Joy Riding

I saw Douchebag on his mid-life crisis motorcycle while I was on my way to pick up our children at after-care. I'm carrying the full load of back to school busyness and he's out joy riding on his mother fucking bike. Where was he going? What was he doing? I don't allow myself time to care. I've got two kids and folders of papers and homework to help with. I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Credit Cards & Doctor's Appointments

Somehow I find out about things without even making an effort. I know I'm good at research but to not even have to try is just lucky. Army Boy's car was broken for a while and I wondered how much he had to pay to get it fixed. How will I find out since we speak in no more than grunts and nods? Well, last week I got an email from a bank telling me to set up online access to my account. I assumed it was concerning the loan for my car so I went through the motions and requested access. Today I got notification that the access was approved and I was able to log in. Lo and behold it wasn't my car loan at all but a credit card for Army Boy. 

I have no idea how or why I got notified to receive online access to this account. Am I joint on the card? I wouldn't think so since it looks like a new account. Now I know what Army Boy paid for his car repairs though and it's not chump change. I'm starting to get worried that Army Boy is wracking up credit card debt and won't be able to pay me what I need to keep my house. I really fucking hate divorce. 

I also got a voicemail about a reminder for a doctor's appointment that Army Boy apparently has this week. Seriously he hasn't changed his contact information yet? I hope the appointment is to treat a horrible STD that he's recently caught. It's probably some mundane thing but I'm just going to tell myself it's for an STD and laugh. 

Retail Therapy and Me

Army Boy is taking the kids this weekend. No, he still hasn't called them. Why bother, it'll only be seven weeks soon since they've heard the sound of their father's voice. I have all these visions in my mind of what their reunion will be like. But I'm betting it will probably be 'Hey Dad' and they'll walk by him and get in the car, just like they saw him yesterday. Should it bother me more that they don't seem to miss him too much? I get a knot in my stomach when I think about seeing him again after so long. I can't wait til it's over and done with. Quick, like removing a bandaid, let's rip it off and start the recovery from the sting. 

What will I do this weekend? Some much needed cleaning and organizing or another outlet trip? I've dropped six sizes since February. Divorce diet is a killer but it's effective. I could use a few more new clothes but I've spent a lot lately. Rebuilding your wardrobe takes an investment though, right? I can't wear pants that I can pull down without unzipping all the time. I think I need to go to Shopaholics Anonymous. I know drowning your sorrows in retail therapy isn't smart but at least I'll look good going to the poor house.

Back To Reality

The exploration of New England is coming to an end. The kids and I went on our last pre-school outing this weekend. We did an alpine slide down a mountain. Fun but pricey. Thank God for some free tickets we received. 

Back to reality in a few days. Back to being at home more than just a few hours of crashing in bed on the weekends. Back to cooking supper every night, back to doing laundry. Yes, I was spoiled by my mom this summer and I enjoyed every second of it. The kids and I will soon start living full time with our renter. It's going to be interesting. 

With the busyness of school and soccer season almost upon us, there will be no more running away on the weekends. Endless hours spent in the car going anywhere but here to avoid thinking about how much our lives have changed in six months. My mom said she can't believe how I can never stay home on the weekend, how I always have to be 'running the roads'. I didn't tell her that it's for my own sanity. I just hope the walls of my house don't start closing in on me like they were doing at the end of last school year, before we escaped for most of the summer. 

We Are Family

I've mentioned before that my parents are both very supportive and always have been throughout whatever I'm going through in my life. Army Boy's deployments, stressful pregnancies, sickness, divorce. My parents have their flaws (as we all do) but I'm extremely fortunate to have them in my life and as my children's grandparents.

My mother-in-law lives in the other half of my parents' duplex. She's still family even though her son is an asshole (and I'm sure she would agree with that at this point). My brother-in-law has been living with his mother while he's on summer vacation from college. He's an alternative student and went back to college in his 30's. So we are one big, not so happy, dysfunctional family living under one roof - for the summer at least until college starts and the kids and I move back home. My parents, the kids and I are separated by a wall from my soon-to-be-ex-in-laws but I can hear when my brother-in-law takes a shower (and flushes the toilet), and they can hear when the kids yell and run around. It's a strange situation but it is what it is.

My brother-in-law is moving back to an unfurnished apartment at college next week. Since neither he nor my mother-in-law own a truck, they turn to the person they know that has one. My dad. So my dad will be helping my soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law move into a new apartment next week. Army Boy will be MIA of course, not just because my father or mother might physically maim him if they see him but also because if there's something to be done for someone in his family, Army Boy is always conveniently busy. Army Boy likes taking assistance from others, but offering assistance, yeah, that's not one of his strong points. (Does he have any strong points? I'm not sure, but I digress.)

My father told me that he would help my brother-in-law move this time. But, when the times comes in the spring for him to move out, my dad said that he's not sure he'll be so willing to help then. My dad said, 'I might be so angry at your husband that I want nothing to do with anybody in that family.' I know my dad doesn't really mean that completely, he would never throw my mother-in-law out in the streets. But it's just one more slice of the shit sandwich that we're all eating here due to Army Boy being such a POS.

No Comment

I got a response back from Army Boy about my email letting him know this weekend works for him to have the kids. He replied, 'Can we do next weekend or do you have plans?'

Maybe he has to work this weekend and can't have them. Or maybe he's just a douchebag and doesn't care that it will then be seven weeks since he's seen the kids. I'm not even going to make any more comments about that, but, on the inside, I'm shaking my head and laughing sardonically because nothing surprises me anymore. 

Today my kids asked why I was late getting home from work. 'I had a meeting with my lawyer,' I said. Why, they asked? Because there's lots of paperwork to fill out when you get a divorce, I answered. 

'I'm not going to get a divorce when I grow up,' my daughter said. 

'What if your husband divorces you?' my son asked. 

'Then I'll punch him in the face,' my daughter said. 

'Then he will really want a divorce,' my son said seriously. And then they both broke out into laughter. I had to laugh too. Kids are so innocent. And I really like my daughter's idea about punching my husband in the face. 

And He's Back

I finally heard from Army Boy. His email stated that he's back in town and that he wants to work out a schedule so he can see the kids. I was tempted to let my venom fly but what's the point? Other than making me feel temporarily better for pointing out what a piece of shit he is, it would have no benefit. So I responded, 'Welcome back. This weekend works. We will meet you at the park n ride at 9.'

Married for fifteen years and our relationship now consists of emails no more than sixteen words long. And that's sixteen words too long for me. I wish I would never have to see or talk to him again. Every time I have to interact with him, I think of the disgusting things that he's done and it gives me a knot in my stomach.

I have a meeting with my lawyer today to discuss the proposal for the divorce settlement. More legal fees. Divorce is the gift that keeps on taking. I'll be asking for full physical and legal custody of the kids. That's what we have in the temporary arrangement. I'm really hoping that Army Boy doesn't try to fight that. I'm assuming that him not speaking to the kids for over five weeks is a good indication of where his mind is at but then again, he doesn't have much of a mind so I'm really not sure.

What Looks Like Pond Scum

The word of the day is pond scum. (Well, actually I guess it should be 'WORDS' of the day if you're the grammar police.) What looks like pond scum, acts like pond scum and smells like pond scum is pond scum. The pond scum might levitate and move to another body of water, a river, lake or ocean, but it's still pond scum.

The question of the day is whether the pond scum in my life has returned from his work travels. Since I am physically unable to sit home on the weekends (or I will go crazy), the kids and I picked a direction and off we went on a jaunt. Two towns over, who do I see on his midlife crisis motorcycle but Pond Scum coming straight at me. Once again fate, or my woman's intuition, is having some fun with me. 

Luckily Pond Scum has no clue what I drive now so I'm pretty sure he didn't notice me. Funny how you can not see or talk to your kids in five weeks (and only see them four hours in six weeks, and four days and four hours in ten weeks) but the first thing you do when you return home after being gone for a month is see your girlfriend. I praise myself on being a detective but it doesn't take much skill to know that's the situation here since he was only one town away from his skanky whore and in a whole separate county from where he lives. Yup, he's gone for a month and he chooses to reunite with her and not even contact those with his own DNA. Thankfully the last time the kids asked about him and inquired when they were going to see him was.....maybe three weeks ago??? If you know you're not a priority with somebody, it's pretty hard to miss them. 

The moral of the day is don't expect pond scum to act like anything other than pond scum. Then you won't be surprised, disappointed or hurt. Keep in mind that you're dealing with the nastiest of shit and you'll know not to get caught up in it. 

This morning on my early morning 'the divorce demons are chasing me' walk, I came across a moose no more than 30 feet away from me. It was standing in a wetland, surrounded by a huge pool of pond scum. I wanted to approach it in order to get a better picture. Then I had visions of myself as tomorrow morning's headline, 'Woman Killed By Crazed Moose'. I backed slowly away from the moose and waited until a car came and scared it off. Closest I've ever come to a moose before. Unfortunately, I've been closer to pond scum. I slept with some for eighteen years. 

My True Love

Last night I took a walk with my significant other, who happens to have four legs and a fur coat. I encountered several couples, ambling along hand in hand, looking lovingly at each other. 

As I walked towards the beautiful sunset in the distance, I asked myself, 'Do I want that? A new love to drape myself all over and look deep into his eyes?' My dog sniffed a few bushes along the path and I answered my own question. 

Nah, I'm good. I'm in no hurry to open up my heart again. No interest, like whatsoever, at all. I've got my kids, my dog, my family, my friends, my coworkers. My life is overflowing with the blessings of many beautiful people. I don't feel like something (or someone) is missing....but I am still debating adding a few more furry members to our family at the request of my kids. 

Welcome Back, I Said Never

You know the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when your cheating asshat of a husband is due to come back into town and you're dreading it? What, you don't have a cheating asshat of a husband? Count yourself very lucky then.

I spent some time the other day removing Army Boy's photos from my digital picture frame at work. Very cathartic, deleting his digital presence and slightly ironic since he's the one that gave me the digital frame for Christmas one year, back when I thought he actually loved me. I haven't taken his photos off the digital frames at home. I think that would be too weird for the kids to have him erased from their lives too. I can avoid looking at his cheating smarmy face easier at home than I can at work so it's tolerable.

Unfortunately Army Boy is like a bad penny or a ghost that won't go away because every now and then his Asshat of a face shows up on the frame on my desk, inches from my elbow. I see it out of the corner of my eye, and then I curse and yell (internally), "I missed another one! Fuck!" One day when I get up the energy, I'll attempt take two of wiping his digital image from my work existence.

My stomach does flips when I think about hearing from him that he wants to see the kids. It's been a good ride for the month he's been gone, a freeing liberating time, devoid of anxiety and the restraint of forcibly making myself not emasculate him when I see him. That time is drawing to a close. I believe he's coming home today. His sister thought it was a few days ago... so nobody really knows when the Ghost of Douchebag Present will ride back into town on his midlife crisis motorcycle, but I'm sure I will feel a disturbance in the force and that's my sign that he's returned.

You Don't Talk. AT ALL.

My daughter had another counseling appointment today. During the session, the counselor asked if my daughter was worried about anything. 'I don't know,' said my daughter. 

'Are you worried about your mom and dad?' Poppy the counselor asked. 

'Yes,' my daughter answered. 

'Are your parents getting along?' Poppy questioned. 

'No, they don't get along at all,' she said, 'they don't talk.' Poppy wrote something down on her paper and then changed the subject. I wanted to defend myself but I refrained. 

After the session, I took the kids out to eat. I said to my daughter, 'You told Poppy that Daddy and I don't get along?' 'You don't,' she replied.  

'We're getting a divorce, we don't really have to get along,' I said. 

'But you don't talk. AT ALL,' she replied. 

'We're getting a divorce, the only thing we need to talk about is you. And we haven't seen Daddy for a while so I can't talk to him anyway,' I said. 

'WE'VE seen Daddy lots of times,' my daughter retorted, 'but you haven't.' 

The fact that my daughter considers seeing her father two days and four hours in nine weeks 'lots of times' amazes me. But if that's what she considers quality time with Daddy, I'm not going to disillusion her. I guess since I'm not included in those visits, she thinks that's wrong though??

Before I could continue the conversation, my son put his finger on my eye and said, 'Put that tear back in your eye. STOP crying about Daddy.' I absolutely was not teary or upset or anything. I haven't cried over Army Boy for weeks. I'm angry, pissed in fact, but I'm no longer really that sad. I pity Asshat for everything he's missing in our kids' lives and I'm resentful of the upheaval he's caused but I'm not going to cry about it anymore. That well has dried up. Then my son looked at my daughter and said, 'SHUT UP about Daddy!' My little boy/man, my protector, my empath. I think he just wants to make everything better and all I want to do is make sure my kids are okay. Divorce really does suck. 

Happiness Is What You Make Of It

This weekend the kids and I went to Maine. I probably should not have spent the money. I'm trying to save for the divorce but the kids have been begging to go on our yearly trek to the ocean, and I've never been a good saver so off we went.

I got the cheapest motel room that I could find and this translated into the smallest motel room in the state of Maine. Oh well, we just used it to crash in, no need for additional space. The kids were tickled that we were staying in a hotel and I was pleased that there didn't appear to be drug deals going on in the parking lot.

We had a lovely time hanging out by the water and racing the waves, building sandcastles and people watching. We saw a band play near the beach and the woman was singing an Adele song. My daughter asked if that was really Adele. My son looked at all the gray haired musicians and said, 'Would Adele have a bunch of old people in her band?' Six year olds are not known for their tact.

When we checked into our motel and entered our room, my daughter asked for a pen. Why, I asked? She wanted to fill out the comment card. Why, I asked again? 'Because they didn't leave a light on for us,' she said with disappointment. Yes, the smallest room in the state of Maine resides in a Motel 6.

My kids make me laugh so much. Creating memories with them and watching as they experience new things is my definition of happiness. Tomorrow Army Boy is supposed to return to town and I'm assuming he's going to want the kids for an upcoming weekend. Soon my anger and resentment are going to bubble up again. Having to forego seeing your kids for a few days because your asshole of a cheating crotch waffle husband is divorcing you is just unnatural. I didn't sign up for this divorce, I didn't sign up for missing out on any of my kids' weekends, and it makes me so angry that I have to because my husband's idea of happiness wasn't our family and everything we shared.

Ex Daddy

Yesterday I referred to Army Boy as my 'ex husband'. My daughter said, 'Ex husband?' I said yes, we're getting a divorce, should I call him something else? She asked me to call him by his name so I said I would. Then, a few minutes later, she referred to him as 'ex Daddy'. I told her of course he wasn't her ex Daddy, he's always going to be her daddy. She said not if I get remarried. I said even then, he would be her daddy. (And where does she get this fascination with me remarrying, I haven't even been on a date yet.) She said when I get remarried she will have a new Daddy and an ex Daddy. 

I'm not a psychologist but I do know how long it's been since my kids have seen or talked to their father. Four weeks on Sunday. He's away at some Army training. The kids asked me a few days ago if Daddy is in Afghanistan again. I said no, he's just the next state over. I don't know if that's the reason they were subconsciously telling themselves why he hasn't called. I told them maybe he doesn't get cell coverage where he is or maybe he's been very busy. 

Why do I feel the need to cover for him? He's chosen his fucking bed, let him lie in it. But I love my kids and I want them to feel like they are cherished by both of their parents. Then a comment like 'ex Daddy' comes from their mouths and my heart hurts for them. I might be reading too much into it, maybe my daughter was just being silly. 

I hope the training that Army Boy is attending is called 'How To Be a Better Person' but I'm pretty sure the army doesn't offer that.  

Goodbye, You've Served Us Well

When you're driving in your car and you hear 'thud, thud, thud' and then your steering wheel starts to shake, you know this ain't going to end well. Yup, fucking flat tire. OMG, really?! Because hitting a deer last week wasn't enough bad car juju, I have to get a flat tire. FML.

After screaming at my model POS car for ten minutes, I contacted work to say that I would be MIA today. I called a tow truck and told them to pick up the car and put the spare on because I need to be able to drive it to the closest dealer to offload it. Then I strapped on my 'I'm going to be a bitch to get the best deal I can' hat, and the kids and I went car shopping. 

At the first dealer we went to, I wasn't sure about the car that I was semi-interested in so I said I'd have to think about it. The sales guy said, 'Sure, think about it and talk it over with your husband.' Then he must have seen my death stare because he added 'or talk to whoever you want about it.' The feminist inside me almost laid him out flat. Just about every car Army Boy and I bought, the one with the vagina in the relationship did the negotiating. You just lost my business, asswipe. 

The second dealer had a nice car but it was way more than I wanted to pay. In my pre-divorce semi-priveleged life, I would have been all over that loaded car like dogs on raw meat. But the practical me, who now sees $$$ everywhere, walked away. 

The third dealer had a car that I really liked. Then the sales guy asked where my husband was. I almost screamed 'WTF' and walked out but I REALLY liked the car so I just said that I was getting a divorce. Then my sweet little son put his arm around me, kissed my cheek and said, 'It's okay, Mommy, we're going to have a normal life.' The sales guy may or may not have seen bittersweet tears pop into my eyes. 

Then my daughter said, 'Whose idea was the divorce again?' I said 'Daddy's' and then my daughter said, 'Daddy made some really dumb decisions.' The sales guy definitely saw me laugh hysterically at that point. Then my daughter said, 'I wish you weren't getting a divorce. Are we poor?' The sales guy looked at me and said sympathetically, 'Kids grow up too fast.' Yes, they do. 

The story ends happily. The kids and I drove off in our new to us vehicle. We gave one last loving pat to our old mini-van, it's served us well over the last 144,000 miles. Now our family of three plus one furry friend has a new ride, and we've crossed one more bridge on the divorcing family highway.

So, I Met This Boy

I'm headed home after a wonderful weekend in DC with a great friend I would have never made if I wasn't getting a divorce. There's a reason for everything, right? Or, maybe, some good can be found in everything.

As I walked to my gate at the airport, I spied a red haired guy sitting in the crowded waiting area. I laughed to myself because my friend had told me a few days ago that gingers will steal your soul. I must take a pic and send it to her, I thought. I sat across from him and then he glanced up. Hmmm, I think he looks familiar. I quickly looked down and then snuck another look. He was eating a sandwich and his face was half covered but the other half was REALLY familiar. He looked up all of a sudden and our eyes met. Did he think I was staring at him? I looked down again and then I gave myself a kick. I'm 39 years old, I'm a mom of two, I'm getting a divorce. I AM not the shy 15 year old girl anymore. So I raised my eyes and found he was still gazing at me.

Was he a boy that had gone to my high school? Could I have run into someone from my small New England town in the big city of Washington?

I smiled hesitantly and he smiled back. Was it him? Maybe, maybe not, I'm not sure. It's been twenty years since I've seen him. I averted my eyes and prepared to wait for the plane to board, losing myself in my thoughts. 

'Hi,' I heard him say. Startled I looked up and for some reason I felt a flush rise in my face. 'Hi,' I replied and then looked back down. I'm not sure I want to engage in a conversation with someone that I might have said four words to in high school. 'Where are you flying?', he asked. I told him and he nodded and said he was going there as well. I am not going to ask him if he went to my high school, I tried to convince myself. I looked at my phone and pretended to be typing on it. 'Why are you in DC,' he asked. 'I'm visiting a friend,' I said. Doesn't he understand the international language of 'I'm on my phone, do not disturb'. Then, to not appear rude, 'How about you?' rolled off my tongue. Damn it, shut up, you don't need to be talking to a guy. He said he was there on business and he was anxious to get home to his dog. His dog?! I love dogs. I asked him what kind it was and we talked about the perils of having large dogs and how great they are even when they are not the best behaved. 

We boarded the plane and we ended up being seated next to each other. Both of us on the aisles of opposing rows. We chatted and compared notes about what we saw in DC and how we would both like to come back and spend some more time there. Then he asked me, 'What high school did you go to?' I told him and he said he did as well. He looked familiar for a reason! What a small world, we agreed. We talked about people that we knew in high school and who we still kept in touch with. Nobody for me, I have a whole new group of friends now. He still keeps in contact with many of his old buddies. As the plane descended he asked if I had children and I thought, here it is, the awkward questions. Yes, I have two kids and I'm separated from my husband and we're getting a divorce. He said that he never had gotten married, he had come close a few times but it never worked out. 

As the plane taxied to the gate, I prepared for the encounter to be over. Then he asked for my phone number and I felt my face flush again. I told him and watched as he entered it into his phone. Do I ask for his phone number? I haven't done this since 1995, how the hell do I know? No, I'm not going to ask for it. Would I want to go out and grab coffee sometime?, he asked. I don't drink coffee, I said. Then I thought duh, coffee doesn't need to be coffee so I said maybe, give me a call. 

"BOARDING FLIGHT NUMBER 5729', the intercom announced, interrupting my fantasy. I shook myself and glanced at Ginger. Nope, he didn't look familiar now that the sandwich was removed from his mouth. He looked like a 40 year old business man with thinning hair. No connection there. I rose from my seat and walked by him. Fairy tales would have to wait for another day. 

Welcome To My Home

I'm on a flight bound for DC and at home in my children's former playroom sits our new tenants, a woman and her two cats. My daughter was ill on Friday so I worked from home. My daughter and I got to watch the woman move in. Was it weird to see a stranger tromping up and down our stairs? Maybe a little but not as much as one would expect. Every time I see her, I think of a large $ in front of me and it makes it a lot more palatable to be sharing living space. Apparently I am all about money, just like my husband criticized about me. It's hard not to be all about money when you don't have much of it. 'I'm a big fan of money. I like it, I use it, I have a little. I keep it in a jar on top of my refrigerator. I'd like to put more in that jar. That's where you come in.' The Wedding Singer. One of the funniest movies ever. 

My daughter seemed very excited to see our renter take up residence. She watched every box and bag come through the door and then cheered when she saw the cats. This will be a nice trial run for us, my kids have been begging for a cat for months. Once our dog meets these new inhabitants, the verdict will be in regarding whether another furry friend is in our future. 

Neither my daughter nor my son seemed too perturbed about losing their playroom. I think the cats outweighed any negative thoughts they had. And once I promised my son I would hook up the Wii in the basement, he didn't care that most of his toys were being evicted to the basement as well. 

I'm glad the moving in is done and my kids and I are away from home for a while. I had visions of them crying when they saw a stranger coming into our house but I think they view it as an adventure. After all Kit Kittredge had boarders in her home, why shouldn't they? (Kit Kittredge is one of my daughter's favorite American Girl dolls and she's watched that movie countless times.) Maybe this will all come out in therapy twenty years from now and they'll discuss how Mommy rented a room to a stranger. Hopefully their therapist will be a divorced mom and she'll say, 'Divorce sucks. You do what you gotta do.'