Fly High, Baby Girl

Yet another milestone has come and gone. My baby girl has graduated. She will be studying for the NKLEX and once she passes that she is officially an R.N. and will begin her job at the hospital. She is officially all grown up.

I remember the days before she started kindergarten. I don’t know where I came across these articles but they were written by parents sending their kids off to college. Again, mine was starting kindergarten. Didn’t matter. I was bawling as I read these articles, thinking about how difficult it was going to be to send my baby away and not see her every day. Somehow I reeled myself back in and was able to go to Back To School Night, meet the teacher, and when the day came, walk my daughter across the street to the bus stop and wave goodbye to her as she climbed on the bus and rode off to school. Naturally, I followed behind and took pictures of her in her classroom on that first day.

Then came the transition to middle school. I don’t know why this one scared me so much. I suppose I envisioned my sweet little girl being surrounded by all these big kids. I still don’t know what it was because looking back it was so stupid. I suppose maybe it was simply change. She was moving on from elementary school to middle school. She was growing up and wasn’t my little girl anymore. She was my big girl with a locker and everything.

Next was high school. I think I was better able to handle that one than middle school. But I do remember the senior class President telling the kids that their four years would fly by and that their years at TA would be some of the best of their life. I’m sure that would have been true had she been able to continue on there.

Nonetheless, those four years did pass by. Sometimes I think it was a blink of the eye and other times I remember all the turmoil, the tears, the fears, and the uncertainty. Whatever it was the day finally came that my daughter graduated. That day I had warned Jerry Lee about back on her first birthday was finally here. I was soon going to be one of those parents I had read about way back when she was five years old and starting kindergarten.

And now here we are once again. Four and a half years later and she has graduated from college.

In some ways it seems like only yesterday that I was going shopping with her so she could decorate her dorm room. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was helping her pack up the car and dropping my heart off at Ball State. I did such a great job that day. No tears. Kept telling myself I had done my job and it was her time to fly.

In other ways it was a very long four and a half years. Life gets very dicey when your ex opts to modify support on a whim. Her freshman year was one such time and I truly was not sure I was going to be able to help her at all the following year. I had been so proud of myself for being able to pay the remainder of her tuition and give her some spending money. Then Jerry Lee announces he’s lost his job again and everything was up in the air. She ended up taking out loans to cover it all but ended up not calculating correctly. Thankfully Jerry Lee began paying again even at his modified amount so when rent came up short I could help her out. Junior year I paid her rent while her loans covered her tuition and the last three semesters I paid the remainder of her tuition.

Now it’s all over. She’s done.

I began writing this blog in 2016. It’s been almost 7 years. All these years I referred to my daughter as Rock Star because that is what she is. She is brilliant, beautiful, fierce, determined, driven, funny, kind-hearted, fearless, and completely amazing. She has a name.

A couple years ago I had a reader who mentioned something about how I had to write this anonymously. I don’t really remember the context behind it and I’m not going to look right now. But I always remembered that. I didn’t keep it anonymous because I was ashamed or afraid. I suppose I did it because it felt safer when so many other things didn’t feel safe at all. 

I told her this weekend I would probably write about her graduation and asked her if she was okay with me disclosing her name. She is. I’d like to introduce my lovely daughter, one of the newest nurses out there, Miss Shelby Lynne. She is awesome. I would say you would be lucky if you ever get her as your nurse but she’s going to be working in the ICU so that’s kind of a double edged sword. On one hand you’d be lucky because she’s awesome and really advocates for her patients. On the other hand you’re in the ICU and that can never be good. I guess if you’re critical you’d be really fortunate to have her as your nurse. How’s that?

Fly high, my darling daughter! The world is your oyster.

Mommy Me Time

I am always amazed when people ask some variation of the question, “How can I enforce my ex takes visitation with our children?”

The short answer is you can’t. No judge is going to declare that the non-custodial parent MUST take their visitation. They only thing that MUST happen is that the custodial parent MUST have the child available for visitation.

Should you document when they don’t take their time? Well, of course.

Sam, are you telling me there is absolutely nothing that can be done when my ex won’t take the kids?

No, you can document the fact that the ex never takes their visitation, and then based off of that you can go back to court if you’re so inclined and a) attempt to get custody changed so that it matches on paper what you actually have, and b) have child support recalculated based upon the fact that you have the kids 90-100% of the time.

What really amazes me though are the ones that want to know if they can not only force the ex to take their visitation but also if they can make them pay for a babysitter if they don’t.

This question was posed not that long ago. Ex works out of town. Takes a new job in town and has the kids every other weekend. Ex finds out that working in town doesn’t make as much money as working out of town and he is behind on child support. So…. ex is back to working out of town, which means he is no longer taking the kids every other weekend. This is unfortunate because Mom has discovered she really likes her child free weekends. Mom wants to know if she can take him back to court to enforce visitation and if that isn’t a possibility then she’s wondering if she can have it ordered that he must pay for a babysitter on the weekends he’s supposed to have the kids. Or should she suck it up and just pay for a babysitter from the child support she receives?

Am I the only one that thinks this is lunacy, or am I simply a chump who continues to let people walk all over me? I can’t wrap my head around this.

We’ve already discussed the fact that visitation is only enforced one way. A parent cannot withhold visitation but the other parent does not have to take the visitation. If your ex insisted on 50/50 and now that they have it they only take 10% of it, sure, go back to court. Get custody changed. Get child support if you weren’t getting it based on the 50/50 arrangement, or get more if it was a low amount because of the 50/50 arrangement. But you can’t withhold the visitation, and you can’t make the other parent take it either. Period. This is the part where I tell you to suck it up, buttercup.

Who in the hell lied to you and told you that motherhood came with a vacation package? Did you get every other weekend off when you were married? Like, did your spouse take the child and you were able to just go and do whatever you wanted? Every. Other. Weekend? Did your spouse help out so much that you felt like you didn’t need a break? Or, is it more likely that you took care of everything when you were married and you didn’t blink an eye? Because, again, motherhood is not exactly known for its generous vacation time. But now that you’re divorced you think you should be entitled to have every other weekend free? And if that’s not a possibility then the ex should have to pay for a babysitter for you? Mind blown.

I am that parent that did 95% of it on my own when I was married! I did not have child free weekends every other week. I can probably count on one hand how many times I went away without my children. It would definitely not be more than 2 hands.

Sure, I knew people who got lots of breaks. My brother and his wife had a friend whose parents took her son every weekend. My mom took my brother’s kids for an entire month every summer. Jezebel didn’t spend more than 48 hours in a row with her kids. So I know it happens that some people luck out. I was not one of them. I was with my kids pretty much 24/7 and if I didn’t have them with me then I was the one arranging childcare for them.

And now as a divorced mom? I realize my kids were older when I separated and divorced but Jerry Lee has had them exactly 0 minutes since the day he walked out the door back in February of 2016. Yes, minutes. That’s not a typo. I didn’t mean to type days or weeks, or even hours. He’s had them 0 minutes.

Yes, they were older- 13 and 15- but Rock Star didn’t drive for the first 2 years of our separation, thanks to us having to move. I was still having to run her around. When she got a job I added that on to her regular rotation. Then I was working and running around for kids. Super fun! And also doing all the other parent type things- like going to open houses, buying school supplies, getting registered for new schools, throwing graduation parties, making doctor’s appointments and therapy appointments, etc. All by myself. No dad around to help. No babysitting allowance. 70/30 split on the medical. That was the extent of my additional help from Jerry Lee.

I’ve had help from my mom, yes. I’ve left for a weekend. Yep. My kids are older. I can do that. My brother steps in for my son on occasion and I appreciate that very much. He is able to get through to him in ways I can’t.

This is part of the reason I’m so passionate about building your own support system and not relying on the lying, cheating fuckwit. They tend to let you down a lot. If you can’t rely on family then reach out and build some friendships.

As for thinking you’re going to get a judge to order the non-custodial parent to pay for a babysitter because you want to go out? Good luck with that. Hell, who knows? Maybe it’ll fly. I doubt it but what have you got to lose aside from a few thousand dollars when you go back to court? I’m not saying a parent doesn’t need or doesn’t deserve some time to themselves. Of course, they do. But reality is a bitch. Instead of wasting your time and money going back to court to try to force the other parent to cover your babysitting bills so you can have a night on the town just use the damn child support and pay a babysitter.

Remember that old adage: You can only control yourself. It’s useful in this case as well. Accept the fact that you are the sane and responsible parent and the other person isn’t. Once you accept it instead of railing against the unjustness of being on call 24/7 you can take measures to get the help you need- from your own support system instead of a fuckwit. Life is so much easier when you drop the rope and make arrangements on your own.

Disclaimer: I don’t want anyone thinking I was never away from my children for even a moment. I put them in the nursery while I went to church. I took Picasso to Mother’s Day Out for a couple of hours one day each week. I went to MOPS groups and childcare was provided there. I managed to take a couple of cake decorating classes and left them with Jerry Lee. Jerry Lee and I took some ballroom and swing dance lessons and we had a babysitter for Rock Star (Picasso wasn’t born yet). When we looked at houses in Michigan we left Rock Star with my mom. We left both kids with Jerry Lee’s parents when we looked at houses in Utah. My brother watched them along with his own two when I threw myself a birthday party. I’ve already written about the Women’s Retreat I took and all the travel that involved. I actually had a sleepover one night with a couple of new mom friends I had met when we moved to Michigan. We spent the night at a hotel away from kids. And eventually as they got older they would go on playdates or spend the night with friends. Obviously this isn’t a comprehensive list of all of the times I was without my children (probably a lot closer to it than I’d like to admit…). So, I was without my children at times, but I certainly did not have child free weekends on a regular basis.

Meeting the Other Woman/New Girlfriend, Court Orders & Timed Introductions

I see this a lot on various sites. Mom wants to meet with the other woman or new girlfriend (and it could honestly be a new girlfriend- affair accomplice is gone and here’s the replacement). People say, “Don’t bother. Nothing good can come of it!” and she insists while being supported by others who say, “You go, girl! I’d want to know who was around my children, too.”

I will preface this with the acknowledgment that Rock Star and Picasso were 15 and 13 when their dad and I split up. I was not dealing with babies or toddlers or even young elementary aged children. I had teenagers. I further acknowledge my children have never met Harley. They have never been in her presence. They have never spent a single overnight with their father. So I am going to run my mouth about something which I’ve never had to deal.

I don’t understand this need to meet the woman. Either she’s the affair accomplice and she’s a piece of shit that does not give two fucks about you, your feelings, or your kids, or she’s a new woman who had no part in your family disintegrating. If she’s the first one meeting her isn’t going to do a damn thing.

There was a woman on one of the pages I follow who insisted upon meeting with the OW. People told her it was not a good idea and yet she insisted. She wanted to make sure the OW knew her place and that she (the OP) was the mom. She told everyone she thought the OW was intimidated by her and this talk was going to be a piece of cake. She was going to set the rules and the OW would follow them.

Wrong. The fact that this woman is perfectly willing to fuck a married man should tell you she has no respect for boundaries. The meeting did not go well and the mom left the meeting feeling terrible. The OW spoke down to her, was not intimidated at all, let her know that mom was not calling all the shots, and has taken every opportunity since then to insert herself in the parenting relationship.

She would have been far better off simply ignoring this person. Life was not chaos before they had their little tete a tete. Now it is. And the worst part of all is that Mom has no recourse. Dad has every right to have whomever he chooses around his kids, absent a court order.

It is a side effect of divorce that you do not have complete control over what your children are exposed to. If this person is not a danger to your child there is nothing you can do. In fact, I’ve heard of instances where mom’s boyfriend just got out of prison and she was planning on moving him in with her and her three children. Perfectly legal. Dad could do nothing. I’ve heard of instances where Dad is living with a convicted child sex offender but there is nothing preventing her from being around the young female child because the abused child was male and in his teens, and she had served her sentence. And yes, there are instances where a parent is able to ban the affair partner or the new girlfriend/boyfriend because of a history of drugs or child abuse or some other sort of criminal record, but unfortunately there are just as many stories where the parent is helpless. But we’re not talking about those cases. We’re talking run of the mill, law abiding citizens. Mom just wants to know who this person is because she wants to vet whoever is around her child.

I always want to know what exactly Mom (or Dad, but it’s usually Mom) is hoping to accomplish with this meeting. You meet her. You don’t like her. You don’t trust her. Now what? I mean, if judges are letting convicted felons move in with children they’re sure as hell not going to prevent dad’s newest girlfriend from being around your child because she likes to drink wine. Or she lets the kids watch more TV than you’re comfortable with or gives them sugary treats or goes to fast food restaurants to feed them instead of cooking a meal.

You meet her and you don’t like her, don’t like the way she parents, don’t like the things she does or likes? Too bad. Welcome to the sucky part of divorce. You might get really lucky and be able to communicate your hopes and wishes for your children (probably only if she’s a new girlfriend and not the OW) but you have no authority to tell her what to do. So what have you accomplished aside from showing her your weak spots and giving her the upper hand if she is inclined to take it?

So many people urge the parent to put language in their court order about not introducing new partners for six to twelve months, or not allowing sleep overs. Some even encourage putting it in the court order that the affair accomplice is not allowed to be around the children at all. Again I ask, to what end?

First of all, you are not likely to get it ordered that the other woman or other man is not allowed to be around your children. I’m not saying it never happens but those are generally special circumstances. It is a rare happening.

Secondly, cheaters lie. They break rules. Sure, put it in there that he can’t introduce Skankella to your kids for six months and he’s not allowed to have her spend the night when the kids are there. And then when he turns around and introduces them the very first weekend he has them and she spends the night what are you going to do?

“You can take him back for contempt of court!” they shout gleefully. “It’s a legal document and he’s in contempt if he goes against it.”

Okay, sure. He’s in contempt. As a person who actually had to take my ex back to court- twice- for contempt I can tell you it cost me approximately five thousand dollars each time I had to do that. My lawyer was fairly cheap as lawyers go, too. I only paid $250 an hour. Some people have those $300 and $500 an hour lawyers. I’m sure there are those who have even more expensive lawyers. Good for them. They’re going to pay even more than I did.

I was also taking him back to court because he either wasn’t paying support at all (first contempt hearing) or he was in arrears (second contempt hearing), which means I actually got money from taking him back to court. I could use that money to help pay my legal bill.

How much money do you have to take him back to court every time he pisses you off? Do you really want to spend five grand because he introduced the other woman to your kids before he was supposed to? Are you going to take him back to court because the girlfriend or affair accomplice slept over when your kids were there? And if you are sitting here saying, “Abso-fucking-lutely!” then let me ask you what exactly you think the judge is going to do in this case? The cat’s already out of the bag. He can’t un-introduce them. He can’t rewind time and have her sleep chastely in her own bed. At most your ex will get a slap on the wrist. If that. You really want to pay five grand for that? Do you think that’s going to stop him? What do you think a judge is going to do? Terminate his parental rights? Give you 100% custody? Order supervised visitation? Make him pay a hefty fine?

I think it stands to reason that if judges don’t give a shit about adultery then they’re not going to care about your ex-husband introducing a new woman to the kids sooner than you’d like. They’re not going to particularly care about him sleeping with her now. That would be kind of ironic, don’t you think? The judge doesn’t care about adultery but they’re very concerned with premarital sex. Honestly, if that was the case I think adultery covers both of those. You can’t be committing adultery without having premarital sex.

I realize there might be some jurisdictions where the judges care more than others. I’m assuming those would be much more conservative jurisdictions. So yes, the judge might care and the judge might be highly irate that the ex did not follow his or her orders. However, we’re still back to, “How much money do you want to spend on this?”

The bottom line is this: As long as your child is not in danger drop the rope. You control yourself. You don’t control your ex. You couldn’t control him when you were married to him and you control him even less now that you’re divorced. Give yourself peace. Trying to micromanage his life and prevent this new woman from being around your children is not going to bring you peace. It will turn into one big, expensive headache.

Just Like Old Times

I don’t write about Jerry Lee much anymore. Truth be told there isn’t a lot to say lately and I don’t want my blog to dwell on him and his atrocities. I mean, if he does something especially stupid or heinous I’ll talk about it. Like when he wanted a ticket to Rock Star’s college graduation, or tells her how he’d love to walk her down the aisle. Aside from that though he’s not a popular topic on this blog. I’m concentrating on other things, like my life.

But today I just have to get this off my chest. I hate his fucking guts. I hate that he got to just blithely skip away from his old life. I hate that he got to pick up with his cousin/whore and her $5000/month take home pay. I hate the fact that she is able to simply get rid of any of her children that are difficult or don’t want to play happy family. And I hate that I hate that because I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to run away from my kids. I don’t want to abandon them and start all over with someone new. But I also hate that I’ve been left holding down the fort.

I’ve done it for so long it’s natural, like breathing. I don’t even think about it. I was the one who had to break the news to our kids that we were getting a divorce. I was the one left to answer their questions- questions I didn’t even have answers for. I was the one that had to do my best to convince them that no matter what happened we would be okay.

He moved out one day without saying a word and I was none the wiser until my alimony and child support wasn’t deposited into my account. I was the one who had to call around and ask his boss if he was still there. I was the one left having to admit to both kids that he had moved to another state.

I was the one who had to break the news that we had to move when he lost his damn job. He was fine. He had a whore to comfort and support him and he didn’t have to say a damn thing to the kids he left behind.

I am the one that knows that Rock Star had only recently found out she was going to be the gymnastics team captain and she had to give that up. I’m the one that knows she was destined to be in the high school’s Hall of Fame and that he fucked that up for her by forcing us to move. I’m the one that was there when it dawned on her that gymnastics was over for her.

I’m the one who knew Picasso was going to join marching band and that he had been receiving some very positive feedback from the camp he attended.

I was the one who had to tell Rock Star she couldn’t get her license and in fact, had to start over from scratch with a learner’s permit.

I was the one taking her to the local high school to get her signed up for classes in case her transfer didn’t go through. I’m the one who saw how disappointed she was at what she was going into. I’m the one that saw my happy, radiant, upbeat girl turn into a glum, withdrawn child. I’m the one who heard her say, “I used to be someone. Now I’m nobody.” I’m the one who held her while she cried.

I will never forgive him for taking her away from her school. Twenty fucking plus years I listened to him whine about being moved around all the time and never going to the same school twice until high school. What does he do to his daughter, his pride and joy? He cheats on her mother after moving us 2000 miles across the country, cuts us off financially, and then loses his fucking job he took to be closer to the whore, thereby forcing us to move and forcing his daughter to switch high schools midway through.

I will never forgive him for taking gymnastics away from her either.

I’ll never forgive him for essentially robbing both of us of her senior year and being able to go on multiple college visits. I was too damn poor during her junior and first part of her senior year. That left us with about 3 months for her to look around before needing to make a decision. We ended up going on two visits- one in Utah and one at Ball State.

I hate him for taking me away from my kids. I feel like I lost out on the end of their childhood because I was working.

Most of all I hate him for all the destruction he left behind for me to clean up. I’m the one paying for the therapy bills for both kids. Because he fucked with their heads just abandoning them one day. See ya! Only he didn’t even have the balls to say that much. I’m the one that paid Rock Star’s tuition or rent. He gave her the rest of the money she needed to buy a laptop her freshman year- around $400, I think. That was the extent of his contribution. I’m the one paying the psychiatrist bills for Picasso. I’m the one paying for the fucking insurance.

Did I mention my company has absolute shit insurance? I pay just over $200 each paycheck for my insurance alone. My family deductible is $6000. I never reach my deductible which means I always pay out of pocket for everything. Except most of my kids’ meds. Those are generally covered, or a large portion is covered for some reason. So because I have a huge deductible I also have $200 out of each paycheck deposited into my HSA account for medical and dental bills.

Why on earth my lawyer did not urge me to consider having him cover them I will never know. What I do know is while you’re going through a divorce you’re not supposed to make any changes to your insurance. Yes, he got fired so none of us were insured. But once he finally got a job he should have been insuring us. He didn’t and it fell to me- the person making all of $11.50 an hour at the time. Of course, I didn’t put $200 in my HSA at that time either. That started almost 2 years ago when all of the therapy started.

I was so close to essentially getting almost a $400 raise per month once Rock Star and Picasso were off of my insurance. Picasso has insurance through the union and Rock Star will have insurance through her job. Now? Who the hell knows?

Picasso is not doing well and it once again falls to me to take care of everything because Daddy Dearest can’t be bothered. He passed along these fucked up genes, and he’s the one that caused a cataclysmic upheaval in their lives. Where is he?

Oh, he’s off living his best fucking life in Georgia with the whore and the one child she has left.

Again, 99.9% of the time I just take care of it because what’s the other option? I can bitch about it but that won’t change anything. Jerry Lee doesn’t care. If it’s going to get done then I’ll need to do it. They need one sane parent and I’m it.

Picasso’s career in carpentry is not off to a stellar start. His first job was fantastic. Unfortunately he’s beginning to think that was an outlier. Also unfortunate was the fact that it only lasted maybe a month.

His second job was a nightmare. His boss was a complete ass. I’m not simply an overbearing mama who thinks her child is an angel. My brother, after hearing the stories Picasso finally told, started making phone calls to people he knew trying to find this guy. He was ready to kick his ass. This guy would call Picasso retarded. Literally would say that. He told him he should just quit, that he wasn’t cut out for this. He would tell other people, “You’ll need to tell this guy twice. He’s slow.” He was absolutely awful. Other people- journeymen even- have complained about this person to the union.

As you might imagine this took quite the toll on his already fragile mental health. At one point he was sitting on the couch and I noted that he looked absolutely miserable. He told me then he didn’t know what to do and he had nothing to live for. Basically he tries to tell himself that things are looking up but then they come crashing down again, and this asshole he was working for reinforced everything Picasso’s brain tells him- he’s worthless, he’s stupid, etc. He didn’t want to go on living. He thought that was the only way to stop the pain.

I was the one talking to my child. I was the one holding him and crying. I was the one begging him to hang on and assuring him that things would get better all while telling him that I would never, ever, ever get over him killing himself. I’ve always been the one. It all falls on me and sometimes it is exhausting.

It seems nothing helps. He never improves.

He was doing better once he was no longer at job #2. Two weeks later he takes his third job. That one was fine but it was very short-lived- 2 or 3 weeks. He found out at the beginning of this job he had enough hours to be an apprentice, moving up from a pre-apprentice.

Then he was out of work for about 6 weeks. Now he’s working at a steel mill. He had 2 okay days but they are now working 12 hour days, 7 days a week. And when I say 12 hours I really mean 12.5 hours because they have a half an hour for lunch. Did I mention he drives an hour to and from work? So he leaves at 6:15 in the morning and doesn’t get home until after 9:30 at night. On top of that everyone expects him to know what to do and they are already talking shit about him because he doesn’t. I don’t think they realize he’s been an apprentice for approximately 80 hours and those 80 hours were spent doing concrete.

I don’t think this job is going to work out. I’m not sure joining the union is going to work out for him. He got into it because he wanted to build stuff and he hasn’t had a single job like that. There’s been flooring, drywall, concrete, and now scaffolding.

His mental health is taking another nosedive and guess who is here for the fallout? That’s right! It’s me! Where is Daddy? Well, we’ve already determined he’s in Georgia living his best life with his new family.

Picasso’s insurance through the union kicked in in August. I still have him on mine because I’m afraid to take him off. I don’t know how much longer he will be employed. I don’t know if he’s going to stick with the union. If I take him off now I can put him back on, I believe, when our open enrollment comes around next month. Then he’ll only be without insurance for two months. Frankly, I would say, “Fuck the insurance,” but he meets with a therapist every other week and a psychiatrist once a month, plus he takes medications. The therapist and psychiatrist visit I could handle. The meds are much more expensive per month out of pocket than what I would pay for insurance.

He was also supposed to start paying for his phone and his car insurance starting in January. Now I’m not sure that any of that will happen.

The psychiatrist did order a cheek swab a few weeks ago. It’s supposed to help her better determine which medications will work better for him, based on his metabolism, or something like that. It has to do with how your body metabolizes medications. I do know that much.

Truthfully it’s hard to tell what all came first. Was Picasso always a time bomb waiting to explode? Or did Jerry Lee moving us across the country when Picasso was 12 start everything off? Would Picasso have had issues regardless, or did they stem from his father abandoning him when he was 13? Say what you will but I tend to think when he tells me his brain tells him he’s worthless and no one likes him that having your father walk out on you without saying a word kind of reinforces that message. Or maybe that act sent the original message and he’s never been able to disregard it. Maybe he would have had issues anyway, but if he had a father around, one who supposedly had gone through all of this himself, he would have had an easier path.

I’m tired. I’m tired of the therapy bills and the psychiatrist bills that keep adding up but never seem to do anything for him. I’m tired of wondering if my kid is ever going to be happy, or at least content. I’m tired of wondering if he will ever be self sufficient. I’m tired of being left to deal with all of this on my own. I’d like both of my kids to be off of my payroll in January or February of 2023, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. And I feel guilty for even expressing that. What kind of mother doesn’t want to take care of her kids forever? If anything ever happened to my son I know I would be saying I would pay a therapist every week if it brought him back to me. I would be begging for all of my old bills to haunt me once again if it meant he was here with me.

So I’m back to hating Jerry Lee. He left and left me to deal with cleaning up his entire mess. Oh, he did tell me he loved Picasso very much and offered to speak to his therapist and gave me the name of his latest medication which has seemingly helped him (Jerry Lee). Wow- so big of him. That was what- 30 seconds of giving a fuck about his son? I’ve spent hours listening to this kid talk about how he hates his life and how his mind is fucked up and he doesn’t believe he’ll ever be happy anymore. I’ve done the work to find a therapist, find a psychiatrist. I’ve spent thousands on insurance, and additional thousands on the therapist, psychiatrist, and meds. I’ve counseled him on questions to ask his psychiatrist. I’ve offered to sit in on a visit with him and his therapist, or even psychiatrist. I’ve even considered in-patient therapy.

Don’t even get me started on school. I hate his cousin fucking guts for leaving me to do battle with Picasso throughout his entire school career but especially his four years of high school. Every damn day was a battle it felt like. I wasn’t sure he was going to graduate and I was pretty sure I could not deal with another year of high school on his behalf. The kid didn’t take his fucking English final and had to have it unlocked by the teacher. “Whatever will be will be, Mom.” That was what I was dealing with while Jerry Lee was off in Georgia with his cousin.

I hate him for taking my daughter away from me, too. I have no doubt that if we were still living in Virginia she wouldn’t be living with her boyfriend. She’d be living at home. She’d look forward to coming home so she could see her high school friends. She had no friends up here for the most part. There was nothing for her. She was home for the summer after her freshman year and it was wonderful having her back. My mom and I both enjoyed our conversations we would have with her after she got off work. She was home for the summer after her sophomore year although this summer wasn’t nearly as wonderful. She spent long weekends down in Muncie with her boyfriend and/or her best friend from college, and if she wasn’t down there then one of them was up here. After that summer she moved into her apartment by herself. She didn’t need my help, although my mom and I came down a week or so later to bring the rest of her things. I had no idea that was the last time she would ever live with me.

He robbed me of my child. He chose to leave her. He chose to exit her life. I didn’t. I thought I would have at least 1 more summer, and when we realized she wouldn’t graduate in the spring because she applied later for nursing school I thought I might have 2 more summers with her. At one point she said she was going to work up here for at least 2 years so I was going to get 2 summers and 2 additional years!

Now she has a five year plan that sees her and her boyfriend buying the house they’re living in and staying in Muncie for 5 years.

Of course, that doesn’t affect Jerry Lee. Did I mention he lives in Georgia? I have? Oh, did I mention he hasn’t seen her since her high school graduation in 2018? Four years. He could drive down to see his cousin every weekend but he has been unable to drive up to see either of his children in years- 4 years for Rock Star and 6 years for Picasso.

I could go on and on about the myriad of reasons I hate Jerry Lee. I hate him for taking away my financial security. I hate that because of him I constantly worry about retirement and what that’s going to look like for me. I hate him for letting me put in a pool only for me to find out 6 days after it was filled that he was a cousin fucking cheater. I hate him for letting our house go into foreclosure, leaving me and our kids with nothing. I hate him for putting me in a situation where I had to leave everything behind. I hate him for not paying me for so long that my poor Beauregard suffered because I couldn’t take him to the vet sooner to find out he had cancer. I hate him for everything. But mostly I hate him for what he did to our kids and then leaving me to do all of the heavy work to try to clean up his mess.

I’ve got bad news for him, although he couldn’t care less. It will never be clean. These stains will last a life time.

TikTok and Co-Parenting

Buckle up! This is a long one.

I have a confession to make. I just started getting into TikTok. I only have a few people I follow and I don’t post, but I like the videos. They’re like little lessons sometimes. Small comedy shows other times.

I had a video pop up for me last night and my head just about exploded.

Little background for you so you understand all that’s going on. Woman gets cheated on by her husband. He’s having an affair while she’s at work supporting the family. She finds out, leaves him, and files for divorce. Husband ends up moving in and having a baby with the affair accomplice. In an interesting turn of events the cheated on woman ends up meeting and getting together with the cheated on man. Yeah, they swapped spouses. Also interesting: Cheated on Daddy has custody of the couple’s kids so the cheated on woman is a full-time stepmom to the affair accomplice’s kids. And…. one last twist. Cheating hubby can’t figure out how to properly fill out paperwork so they are legally still married until he files the proper papers.

Got all of that?

Her TikTok basically went like this: I called up my husband’s girlfriend (remember, technically still married) and asked her if she’d like me to take their son for the weekend so they could have time away together. Followed by this lovely montage of all the kids together and words of affirmation about how wonderful it is that they can do this and how this is how it should be. Yes, the cheated on wife watching the affair child of her cheating husband and his affair accomplice. That’s exactly how it should be. In fucking Crazyville!

OK, despite my outburst let me be very clear. If this kind of thing floats your boat then keep rowing merrily, merrily, merrily down the stream. My point is not that you shouldn’t do it, or that’s damaging or confusing to the kids or they’ll grow up having issues. I mean, they might. I don’t know. But that’s not my point.

My point is this: I’m so sick and tired of the media and everyone else out there that tries to sell this bullshit to us as the way it should be. No, it’s the way it might be. Could be. Much more likely if one of the parties is not an asshole. But more than likely it’s not the way that it is and I’m not even sure it’s something we should strive for.

As always there are the sycophants who must chime in with all of their social media wisdom and these are just a fraction of the comments. The post had over 1.4 thousand of them. I did not have the time, nor the stomach, to read through them all.

I love this! That’s how grown women act. These are true mothers.

Seriously? Sucking up to your husband’s mistress makes you a true mother? Not taking care of your kids after their father has abandoned them? Not working two or three jobs to provide for them? Not doing without so that your children don’t do without? It’s only when you offer to take the other woman’s child that she had with your husband that you can call yourself a true mother. Good to know.

No, there isn’t any food in the house because I spent it all on tanning, nails, and tattoos. But I’m a really good mom. Honest! I take my husband’s love child every other weekend when he and the affair accomplice want to get away for some couple time. That’s the very definition of a true mother.

That’s how grown women act. Bitch, please.

And this is what being a grown woman looks like… that little boy is gonna grow up knowing what love really is.

What in the hell is it with grown woman equaling falling all over yourself to help out your husband and the mistress with their child? When did that become a thing?

Maybe what that little boy is gonna grown up knowing about is piss poor boundaries. Or maybe they’ll all grow up under the illusion that cheating on your spouse is no big deal and get a huge shock when they cheat on their own spouse and that one doesn’t say things like, “Oh bring your baby on over. I’ll watch him or her because I’m a grown woman and grown women do those types of things,” or, “I would love to have you and your mistress over for the holidays. Can you ask her to make her amazing macaroni and cheese?” Instead, maybe their cheated on spouse says something along the lines of,”Get the fuck out of here with that ridiculous shit. Watch your own damn kid. I’m not your fucking babysitter,” or my personal favorite, “I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire so hell no I’m not helping you and your whore out with your child.”

Honestly, is there no other way for your child to feel loved if you aren’t in one big circle jerk with your ex and the affair accomplice?

This!!! This is how it should be done.

I disagree, M’am. Stop pushing this ridiculous notion that all ex’s should get along and be one big happy family. You know what would be even better for the kids than acting like one big happy family? Not cheating on your fucking wife and ending up divorced so you now have to play one big happy family.

Co-parenting done right. Followed by the person being tagged saying, “Yep.”

Nope. I’m pretty sure my friend who had an abusive ex would not agree that this is parenting done right. Especially considering the fact that the ex attempted to strangle their daughter at one point. I’m pretty sure she feels much safer far, far away from her ex. Pretty sure her daughter does, too.

This can only happen when you saw your partner as a partner and not a possession. When things don’t work out you see the bigger picture instead of feeling like someone else took your possession.

Wow! I am almost without words.

No, how about when someone cheats on you and decimates your life it fucking hurts. You don’t owe it to the person who did that to you to buddy up to them or welcome their affair accomplice into your life. I wouldn’t invite my rapist or kidnapper over for Thanksgiving and I don’t intend to invite my ex over either.

That comment above boils everything down to sex and ownership. It is insulting. It completely ignores the person who has been left devastated by the cheater’s actions. It ignores the person who has had their life turned upside down and they’re struggling to understand what has happened and how they’re going to continue on without this person they loved and thought was “their person.” It ignores the cheated on individual who is left wondering what is wrong with them, or if there was something else they could have done- or something they shouldn’t have done. It ignores the parent that is scared to death because they have no idea how they’re going to be able to support their children, have no idea where they may end up, and have no idea how they’re going to make it. It ignores those of us who went through hell to overcome all of the obstacles thrown our way by the cheater. It takes the insidious act of infidelity and boils it down to ownership and jealousy.

You just won’t co-parent because you thought you owned him!

No, I don’t co-parent because he moved hundreds of miles away from his children in order to be with his cousin. I don’t co-parent because he abandoned his children- physically, emotionally, and financially whenever he could. And even if he had stuck around and my kids wanted to engage with him I wouldn’t have been inviting him and Harley over for dinner or getting a mani pedi with her. I will be civil if the time ever comes where I must be but we are not friends. I like to think I select a better caliber of friends than those two.

Oh yeah, and fuck you, you pretentious little twit!

This is adulting. Hats off to you for doing the best for the kiddos.

Again, I ask, “Is this the only way a person can “adult”?” Because I kinda thought I was sucking it up and adult-ing when I faced facts and realized I was going to have to leave my home. I thought I was adult-ing when I took a deep breath and had to break the news to my kids that we were going to move. I thought I was adult-ing when I went through the whole house and put stickers on the majority of my possessions in order to sell them, seeing as how I had no house of my own and I had no idea when I would be able to afford one (we’re into year six and still no house for Sam). I thought I was adult-ing when I signed us up for Medicaid because that stupid, selfish bastard left us without insurance. I thought I was adult-ing when I got my kids registered at their new schools. I thought I was adult-ing when I took the first crappy job I was offered in order to pay my bills and then took another one when I realized that the first crappy job only covered my bills and nothing else. I thought I was adult-ing when I showed up to my jobs and for my kids every day despite the fact that I wanted to die and my life sucked huge donkey balls. I thought I was adult-ing when I sat in a chair with a plasma needle in my arm twice a week for four months in order to insure that my kids had a decent Christmas because their dad couldn’t be counted on to pay his support on time and I never knew when he might suddenly modify shit again. I thought I was adult-ing when I filed for divorce, had to hire an expert of my own to combat his PTSD claims, ended up at trial, and endured questioning by his lawyer. I thought I was adult-ing when I raised my kids, paid my daughter’s tuition, got my son psychiatric help, paid for counseling for both of my kids, and was the one who had to deliver all the bad news to my kids each and every time because he was hundreds of miles away living a life of luxury with his gold digging whore of a cousin. Huh- who knew? All I needed to do was sit around a bonfire and have a couple drinks with them. Or babysit their non-existent love child. Maybe offering to watch Harley’s children with The Saint would have sufficed.

THIS IS HOW YOU CO-PARENT THE RIGHT WAY.

All caps.

Is there really a right way? And are we sure this is it?

Look, this doesn’t affect me. My kids are grown. I never had to share. I never had to co-parent. He took off to greener pastures and was never seen again except for a brief appearance at Rock Star’s high school graduation so he would know down to the half hour when to cut off child support. I’m still curious as to why we have set this up as the example to which we should all aspire?

There are real people involved in these situations. People whose lives have been turned upside down and inside out. They are doubting themselves. Some of them are suicidal. Some actually kill themselves.

I can’t imagine anything crueler than telling a person who has just lost their spouse due to infidelity that the true measure of how much they’ve healed, or the litmus test of them being a good co-parent is their ability to stuff their feelings deep down inside and pretend that they are perfectly okay with everything that has happened to them. Go to a Wine and Canvas Night with the mistress! Babysit their love child so they can have a romantic weekend away! Come on- do it for the kids!

Love this! Living example for those kids.

Is it? Are we sure this is what we want to teach our kids? Actions have no consequences. Everyone around you will be told to suck it up so that you suffer no discomfort.

I know I’ve been snarky through most of this but honestly is this the only kind of example we can set for our kids? Are they doomed if mom has airtight boundaries with dad? Are they going to somehow suffer because dad isn’t offering to watch mom’s baby with the other man? Will they need counseling if people aren’t fooled into believing that their parents are still married despite the lying and cheating and devastating end of the marriage?

I kinda feel like I’ve set a pretty good example for my kids. I did hard things. I worked multiple jobs to make ends meet. I’ve been steadily climbing up the job ladder, making better money. I’m hoping I’ve modeled a strong, capable, loving mother and that they’re not thinking, “If only she had been nicer to Harley…”

This is everything… could you imagine how much better kids’ lives would be if we just put our drama and hurt to the side for them? AMAZING PARENTING.

Again with the minimizing of what the betrayed parent goes through. The very words they use minimize what I and many others went through.

If we just put our drama and hurt to the side…

What drama and hurt are you speaking of? Are you talking about when I found out he moved me and my kids 2000 miles across the country for a con? Are you talking about when I lost my house? Or when I had to break the news to my daughter that this beautiful new life she hadn’t wanted and yet she crafted for herself was about to end? Was it when I went on Medicaid? Is that the hurt you’re referring to? Or maybe it was signing my kids up for free lunches and textbooks when previously my biggest worry was when my pool was finally going to be completed. Are you talking about the humiliation of having to move back in with my mom because I couldn’t support my kids? Or the fact that I slept on a couch for 2 years and didn’t have a single inch of this house to call my own? Maybe the hurt you’re talking about was when I realized I was going to have to work 2 retail jobs at Christmas if I wanted my kids to actually have a Christmas. Or perhaps it was the year I spent four months with a needle in my arm in order to make sure I had enough money for Christmas. I know I keep bringing that one up but believe me, it made an impression. Or maybe the hurt and drama to which you are referring is being left to deal with my children’s mental health issues all by myself while their father is busy building a new life and new family with someone else- someone a little less taxing. I guess that hurt and drama could even be the financial struggles that my kids and I have gone through since August of 2016. But hey, let’s just push all that pesky “hurt and drama” to the side and get on with the more important things in life- like making sure the cheater looks good to everyone and never has to suffer a single consequence.

I know this may come as a shock to most people but I did not cease to be a person once I gave birth. Oh, my life changed completely. There is no doubt about that. I can’t think of an instance where I put my own wants, or even needs, ahead of my children. Our money went to insure that our children had a good life They wanted for nothing. They had birthday parties to die for. I could have bought a second house for what I paid monthly in gym fees for Rock Star. Nonetheless, I still have feelings. I’m still a human being and I still count.

I get to decide where to draw the line.

I do not need to be best friends with my ex and I certainly do not owe it to the person who chose to insert herself in my marriage to be best friends with her or welcome her into my life in any way.

I wish this is how it could be. But the other side is so selfish it isn’t even funny.

I’m not sure about this one. The person who responded asked, “All up in their own feels?”

Typically, when sane people rant about an awful co-parenting relationship it’s because the other parent is an absolute nightmare. They don’t want to be best friends; they would simply like the other parent to be reasonable and able to have a civil conversation about their shared children. They’re not looking to babysit the affair accomplice’s children. They would just like their ex-spouse to cooperate when it comes to their own children.

So, I’m thinking this is probably one of those people who has done something horrible to their former partner and they’re all caught up in their own feels because the ex is not willing to play that game.

Sorry but no one owes it to you to act the way you want them to once a relationship ends. You control yourself. That’s it.

And this is how you teach your kids.

Teach them what?

You know what I taught my kids (I hope!)? I taught my kids you don’t cheat. I taught my kids that cheating has some pretty big consequences. I’m teaching my daughter not to rely on any man and to make sure she can always support herself. I’m trying to teach both of them to look for reciprocity in their relationships and to stay away from those who only take and never give. I’m hoping I’ve taught them to never make their needs smaller for another person.

What I don’t intend to teach them is how to eat shit. I don’t intend to teach them their feelings don’t matter. I don’t plan on teaching them to stuff every bad thing that happens to them deep down inside because it might upset someone else. And I’m sure as hell not going to teach them they should reach out to their former partner and the affair accomplice and ask to watch their child so they can have a romantic weekend together.

And my absolute favorite: Two women supporting each other and showing the kids just what love looks like!

You think this is two women supporting each other? I’m thinking the time to be supportive would have been before she fucked the other woman’s husband. But I’m funny that way.

We can dress this up like it’s women supporting women but what I see is a woman who is falling all over herself to prove something to the world.

Yes, my husband left me for this woman but we are just the best of buddies now. We’re like sister wives! And I love her child she has with my husband the same as I love my own. You should all try to be like me because I’m so grown up and I do co-parenting right.

Blech! It’s kinda like having someone deliberately run you down with their car and then you insist upon using them as your caregiver and in turn you gush about what an awesome job they’re doing taking care of you.

They ran you down with their car. Taking great care of you is the least they could do. Honestly, they should be in jail, not bringing you soup and magazines and changing your bandages.

This is not two women supporting each other. This is one woman who was perfectly comfortable fucking another woman’s husband, moving in with him, and having a baby with him while the other woman tries to convince herself she’s above all the crap. It’s one woman who was perfectly fine with fucking the other woman’s husband, having a baby with him, and then using the cheated on spouse as convenient childcare. In this case it’s both of the cheated on spouses being tasked with babysitting the cheaters’ child. It’s one woman who takes and takes and takes, and another woman who foolishly gives and gives and gives.

Seriously, what has the mistress given the cheated on wife? Her own cheated on husband? She didn’t give her that. Her children? She didn’t give her them either; she lost custody to her cheated on husband. I bet that if you asked the cheated on wife what the mistress turned girlfriend has done for her the response would be, “Not a damn thing.” Probably followed by some tale of how she didn’t keep score and it wasn’t a tit for tat situation. She just wants to do what’s best for those kids!

Of course I’m sure that it helps that the cheated on woman is now sleeping with the other woman’s ex-husband, living with him, and raising her children because the husband got custody. Hell, maybe she has a nefarious plot to try to wrestle custody of the love child away from her as well.

As I said at the beginning of this post, if you want a relationship like this with the person who tried their damnedest to break you knock yourself out. But if you don’t want a relationship like this? Tell ‘em to fuck off. Don’t let yourself get bullied into believing that this is the only way, or even the best way. You do what works for you.

Can’t You Be Nice To Him…. For the Kids?

Someone wrote about the very strong boundaries she has with her ex-husband. She went so far as to say that she hoped in the upcoming years she could say, “He cheated on me and I never saw or spoke to him again.” I can appreciate that.

As you may expect while many people were cheering her on one person had to ask, “How do you think that’s going to affect your children?” Naturally it must be so difficult for the children to have a mom who won’t suck up to their lying, cheating dad. Throw in a phrase or two about the poor lambs being uncomfortable when the parents aren’t together and how they’ll be forced to choose sides, right along with the requisite story about feuding parents that won’t attend major milestones because of their “bitterness” and “rage”.

Her response could have been my response. Why does it fall to us to once again suck it up? It’s not enough that many times we’re thrust back into the workforce, lose time with our children, work 2 and 3 jobs to make ends meet, are responsible for everything child related because the fuckwit is off living his (or her) best life, have to handle the divorce, are being dragged through the mud by the lying cheater, and we’re emotionally exhausted and feeling unloved and unworthy. No, on top of all of those other things we’ve been charged with doing we are also under an obligation to make nice with the very person that put us in that situation.

Think of the children? I’m pretty sure that’s what I did when I worked two retail jobs at Christmas. It’s what I did when I got up and went into work at 2 in the morning because we got 2 trucks during the Christmas season. It’s what I did when I was working 14 and 16 hour days to provide my kids with a Christmas because their dad, the one I’m supposed to “work with” and be cordial to, wasn’t sending a single nickel their way. It’s what I did when I continued to work two jobs even after I got hired on full-time because I knew that I didn’t make enough money at the one full-time job. It’s what I did every time I cried on my way to work, wiping my tears before walking in, whether that was into Target at some ungodly hour or a bank branch in those early days. It’s what I did when I went to the plasma center after work twice a week from August through January, just to ensure I wasn’t dependent on the spousal and child support Jerry Lee sent when he felt like it, modifying it to suit his whims (gotta have money for the whore and her kids). That’s what I did every time I had to break the bad news to my kids, every time I held one of them while they cried. It’s what I’ve done while trying to get Picasso the help he needs and Rock Star the help she needs. It’s what I’ve done the entire seven years since I found out about him and Harley. I’ve shown up. I’ve been there. I’ve done the hard jobs. When he walked away I stuck around. And now you want me to smile and play nice with that motherfucker? Because that’s what’s best for the children?

What if what’s best for my kids is seeing their mom establishing healthy boundaries instead of being a doormat? What if what is best for my kids is me telling them that they don’t have to tolerate people treating them badly? That it’s fine to terminate a relationship that is bad for them. What if teaching my kids that I’m a human being and not some robot is what is best for my kids?

These people have already taken so much from us. Why is it our duty to enable them even further?

As I asked, would you be telling someone to smile and be cordial to their ex if that person had pulled a gun on them? Or beat them unconscious? Or abused their children? If not, why not? Must we get to the point where someone is physically attacked before we can legitimately detach from them?

I’m not one of those people who think that children are irreparably damaged because their divorced parents aren’t buddy buddy. I have no problem with someone telling their child: Your relationship with your father is between the two of you. You need to learn to navigate that on your own. But you also need to realize that the relationship I have with your father is mine to navigate. We don’t have similar experiences so we’re not going to view him through the same lens.

And what’s with this pearl clutching at the idea of Mom and Dad not standing side by side at an awards banquet, or graduation, or even a wedding? I don’t know about you but I didn’t talk to everyone at Rock Star’s graduation. When my kids were in elementary school I didn’t talk to everyone at the awards assemblies. When they played sports I didn’t talk to everyone at the sporting event.

I’ve written about Rock Star’s graduation. I gave Jerry Lee the ticket. I was even the person who offered him a ticket via text message, fully expecting he would come back with some venomous reply. My thought process was, “Oh well. His loss. I tried. I did what I thought was right.” Instead, he shocked me and was actually very thankful. He came to my place of employment. I gave him the ticket. There was no big fanfare. We didn’t reminisce. He took the ticket and left. We didn’t sit together at the ceremony, not that she would have known if we did seeing as how she was down with the graduating class and we were up in the stands. Picasso wouldn’t have known either as he was playing down in the orchestra. My mom saw him and was infuriated by the fact he wore a suit. I saw him. Didn’t give a shit about the suit. I sat with a group of 7 others; he sat alone. I took pictures of her and with her and then headed to the restaurant. He came out of the shadows, cried his crocodile tears and made everything about himself. She joined us at the restaurant. He wasn’t invited.

I could be completely wrong although I don’t think I am but none of this seemed to bother my daughter. No scene was made. I doubt anyone in my vicinity was thinking, “Wow- the anger radiating from her is intense!” or, “Golly gee that woman sure is bitter!” And Rock Star wasn’t sobbing hysterically, “Why can’t I have a picture with my mommy AND my daddy? I just want you two to be best friends for one night. Can’t I have that, please?”

You know what did happen though? Aside from his crocodile tears and making it all about himself, of course. He cut child support in half and prorated his support for her down to the half hour when she graduated. When I dared to question him about this and told him this wasn’t correct he told me to read my divorce decree and then called me a cunt because he was forced to recognize that I was right and he was wrong.

Yet there will always be those Pollyanna’s who urge you to put aside all sense of self-preservation in order to take another beating from the person who has already abused you.

No thanks. If ignoring that motherfucker so hard it makes him doubt his own existence is the worst I do to him then he got off easy.

Why Is It So Easy For Some People To “Get Over It”?, Part IV

Why is it so much easier for some to get over the cheater than it is for others? Define easy. Or at least easier.

I lost my home. I was forced out of the area my kids and I lived in. I lost almost everything I owned. I cried every day for a very long time. I wanted to die. I begged God to kill me and put me out of my misery. I believe at one point I said something to the effect of, “My life is over. Now I’m just waiting to die.”

When I worked as a teller in the branches I often thought that if we were robbed I wouldn’t even care if I got shot and killed. I’d volunteer to be the hostage. All those other people I worked with had something to live for; I was just waiting to die.

Whether I called Jerry Lee the love of my life or the bane of my existence my life did a 180 and I will never be the same again. I will never trust someone like I did before. I’d like to think I’ve worked on fixing my picker. I’d like to believe I got it right this time and that the mobster would never cheat on me. But then again, I never thought Jerry Lee would either. It’s not even that I think he will cheat, or that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know what can happen and I feel that I would be remiss if I stuck my head in the sand and pretended like it could never happen again. And part of me feels that it’s so wrong to think like that because truly healing should mean being able to trust again. Completely trust again with no reservations.

I will never allow myself to rely on anyone ever again. I will never ever lose my home and everything in it if a man walks out on me again. I see all of these women quitting their jobs and becoming stay at home moms and I think to myself how wonderful it must be to be able to trust and rely upon another that way. The trust may not be warranted. We won’t know until much later. But the fact that they have that faith is something I will never have again. I know, and I cannot un-know, that if I depend on someone for my livelihood, my home, my car, my whatever, and I’m wrong about him and what a good person he is, then I will lose everything. Even if my divorce wasn’t as “tough” as someone else’s or my heart wasn’t broken as badly as another’s it damn near killed me and I will never go through that again.

I don’t look at the institution of marriage the same way. I think it’s mostly bullshit and not worth the piece of paper your marriage license is printed on.

I don’t look at in-law relationships the same as I once did. They’re people who are in your life and like you as long as you serve a purpose for their relative. You don’t have an authentic relationship with them. Once your partner is done with you those people you celebrated holidays with and bought gifts for and visited in the hospital and took vacations with won’t remember your name; even more hurtful is the fact that they will immediately slot the new woman (or man) into your place. You’ve now been erased.

I don’t think women should stay at home and take care of the babies while the men folk go off and establish six figure careers. Because you quickly find out 20 years later that when he leaves you for someone else he still has his six figure income and you get to struggle in poverty forever.

Sometimes I find it hard to believe in give and take relationships at all. Someone is always going to have to be willing to believe in someone else and trust that the person won’t screw them over eventually. How do relationships survive when each person is only out for themselves? I’m beginning to think that marriage is a hopelessly outdated institution, one that benefits men far more than it benefits women in most cases.

When you think about it that question, “Why do some people seem to get it over so much easier?” is actually quite insulting. I may not be crying and gnashing my teeth over losing the love of my life or my best friend but it does not mean my road was easy. It turns out I’m just a hell of a lot better at gray rock or no contact than others. No doubt it helped that he moved 6 hours away but even while living in the same house I wasn’t going to give him the time of day.

At the heart of it all I’m a practical person. No point in begging him to come back; I knew it wasn’t going to happen. We both knew there was no turning back. I had warned him back in 2013 that I would forgive him once but if it ever happened again I would divorce him and take him for everything I could. He knew that so the moment he said yes to Harley he knew what was going to happen. And I knew from conversations way back when that when he finally made a decision (usually about leaving a job) his mind was made up; he wouldn’t be swayed by more money or promises of whatever the person thought he might want. He knew he was going to have to leave everything we had just bought together behind. He knew he would lose his kids. He made a choice. Knowing full well that if he let her back into our lives it would mean the end of our marriage and the end of life for our kids as they knew it, he went full steam ahead. He chose her. Every. Single. Step. Of. The. Way.

“Why do some seem to get over it more easily than others?” is a ridiculous question. We don’t know what other people are going through. The only thing cheated on people have in common is that we were cheated on. Everyone likes to think we’re all in the same boat but we’re not. We can all certainly offer up support and assure the person new to this pain that it’s all going to get better, but we’re not all in the same boat. What may look like easier for one person might seem insurmountable for another.

My husband of 20 years was not much of a partner to me. We might have had a good 5 years but that was about it. I was used to going through life alone. I was used to raising children alone for the most part. While I wasn’t mourning the loss of him, wasn’t suffering withdrawals because I couldn’t be with him, wasn’t wondering how on earth I would ever be happy without him in my orbit, make no mistake, none of what I went through was “easier”.

I was very literally thrust into poverty after living in the top 3-4% of the socioeconomic population. I struggled to find work and then I worked so damn much just trying to keep my head above water that I would fall asleep sitting up and had no time with my kids. I worked shitty hours for shitty pay. It took me five years to finally find a job that paid me halfway decent.

I had to move my kids 600 miles away, tear their world apart once again, and move in with my mom. I sold, or left behind, almost everything I had ever owned. I had no bed, much less bedroom, to call my own. I slept on the couch for 2 years. To this day I don’t have a home of my own, and because Jerry Lee let our house go into foreclosure I don’t even have proceeds from the sale of my home with which to buy a new home. I’m starting over at zero. I have no furniture. I have very few household items.

I lost so much time with my two children. I was a good mom to those two. I know they both say I’m still a great mom but I know I’m not the same as I was. I took them everywhere- museums, amusement parks, skating rinks, caves, water parks, zoos, Presidential museums, Yellowstone. I tried my best to keep them busy and engaged. I signed them up for horseback riding lessons; we went white water rafting and took many hikes while living out in Utah. They were both involved in sports. I volunteered at their schools. I took them on road trips. Once I began working I could no longer do that. I feel like I was robbed of the last few years of their childhoods. I see pictures on Facebook of people I know busy with college trips for their kids. I didn’t get to do much of that with Rock Star. I didn’t have the money in the beginning and once I did we didn’t have long before she needed to make a decision. Two trips. That was it. I didn’t get to celebrate my daughter’s senior year of gymnastics. It was abruptly taken away when we moved to Indiana.

My entire life turned upside down and it has never been the same, or even close to what it was. To this day I worry about what will happen when the spousal support stops and when I near retirement age. Even if I can live well these next 10-15 years, what happens to me after that?

Everything I went through was excruciatingly painful. Everything I lost, especially the time with my kids, meant something to me. For a very long time there was no joy in my world. It was a bleak gray. I wanted to die. Does that really sound easier?

Six Years Ago Today

Time flies when you’re having fun. Six years ago today I had my U-Haul packed up and I loaded my two kids and the three dogs into our multiple vehicles and headed off towards Indiana. My brother drove the U-Haul and took Picasso with him. My mom had her own car, although I’m not sure if Rock Star drove with her or me. I’m fairly confident I had all of the dogs.

I remember crying as I drove out of the neighborhood. It was not supposed to be like this; however, with Jerry Lee basically getting fired and deciding that he wasn’t going to go back to work anytime soon, I didn’t have much of a choice. Even if I started working right away I wouldn’t have been able to pay the mortgage, even if that’s the only thing I paid each month.

I remember pulling into my mom’s driveway, going into the house, and thinking, “Now what?”

Now shit would get real. I had to enroll kids in school. I had to apply for Medicaid because this was back when you were fined for not having insurance. I had to apply for free lunches and textbooks. I had to find a job, which would end up taking three months. I would end up getting hired on at the bank in another month but wouldn’t start until January.

Six years. Huh. I suppose a lot has changed in those six years. I made it through the divorce. I made it through working two jobs. I met the mobster. I finally have a bed and a bedroom of my own. I finally have a job where I make a decent amount of money instead of crossing my fingers each month that Jerry Lee will pay his support in full and not modify it yet again. I finally have a kick ass legal agreement that puts Jerry Lee in jail if he fails to pay. Rock Star will soon graduate and will be fully launched by this time next year. Picasso is working on it.

And while this happens EVERY year today is also National Cheesecake Day. If you live close to a Cheesecake Factory you can go in and get yourself a slice of cheesecake. I think it was free, but it may be half price now. You can’t get carry out but you don’t need to order anything other than the cheesecake in the restaurant. Go get yourself some cheesecake! Make this day a happy one!

Stop Expecting Them To Parent!

I think one of the saddest things I see on infidelity boards are the parents that ask in anguish, “Why won’t the fuckwit have anything to do with our children? How can they just abandon their own flesh and blood?”

I frequently see posts from people who are frustrated that the fuckwit won’t help out with the kids, won’t take them for visitation, doesn’t show up when they’re supposed to, and of course, hasn’t seen the kids in months or years.

I recall reading a post on a blog from someone who was irritated that her ex wouldn’t help out with his kid. At the time I told her she needed to pretend that he didn’t exist and that she only had herself and her support system to rely upon. I think she was a little befuddled because her response was along the lines of, “But this is his child! Shouldn’t he be doing this for our child? He’s the other parent; I should be able to rely on him and expect him to do his part! This is for our child, not me!”

My response to that was, “Yes, obviously he should but he’s not going to so stop beating your head against a brick wall and control what you can control.” What she could control, of course, was herself. Not him.

I spent six months living in the same house as Jerry Lee after D-Day. Not one time did he help out with the kids. I believe he asked Picasso once if he needed a ride but that was it. Then he moved 6-7 hours away and he’s never lived in the same state as his kids since then. I had no choice but to take on everything myself.

Maybe that was a blessing in disguise. I never had false hope that the other parent would step up and do his part. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t.

Maybe I spent too much time on other boards, boards populated by single moms who shared children with absent fathers. Their attitude was primarily, “Put on your combat boots and get shit done yourself.”

I think that’s why I advocate for people forming outside support systems. It’s why I recommend not relying on the other parent. And if you’re going to rely on the other parent then make sure you have a backup plan. It’s why I recommend having everything your child needs at your house and the other parent having everything the child needs at their house.

Stop begging an uninterested person to remain in your child’s life. That’s giving the fuckwit more power than they deserve. It makes them central. If they’re going to ditch your kid they’re going to ditch your kid and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. The only thing you’ll be able to do is potentially prolong it. I have heard so many stories where once the sane parent finally drops the rope and puts the relationship responsibility on the now adult child and the other parent it fizzles out, or the now adult child puts an immediate end to it.

Stop being shocked when they flake on you. Expect it. Have that backup plan ready.

I guess maybe in many ways I was lucky that I was the one that handled everything that went along with Rock Star and Picasso. I could figure out how to get both kids to hockey and gymnastics on the same nights when Jerry Lee was at an out of town meeting. He seemed incapable, but I could do it. I was used to taking 2 young kids on a cross country vacation with no help from him even when we were married. I could figure out how to get Rock Star to gymnastics practice early and then return in time to pick Picasso up from school at the regular time. I could figure out how to get Picasso to his hockey tournament (three games played throughout the day) on the same day as Rock Star’s state gymnastics meet. I could figure out how to get a kid to orchestra and arrange a breakfast for the teacher’s at the same time. I could figure out how to arrange for childcare while I volunteered at church. And I even figured out how to arrange for childcare while I went out of town for a weekend with church friends so we could go to a women’s conference.

It involved about 16 hours of driving and leaving children in two separate states but I arranged it! I drove Rock Star from Michigan to Kentucky to stay with her grandmother down there and then I drove Picasso back up from Kentucky to Indiana to stay with my mom. From there I drove back on up to Michigan and my friends and I left for the conference the next day. And I got to turn around and do it all over again a few days later in order to pick them back up.

Is it better when you’ve got a 2 person tag team taking on childcare responsibilities? I’m sure it is. But you can do it without them. My advice, just like the advice I gave to that woman on her blog, is to stop banging your head against a brick wall. Be prepared to take on all the responsibility. Don’t rely upon the other parent. If they come through it’s an unexpected bonus. If they don’t, you’ve got this.

If the other parent is still involved and reliable I think that’s great. I’m not suggesting you attempt to oust them from their kids’ lives. But if you’ve got an ex who doesn’t take much an interest in your children then please stop giving them the power to hurt you and your kids. Your kids need one sane parent. Stop offering up your child like a lamb to slaughter. You don’t mention visitation. If the other parent shows up you send them with them. If they don’t show up they have no idea the other parent was even supposed to be there. You don’t call them and beg them to show up for birthdays or holidays. You take advantage of the fact that you don’t have to share those moments. You don’t ask if they’ll be using their visitation. You don’t remind them of the days they have. They are adults and I trust are able to read their visitation schedule. If you’ve got plans you get yourself a backup in case the other parent doesn’t show. If you didn’t have plans now is your chance to do whatever you want with your kids, whether that’s spending the evening at home, or going out and doing something fun.

Can it be heartbreaking for your child when the other parent abandons them? Of course it can be! More so I think if your child is old enough to remember the other parent being around. In other cases, if the parent disappears early enough they may not even really remember them. Just remember, this is not something you can control. You are not responsible for their shitty choices. You concentrate on being the best parent you can be.

What you can control is taking charge of your life. You can refuse to be at the mercy of a fuckwit. You can refuse to be held hostage to their whims. Put that support system in place. Make your backup plan. Have a backup for your backup plan if necessary. That way when they call you twenty minutes before pickup and let you know they can’t make it you’re not flipping out because you had planned on going out for a long overdue night out with friends. You’ve got this. You’ve already made arrangements. You’re never disappointed that your ex can’t pick up your daughter while you take your son to soccer. You’ve already got this handled.

Two For Two

Jerry Lee is on a roll! Picasso recently had a birthday. Little munchkin turned 20! 20. Can you believe it?

Daddy Dearest texted him (yeah, we’ll get to that in a minute) a birthday message. This is not verbatim but pretty damn close: Happy Birthday, son. I miss you tons. Have a great day. I’m so proud of you. I love you. Hope the day isn’t too hot for you (yeah, we’ll get to that, too).

As Picasso succinctly said, “He apparently realized he couldn’t send his birthday message through Venmo because he wasn’t planning on sending me anything for my birthday.”

Yes, that is correct. Jerry Lee flaked out on giving either one of his kids a birthday gift this year. The man and his cousin bring home over 12k a month but apparently he is too broke to send his kids fifty bucks.

Or perhaps he has simply given up. He realizes his kids aren’t willing to give him the time of day because of his own actions, and instead of owning up to that he has decided he will stop sending them money because, in his eyes, they don’t appreciate it and are only using him as a wallet. Poor sad sausage. His kids don’t appreciate him. Because of me, of course. I brainwashed them.

I was the one that convinced them that him moving out of the house and out of the state to go be with his mistress was a dick move. Naturally they were fine with it until I pointed out, falsely of course, that he had abandoned them!

I was the one that convinced them that him spending hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on the whore’s kids while letting his own go without was a bad thing. They didn’t have a problem with that until I pointed it out.

I was the one that told them they should be hurt that their dad could show up for cheerleading competitions and show and tell for the mulligans while he ditched his own kids. They were good with it until then.

In fact, every bad experience they’ve had since the separation and divorce can be boiled down to me not putting the correct positive spin on it and falling on my sword for him and all his glory.

Whatevs!

Anyway, back to that whole texting thing…. Did everybody catch that? Mr. Genius, Mr. Mensa Member Material, has been claiming for years now that he did not have Picasso’s phone number. The story he told was his phone got wet or something and he lost most of his contacts. While he did have Rock Star’s number, Picasso’s was lost and he had no way of getting it. Interesting. You’d think a genius might be able to formulate a plan. Hell, I’m not a genius and yet I clearly remember tracking down a cute guy I met at a frat party using nothing except my memory, a student directory of the dorms, and some simple fucking deductions! I didn’t even have a last name for him at the time.

Now the question is: Was he lying this whole time, or did he somehow figure out how to get Picasso’s phone number? My son is wondering the same thing. “How did Jerry Lee get my phone number?”

I did check with Rock Star and she said she did not give it to him. Of course, he’s never asked either.

So that’s a little mystery that will never get solved. But hey- Jerry Lee has his son’s number now so no reason he can’t text him every day and say hi, tell him he loves him and misses him. Am I right?

Picasso and I were also both a bit weirded out about the whole, “Hope the day isn’t too hot for you.” The kid was born in July. It’s typically a hot month in the Midwest. I’m not sure Jerry Lee knows how heat adverse Picasso is; however, I recently posted about how proud I was of Picasso. I talked about how he had graduated with no fanfare last June and that as of January he had no job and no driver’s license. And then, just like that, he decided he was going to get his license and he was going to sign up with the carpenter’s union. I went on to say he did both of those things and that he was now driving and he had been working full time since April. In this specific post though I mentioned that the heat index was supposed to be around 110 degrees and to keep him in their thoughts and prayers as I was worried about the heat.

That seems to be a very specific “hope” for Picasso. Coincidence? Or do I have a spy? And is the spy malignant or misguided and benign?

Anyway, Picasso had a great day. His actual birthday was pretty low key but the following day his sister came up and we had a family dinner at a Japanese steakhouse and then everyone came back to the house for ice cream cake. His main gift from me had been tickets to the Fully Loaded Comedy Festival, headlined by Bert Kreischer, last month. Rock Star got the same gift. But seeing as I brought wine to her on her birthday I opted to give Picasso a gift card to a local home improvement store so he could buy some tools or whatever else he might be needing for work. It was a fun time, and while the mystery of Jerry Lee suddenly having Picasso’s number and potentially knowing something about his life was interesting to speculate about, it was but a tiny sidebar and soon forgotten. Quite like Jerry Lee.