorce decree.  It wasn't much better afterwards, but at least it was only for a few months.

Due to reasons I can't yet go into, visitation was curtailed by the courts.  Mr. VA was allowed one hour, supervised visits only.  Thankfully our town has an official visitation center.  Michael would meet me when I came in the front door, and he'd use his keycard to take Patrick to a room where Mr. VA was waiting.  Mr. VA had to come in a back door and not have any contact with me, or with Patrick outside of the room.  (Although a few times we saw each other outside.  He couldn't seem to remember to park in the back of the building!)

Visits went well.  I was hating Mr. VA at the time, so I didn't like hearing Patrick laughing.  But it was ok because Michael was watching and taking notes for the judge.
Eventually the judge handed down his decision and there was no more visitation.  The last time Mr. VA saw Patrick in person was when Patrick was three.  It's been six years now.

It's hard for Patrick because he doesn't have a dad.  He doesn't do Father's Day.  He can't go play catch with his dad.  He sees other kids with their dad.  He hears talk about the dads.

Patrick eventually started thinking that his dad hates him.  His dad doesn't "want" to see him.  I started thinking maybe I'd let them talk on the phone.  It seemed relatively harmless and I would be supervising.  It made me Mad As HeII though.  Patrick's therapist was ok with it.  So they started talking.

I allowed Sunday evenings only.  But Mr. VA can't keep to that.  And he keeps calling after he knows Patrick is in bed.  And then he'll text to ask when he can talk again.  Seriously?  I said Sunday evenings!

Eventually Patrick realized he didn't know where his dad lived and didn't know what he looked like.  And eventually the therapist suggested Skype.

That's borderline against the judge's order.  The phone was bad enough.  Skype?!  Fine. ok.

Mr. VA enjoys seeing his son.  Patrick enjoys seeing his dad.  I hate the whole deal.  And someday, probably in the next year, Patrick will be asking to go see his dad.

Per the judge.  Not until he's 17.

War and Peace

The War

I've decided to write this particular post as a therapy for my anger.  I'm just steaming right now.  I'm trying to remember the good stuff, and I will, but I'm reveling in the anger.

Patrick is in piano lessons.  He missed class just about 2 weeks ago and they started a new song.  Because he wasn't there for instruction, he doesn't know about the high-A (high-La).  I explained it last night but he insisted that it was middle C (middle-Doh).  Tonight he was arguing that it was high G (high-So), even though I showed him the progression, right there in black and white, to La.  Nope.  It's So.

I gave up and went to one of the songs we've been doing for about 3 weeks.  With enough practice, he'd be with the rest of the class on this.  We've been remiss in practicing because time just flies by.  With the amount of time it takes for school homework and the time it takes him to eat, I feel that the kid should have at least half an hour of free time a night!  But I digress!

The Dinosaur is a song he really got into, probably because it's in A Minor.  And it's about a dinosaur.  But he wasn't with the class when they started practicing the right hand, which includes eighth rests with eighth notes.  And he stumbled with it because it's new.  In my attempts to get him to sing the notes etc, he got mad.  He was leaning on the keyboard, which wobbles because he already weakened the stand by placing his feet on it.  And when I told him to stop, we got into a discussion about how upset I'd be if he broke a $350 keyboard.  He asked how much the stand was and I said it was probably $40.  He sneered at that and said it was a piece of crap.

I quit.  Go to bed.  I'm done with you for the day. 

It's all about the attitude.  The disrespect he's been showing everybody.  The problems he'll be facing in 4th grade if he keeps this up.

<breathe deep>

The Peace

The other day when we got to the YMCA for his before-school care, he was putting on his backpack when a little old lady was behind him.  I was going to chastise him, but he wasn't that close to hitting her, so I let it lie.  He pushed the button to open the automatic doors, then he moved over to open and hold the other door for the little old lady.  Then he did it again for the second set. 

I was so proud!

The Conclusion

I guess there's some hope for him.  I think instead of doing a swear jar (that includes the sarcastic terms "really" and "seriously"), maybe we should do a disrespect jar. At least then I'd feel like I wasn't on the losing end!