funny how life just keeps
avalanching and knocking down trees
in its path until the whole
mountaintop rolls off the cliff.

ES Reverie, won five honorable mentions for his participation in the Scholstic Art competition, yesterday. His reaction to it was closer to the polar opposite of what I expected, but what else is new. MOOD STABILIZERS ARE NECESSARY! I suppose mood wise he is like an anorexic person who sees an obese person in the mirror no matter how much bone is showing through the skin.

I was in a rush, I talked to parents and some teachers, I may have gotten a job for the silent Sentinel for the summer, I picked up ES’s considerable load of artwork, I was nervous about spending the afternoon with my ex at the mediator’s for some post divorce organizational fun, I really didn’t understand that I was the stupid (sucker) one left to figure out what to do with the seventeen year old after the ceremony. His father high tailed it out of there at 11:30. ES and I kept missing each other in the hallway and I met him where he said he would go. They were dismissed for the day at noon. Awe hell. It really didn’t make any sense to me.

I made it to mediation only ten minutes late and had a migraine by the time I left three and a half hours later. IF these sessions make me feel anything, its that my ex is ill equipped to really deal with life, death and taxes. NO longer my problem. Somehow, it’s still my fault and the accountant is also to blame. Not the old one he fired, but the new one he had do the taxes wrong…

I’m just not that dumb. My divorce decree was burning a hole in my computer (so to speak.) I have so much of it memorized, unfortunately. There is so much of it that he has not complied with yet.

I do not believe that he is as poor as he lets on. The thing is, I don’t want his money. I want to be fiscally disentangled from this idiot. He misuses terms like bankrupt and broke as if he doesn’t have the money to pay his bills actually. I was advised to file for bankrupcy, but I didn’t have the money to file. Sounds stupid right?

He still has the $400 plus /month car note. The kids got all sorts of expensive gifts when he was supposed to be paying taxes. He said he was just scraping by. He only earned three times my monthly income. Clients owed him money. He owed employees money. The courts don’t care. We’re in America, children are supposed to have video game systems, electronics, cell phones and mp3 players to dispose of when they have temper tantrums. Right? (You do catch the sarcasm I hope.) I have no doubt that the missing money that he accuses me of stealing went straight to the amusement park, the music lessons, the martial arts lessons (because a violent child should have the tools to kill me,) instruments they don’t play and swords (real honest to god swords and knives.) There is a reason I drop the kids off at the street one house away. I don’t know what’s in the house and I don’t take the baby with me when I go there. I am expendable, Girly is not.

Sure, call me paranoid. I’ve been through enough to seem like I make it up. I get accused of many things at these sessions, from the man who can’t seem to parent these boys. The house is filled with anger, competition and animosity. It makes me shudder. I’d rather sit in my basement, bent over double and clean out the sump pump well. In fact, I might just do that today. No time like the present.

I came back to town and went straight to a therapisty/type person. She had five minutes, I talked for ten, then I picked some kale and mint, then went to get more boxes.

Time to get the hell out. Its whether I can take the younger boys with me that really matters. Further deepening the scars, or saving myself.

Yeah, here goes. By the time I got back to the house, the gang was all here. Three boys a girl and bear and then arrived the therapist. Thank God! She was an impartial witness to the crazy, I call my children, though I love them.
My child just wanted to run, jump and play at the dance, he doesn’t understand enlarged heart. He says he had the same feelings during the day at school, though he didn’t bother to tell the gym teacher that just standing up gives him the same feelings of his heart being squeezed. Trying to talk sense into the child, makes no sense. Does he have to have a heart attack, to get it? Why? WHY? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM? He had his session and the therapist agrees he doesn’t get it.

ES was in a mood. That turned ugly. I got called so many things, by my child, because I made him stay at home while I got to go out.

Danger. Warning, warning, Will Robinson, remember the Lost in Space show from the 1970’s? Remember the robot with the crazy arms waving. I should have seen the signs, but there were so many bodies and electronics beeping and whirring and if I had payed attention closely, I would have seen the speedy texting fingers of ES calling for escape from the torturous day of games and food that he had to endure. A girl arrived to drive him somewhere. I asked him to get out of the car and go inside to talk to his therapist, “no, nope, nada, what don’t you understand, you never listen…” It just went on and on. In front of his friend girl. I stopped him from doing what he wanted so he wanted to make me pay. I told him he was physically and verbally abusive and he needed to deal with that. He kept talkingovermeinsultingmeyelling atmeblamingmecreamingatmeforbeingthe reason he was so screwed up.

I do have limits. I didn’t yell much, he wasn’t really in there, in his body. I was worried for the girl in the car. I told her, “I’m sorry to put you in the middle, but” if she left with him I would call the police. He is still underage. She was part of his entourage. She is not 17, 18 or 19.

I don’t believe that he fell asleep in the park, or that he wandered around town after curfew without getting picked up by the police when he disappeared earlier in the week. His goal was to be so much of an ass that I would let him leave. He was released to his grandmother after more boy man hystrionics. He got in my face. I told him to back down, I was not the same mom he beat the shit out of in 2011.


3 thoughts on “I did come back home eventually (Swearing alert) 8/24/2015

  1. This post was from 2015, when he was misdiagnosed with a heart condition by his pediatrician. The specialist I took him to never found anything wrong. Mysterious that I no longer use that pediatrician’s office(sarcasm.) The therapist agreed that getting the boys away from their father’s house was the end goal. This is why I moved so far away, to the country with woods behind my house, so life can be simple with my boys. It is better here, but the craziness with ESR has been transferred to MyChild.

    Liked by 1 person

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