This post might be more dangerous than any other. Why, you ask? Well, because a long time ago, someone told me I'm still in love with the Ex. WHAT?!
Mr. Charming. Many people can see the intelligence and charm right away. Eventually the jerk can be seen, but until then, Mr. C is IN. Don't get me wrong. Mr. C will not win me back. But, oh, how I miss the intellectual conversations!
I just texted back and forth with Mr. C for about half an hour. About phone carriers. Cell phones. POT PIES. Now I find myself wanting to send him the recipe for my pot pies, which Patrick says is the best thing he's ever eaten. I know if I sent it I'd ask him to tell me how to spice it right, because that's my weakness in recipes. The running joke in our marriage was that Mr. C could take cat food and sawdust and make a gourmet meal. There were so many times when I'd look in the cupboards and couldn't find anything to make, and Mr. C would walk in there and whip something up that was DE-LISH.
Honestly, though, the root of his problems is sex. Call it sex addiction if you'd like (I don't, he does), but if he just kept him thing in his pants, things would have been better. Mr. Charming.
Still a jerk.
Showing posts with label The Ex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Ex. Show all posts
Monday, July 15, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Deadbeat Dad
When I was married, Mr. DBD counted on me to get money to his other ex for his daughter's child support. When we separated, his other ex was out of luck. Me too though.
I live in a county that requires non-custodial parents to have their child support garnished from their wages. I also was smart enough in the divorce to garnish some other fees, like reimbursement for health insurance. Normally my state would require the non-custodial parent to carry the health insurance for the child, but since Mr. DBD job hops so much, I decided to carry it myself.
Job hops? Since we met 17 years ago, there's only been one job that lasted more than a year. Normally he thinks the "grass is always greener." He may have the charisma to get a job easily, but lately he's had a hard time getting a job. That part of the story will wait a bit longer. Suffice it to say, garnishing child support in a case like this is tough.
Mr. DBD would hide the fact that he had a job. Eventually the state or I would find out and send paperwork. By then, most times he'd be gone, on to greener pastures.
Mr. DBD moved out the week of Patrick's first birthday. There was a two or three month period where he was working some kind of construction and was paid "under the table." It was good money and I got quite a bit of child support. Unfortunately, someone found out he wasn't qualified for the job and didn't have the proper certification. So no more support.
I was working three jobs and paid $800 a month for child care. Every cent meant the world to me.
I went about three years with maybe two payments. It was brutal. But I made it. I have a certain amount of pride for that!
Some may ask why I didn't throw him in jail. Well, he couldn't get a job if he was in jail. This state will also take away the driver's license, but then he couldn't drive to a job. I need the money, not the satisfaction of putting him behind bars. (I could dream though!)
And then the sky fell, the bell tolled, and the fat lady sang.
No more child support for a while. He's indisposed for 8-12 months. Yes, that's for a future post. I'm not ready for that yet.
So fast forward to last November. I got a payment! Then another. And another....and I'm still getting payments twice a month. And I SO need it. I know it'll end so I'm not counting on it much longer.
It's been about four years since I took Mr. DBD to court for some other issues. Mostly I was trying to get permission to move out of state, but I also requested permission to change Patrick's last name to mine. In return, I offered to write off $20,000 of back support. I was willing to deal. I only asked to change Patrick's last name so I could give it up. It's not like I really wanted to change it. But Mr. DBD signed the paperwork with nary a word or a squeal.
Twenty thousand dollars
In three years, he'd built up that kind of a balance. And since then it's back up to about that level I think.
But at least he's paying. For now.
I live in a county that requires non-custodial parents to have their child support garnished from their wages. I also was smart enough in the divorce to garnish some other fees, like reimbursement for health insurance. Normally my state would require the non-custodial parent to carry the health insurance for the child, but since Mr. DBD job hops so much, I decided to carry it myself.
Job hops? Since we met 17 years ago, there's only been one job that lasted more than a year. Normally he thinks the "grass is always greener." He may have the charisma to get a job easily, but lately he's had a hard time getting a job. That part of the story will wait a bit longer. Suffice it to say, garnishing child support in a case like this is tough.
Mr. DBD would hide the fact that he had a job. Eventually the state or I would find out and send paperwork. By then, most times he'd be gone, on to greener pastures.
Mr. DBD moved out the week of Patrick's first birthday. There was a two or three month period where he was working some kind of construction and was paid "under the table." It was good money and I got quite a bit of child support. Unfortunately, someone found out he wasn't qualified for the job and didn't have the proper certification. So no more support.
I was working three jobs and paid $800 a month for child care. Every cent meant the world to me.
I went about three years with maybe two payments. It was brutal. But I made it. I have a certain amount of pride for that!
Some may ask why I didn't throw him in jail. Well, he couldn't get a job if he was in jail. This state will also take away the driver's license, but then he couldn't drive to a job. I need the money, not the satisfaction of putting him behind bars. (I could dream though!)
And then the sky fell, the bell tolled, and the fat lady sang.
No more child support for a while. He's indisposed for 8-12 months. Yes, that's for a future post. I'm not ready for that yet.
So fast forward to last November. I got a payment! Then another. And another....and I'm still getting payments twice a month. And I SO need it. I know it'll end so I'm not counting on it much longer.
It's been about four years since I took Mr. DBD to court for some other issues. Mostly I was trying to get permission to move out of state, but I also requested permission to change Patrick's last name to mine. In return, I offered to write off $20,000 of back support. I was willing to deal. I only asked to change Patrick's last name so I could give it up. It's not like I really wanted to change it. But Mr. DBD signed the paperwork with nary a word or a squeal.
Twenty thousand dollars
In three years, he'd built up that kind of a balance. And since then it's back up to about that level I think.
But at least he's paying. For now.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Control Freak
Since I'm still new to blogging, I'm hoping I don't get flagged if I use some potentially harsh language in reference to my ex-husband. He brings out the anger in me. I didn't used to be like that. Even the guy I dated who broke a kitten's back didn't affect me like this other guy.
Mr. Control Freak has issues. I won't get into them now, except for the name for this post. I remember towards the end of our marriage, I'd have to sneak peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Mr. CF thinks PB&Js are bad because it's all sugar. I tend to disagree. There is actual nutrition in peanut butter. And who's to say I don't use sugar-free jelly?!
Back in the days of marriage, I made myself a sandwich one evening,and he harped on me so much I just finally threw it away. It got so bad I'd sneak them when he was at work. I know it was around the time Patrick was born because I told my OB-GYN about it, and she got mad and asked if I wanted a prescription! She was great.
Once we divorced, for reasons not currently discussed, there was no contact with Mr. CF and Patrick for a good four years. Patrick became old enough to realize he didn't have a dad and people don't normally think of things like that around kids. They'll talk about doing something with Mom and Dad, or make a Father's Day card for Dad, and it was salt in a new wound. Patrick's therapist suggested eventually that maybe they could talk on the phone. I was leery but I did it for Patrick's benefit.
I laid some ground rules. Easy ones. Talk once a week. He's not to get to know Mr. CF's girlfriends. No discussing what Patrick eats. I had to add that last one when the PB&J issue came up and he started in on Patrick like he used to do to me.
But, again, Mr. CF asked tonight what was for supper. He should be able to remember by now. Besides, Mr. CF never asks when I slave away for an hour cooking a good homemade meal to eat it all in 7.2 minutes! It's only when we've had the lazy meal. Seriously. Stop asking.
It also puts Patrick in a bad spot because he knows it's a rule and his dad is breaking it. And he knows I get angry. He starts being all subdued like HE'S the one in trouble. And then I get to deal with any fallout.
There's no conclusion to this problem. I just want Mr. CF to go away and not bother my kid. 'Cause if he dont, Mama Bear gonna come out!
Mr. Control Freak has issues. I won't get into them now, except for the name for this post. I remember towards the end of our marriage, I'd have to sneak peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Mr. CF thinks PB&Js are bad because it's all sugar. I tend to disagree. There is actual nutrition in peanut butter. And who's to say I don't use sugar-free jelly?!
Back in the days of marriage, I made myself a sandwich one evening,and he harped on me so much I just finally threw it away. It got so bad I'd sneak them when he was at work. I know it was around the time Patrick was born because I told my OB-GYN about it, and she got mad and asked if I wanted a prescription! She was great.
Once we divorced, for reasons not currently discussed, there was no contact with Mr. CF and Patrick for a good four years. Patrick became old enough to realize he didn't have a dad and people don't normally think of things like that around kids. They'll talk about doing something with Mom and Dad, or make a Father's Day card for Dad, and it was salt in a new wound. Patrick's therapist suggested eventually that maybe they could talk on the phone. I was leery but I did it for Patrick's benefit.
I laid some ground rules. Easy ones. Talk once a week. He's not to get to know Mr. CF's girlfriends. No discussing what Patrick eats. I had to add that last one when the PB&J issue came up and he started in on Patrick like he used to do to me.
But, again, Mr. CF asked tonight what was for supper. He should be able to remember by now. Besides, Mr. CF never asks when I slave away for an hour cooking a good homemade meal to eat it all in 7.2 minutes! It's only when we've had the lazy meal. Seriously. Stop asking.
It also puts Patrick in a bad spot because he knows it's a rule and his dad is breaking it. And he knows I get angry. He starts being all subdued like HE'S the one in trouble. And then I get to deal with any fallout.
There's no conclusion to this problem. I just want Mr. CF to go away and not bother my kid. 'Cause if he dont, Mama Bear gonna come out!
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Naming a Blog
I'm going to claim that I'm a Lazy Single Mom. That means I don't have to type as much. And it's a good excuse for having a house that's, well, decorated by Chaos. In reality, though, I hate cleaning, I don't get motivated to clean unless there's company, and I am a Big Baby when my Rheumatoid Arthritis is acting up. And when it's not. I may actually be lazy too I guess! LOL
The name of the blog is also indicative of my status as a mom. Technically, Patrick was 2 when I got divorced. But from the time he was born I was essentially a single mom. I had to take care of the baby before I left for work and make sure he was napping before I could leave, so that the husband working 2nd shift could sleep. Then I'd come home at lunch and feed the baby. Then I'd rush home after work and take care of the baby while the husband was at work. So when the husband moved out the week of Patrick's 1st birthday, I didn't really notice.
Now that the background is covered a bit, the RA part of me is screaming to stop typing. So here goes! My first blog post!
See you when my lazy self posts again.
Thanks for reading,
Lazy Single Mom
The name of the blog is also indicative of my status as a mom. Technically, Patrick was 2 when I got divorced. But from the time he was born I was essentially a single mom. I had to take care of the baby before I left for work and make sure he was napping before I could leave, so that the husband working 2nd shift could sleep. Then I'd come home at lunch and feed the baby. Then I'd rush home after work and take care of the baby while the husband was at work. So when the husband moved out the week of Patrick's 1st birthday, I didn't really notice.
Now that the background is covered a bit, the RA part of me is screaming to stop typing. So here goes! My first blog post!
See you when my lazy self posts again.
Thanks for reading,
Lazy Single Mom
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