Is This Heaven?

I went home to Iowa for 3 days and came back re-centered and calm.  I'm two weeks behind in my work but I'm not stressing about it.  I just wish Ms. Ogre could have gotten away, because she's still stressed to the max.  She'll deserve a vacation once budgets are loaded and the annual audit is finished.

I came down with bronchitis and have been told to take Monday off.  I was so excited at first!  Then I realized it's payroll week and I'm...two weeks behind.  I will be working from home for a while Monday.  And I'll keep track so the time isn't taken off my sick days.

I was looking at my calendar and realized that I'll be late to work Tuesday, leaving early Wednesday, late the next Tuesday, leaving early that same day, and...one more.  No wonder I haven't scheduled my mammogram!  (TMI??)  At what point do I get in trouble for the medical appointments that have to be scheduled during the day?  Oh, the last one was my rheumatologist.  How could I forget that one?!

Brain Vomit

After feeling tense and unable to vent my feelings to someone, I suddenly realized, "OH WAIT.  I HAVE A BLOG."  It was a "duh" kind of moment.

So you're going to start seeing some more posts.  The main subject will be problems at work, as a way to document some things that are going on.  Brain Vomit, coming up!

I also wanted to update on Patrick.  He went to a new psychiatrist today, the one that will keep track of his meds.  She was recommended by 4 people, and they were right to recommend her.  She spent an hour and a half with us today and she changed his meds to an extended dose of Ritalin.  Thank goodness!  She said the one he has been on is only a 3 hour dose.  This new one will be eight!  The teacher will be so relieved.  She also noticed slight symptoms of Asperger's so she said we'll keep an eye on it.  I'd heard that before from his therapist, so no worries.  Besides, it's not like he all of a sudden has something.  It's just a new word for him.  Who knew all the talking on and on and on would be low spectrum autism?  Huh.

The short story of work is new boss, new boss's boss to be hired, reduction in the workload due to RA, shuffling of work to even the load for everyone in the office, lack of budget money for extra help next summer, new boss, new boss, and new boss (same one, just lots of issues).

A Sample
This is what will keep me up tonight.  Technically, it IS keeping me up tonight.  I requested Friday, Oct. 4th off around a month ago.  Received permission and then decided not to take the trip.  ...supposedly I let my boss, Ms. Ogre, know that I wouldn't be taking off...  I decided that with all the stress, I should take that trip afterall.  If the bosom of the family can't make it better, nothing will!  But I informed her the 2nd time.  She didn't like that.  And it's fiscal year end, a very bad time to go.  Could I go a different weekend?  Yes, except homecoming is this weekend and I've missed it for 7 years.  She said she almost told me Wednesday that I couldn't go but she knew she'd "hear about it."  Whatever.

I planned ahead and, to make up for taking Friday off, I worked from home on Sunday, 7.1 hours.  I meant to work more the rest of the week in the evenings, but I wasn't feeling good all week.  So the discussion today was that I was informed we're never doing this again at year end.  Even though I reminded her again that I'd worked 7 hours from home on Sunday, Ms. Ogre wouldn't acknowledge it and understand that I'm a day ahead of where I would have otherwise been.  That's what makes me the maddest.  Whenever we have a discussion, she needs to one-up me, and prove to me what she's saying, and refuse to understand what I'm trying to say.  She then repeats it 3 or 4 times so that it starts feeling like an argument.  Did I mention this is her first management job?

Future Brain Vomit entries will discuss the legal definition of my job.  I'm salaried non-exempt which means I'm supposed to be paid overtime.  That's being called into question.  I need to be more like Jane, see?  Isn't she such a good employee for working extra and not getting paid for it?  She'll have some comp time when she wants.  Isn't she such a good girl?  Well, sure, if you want to break the law that way instead since legally you can't pay via comp time.

Oh the Brain Vomit that's coming!

Thanks for listening.  I know people with much bigger problems.  I keep them in my prayers!  (Love ya babe!)

Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Charming

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.

Vacations and Surprises

Patrick was gone for two weeks on his vacation to my parents.  Technically it was supposed to be both my parents and my sister, but my sister had something come up.  And Patrick was at a camp for a few days too.  I've really had some angst about the visits because there aren't any kids on their block and my parents don't really know people who could do play dates.  And my mom is all about unplugging.  I figured Patrick would be bored out of his gourd!

Turns out....I was wrong.

After picking Patrick up from camp, they spent a night at home.  Then they took their camper to a kid friendly camp.  (Dad must have just loved that.)  They had a really good time though.  Patrick got to ride his bike around the campground without fear.  The campground owners gave some kind of rides to the kids too, but Patrick wasn't real clear on that part of the story.

Once home, Grandma took him on the different nature trails in the area to ride bikes.  Grandpa spent time with him in several ways.  Once they spent 45 minutes watching a pile driver out on a country road.  He helped Patrick build an erector set digger, which took a few days.  He played miniature golf.  He allowed Patrick to play with a remote controlled boat, which unfortunately sunk when Patrick tried to launch it with his hand.  Patrick ended up wading pretty far into the pond to get it back out!

I, on the other hand, worked.  I finally let my bosses and co-workers know that I would be giving back some of the work I've taken on in the last few years because I couldn't keep up with the "traditional" job duties.  And that my hands hurt.  A lot.  So my goal is to hand back work that is not mine to do.  Wish me luck, because I'm sitting here typing this and getting ready to do it!  I also went to a movie -- The Heat with Sandra Bullock.  Hilarious!

But I digress.  Back to the vacation part.
I don't recall having fun with my dad.  There's a very real possibility that we miniature golfed.  Once.  I just don't remember.  I remember the work and chores quite clearly.  Handing him tools, baling hay, mucking stalls, picking up sticks.  I probably would've been the kind to enjoy watching a pile driver for 45 minutes.  (I have spent more than that watching cool things with Patrick - like a paver, and the railroad repair equipment.  Now THAT was cool!)

While I wish I had more memories of having fun with my dad, I'm eternally grateful Patrick has had those experiences with him.  My parents are in their 70's and the whole family is thinking there may not be too many more years like this one. 

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! 

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.