Where Do I Go Now

Hmmmm, May 27th to July 9th is a long time. A lot has happened. Here's some of it:

We enjoyed hanging out all together while we could as school wound down.

The Ninja Princessa turned 13 and started taking martial arts again. (Tae Kwon Do this time, not karate but I'm not changing her name because it just wouldn't have the same ring. )

She got a silver bracelet from her brothers that says, "A sister is a forever friend." (They picked it out!) She almost cried which made them go all boy and start hitting each other to relieve the tension. (They did not put up with hugs.)

I got a hair cut. Woo hoo!

Chaos turned 16 and had a Cthulu tentacle "cake" only someone stole one of the tentacles before I could even take a picture. Boys! I'm sure I should have posted about this earlier too because I won't do it justice here, but Chaos has this new routine that he does about being oppressed because he's a "Ginger". It's a hilarious play on a combination of the red-headed step child being left out and Black Power rhetoric. (NOT to make light of real civil rights struggles. He more or less walks that line carefully.) I'll ask him to take out the trash and he starts in on how it's always the Ginger has to do the unwanted tasks (even though the chores rotate by week and it's his week on the schedule). He's got a couple of red-headed friends at school too that he calls his Brothers In Red. We've made jokes about him being the Ginga Ninja etc, etc. At one of our hilarity infused family dinners, Chaos interrupted a story the Princessa was telling and she interrupted right back saying something like, "Can it Ginger Snap!" We lost it. Hence the "Ginger Snap" on the cake.

Chaos tried to steal my Israeli Paratrooper canvas satchel so I got him one of his own with a skull on it.

Bet went to an oceanography institute for a week and built an underwater ROV (which I will have to get pictures of because it is very cool. She's going to do some great things with her students involving the topics she studied. She's trying to write a grant to get some sextants for her classroom. How cool is that?

We took pictures of the dogs' noses:
Tallulah -

Wasabi -

And Linus had a birthday. Bet and I decided to make it a "theme" birthday. We woke him up with the Secret Agent Man theme song and sent him on "missions" all day long (mostly to get his own birthday presents and to eat). He got clues and maps and had special agent assisting him.

Bet and I were Agent Smith and Agent Smith. We were bad ass. And we got to boss Linus around. It was all kinds of fun. Everyone had to wear X4/GM12 Eco-transponders (i.e. nametages). Agent-In-Training "The Bug" had a cool beetle on his and Agent "Slim Dunk" had a crazy cartoon WWF Wrestler. The evening ended with a party of 12 Special Agents converging on a little Indian restaurant around the corner for dinner. Good times!

There has also been some complete crappiness - mostly involving Mr. Tapioca. The court stuff is ridiculous and the tactics his red neck lawyer employs are stupid. (I hope Mr. Tapioca isn't paying that guy very much. I have yet to receive a document from him that has fewer than five spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes. Seriously, the last thing I got was a list of questions that weren't even numbered correctly! That doesn't even go into the insanity of the content. I have had such a hard time resisting the urge to post that document here!!!) I think one of the reasons I haven't blogged is because I haven't wanted to spew about it all.

Chaos, Mayhem, and Havoc are all with him for the summer. I get to go visit and have the boys every other weekend. The Princessa is gone for 6 weeks (which used to seem long but is 3 full weeks less than the boys are gone!) Bug is an only child with us for the first time ever. It's a very different dynamic. Bug is still in school - and kicking ass. He's gotten nothing but A's so far! (Chaos finished his semester with straight A's too! The Princessa and Mayhem? Lucky to simply finish the year - especially Mayhem whose attention span was strained to the breaking point with weeks left to tough out! Havoc breezed through but doesn't get letter grades the way the middle and high schoolers do.) Bet is home for the summer and Linus is working from home. It is a summer completely different from any other.

The good news is the triathlon training is going well. We're on track for the San Francisco half marathon in a few weeks. (Our long run this weekend is an 8 miler!) We've already done a "mock tri" the same distance as the olympic distance we're signed up for in September (swim a mile, bike 26 miles, run a 10K) and we did it in less than the cut off time for the course. Since our main goal is to finish, it was a huge confidence booster!

I'm not sure what direction Lilymania is headed. There are some challenges to mommy blogging. It's hard to find the time to blog in the moment when we are in the midst of family activities and it's even harder to blog about my kids when they are all gone for the summer. I've found on my few attempts this summer that those posts come out pretty whiny! And there are only so many cute dog posts I can write. I don't plan on abandoning ship but I'm relatively content to drift aimlessly for a while. Maybe I'll play around with the format and layout and that will spark something - but until then... PEACE!

One Week Into Lent And I've Blown It

I tried to give up Tapioca for Lent, but he won't leave me alone! I thought that since he's waitng until Spring Break to see the boys and our mediation is set for Easter Monday that I could get through the Lenten season without struggling with him. I won't bore you with all the details (especially the ones involving insurance coverage) - but in addition to calling my house at 9 am two mornings in a row and hanging up (what, he thinks I don't have caller id??), he is (through his attorney) bugging me about scheduling a time to depose me. Again, so much for going into mediation with any honest effort at resolution. It's merely a logistical hurdle in the way of putting me on trial. BLECK.

Still - I'm working on ways not to be in the struggle. Bet says I need a mantra to turn to instead of spinning my energy up about him and his crazy-making ways. How very Lenten! In my most Episcopagan way, I've decided to turn spin into spin. It's too cold to run, but Vivian (my bike) is on the trainer and I can ride inside. I can take the adrenaline my body automatically produces to fight him - and I can use it for a better purpose. I can train on two levels at once. I already knew I can't complete this triathlon without connecting to my deepest strength and honoring the creative force I'm a part of. I'm just adding to that knowledge by turning turning Tapioca churn into muscle!

Looking at it that way, I haven't truly blown my Lenten discipline. I have struggled with my not struggling with his shit - but it's aligning my internal compass. I call that a saving grace.

Linus, on the other hand, is actively avoiding salvation this week. One of the things I love best about him is that sometimes he's so very Linus. He's in San Diego for a conference and to train his replacement with the old company. He likes his replacement and he likes the new president. The slimy sales guy that's with them? Not so much. At dinner (the company dinner!) the other night, the slimy sales guy turned to Linus and said, "Maybe the reason for this whole trip is not to save (Name of Previous Company), but to save YOU. Maybe God's ulterior motive is to give me a chance to witness to you so that you can accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior." At which point Linus responded, "Mr. Slimy Sales Guy - let me explain this concisely and clearly so we can get on with our supper. I reject Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. Knowingly, willfully, and intentionally. Dessert anyone?" Linus is quite spiritual but not remotely Christian. I don't think Mr. Slimy Sales Guy knew what to do with him after that.

We're an odd mix, the three of us: me (pagan and liturgical both), Linus (fully recovered Catholic, now techno Taoist), Bet (with her M.Div and silent faith, who is fascinated by popular religion yet repulsed by church). Somehow we fit, though. Supporting each other - spirit, mind, and body. Which is enough of a ramble on religiosity for this pagan sex/hallmark holiday.
Peace.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

Havoc is suffering from a migraine that had him puking last night. He is susceptible to pressure fronts and food triggers and surely some other, less easily defined factors, like stress. Because he was sick and we were all off schedule, I was taken aback when my ex called this morning to reassure the boys that he was ok. He didn't want the kids seeing or hearing the news and worrying (which was a right decent thing of him, really). But since I hadn't seen or heard the news, I had no idea what he was talking about. Now I know. Now I'm praying - gratitude for knowing that my friends and family are safe and solace for those who are not as fortunate and who are suffering this morning.
Peace.

One Pathetic Old Jerkwad, Two Fantastic New Words

If I were to give you the full Tapioca Report - you'd never read my blog again. My ex is nauseating. "He doesn't READ!" I say to Bet. ("He never does," she says back.) "He refuses to give me the insurance information," I gripe. ("So you let the lawyers handle that. That's why you pay them the big bucks," she reminds me.) "He doesn't make any sense!" I wail. ("He's not going to," she answers.) "He lies. LIES! And about stupid stuff - stuff that a two year old could check and catch him out on!!" (Bet: This is new? No.) "His actions and his words do NOT match up." (Bet: Again, this is new? No.) "I'm not missing something am I? This crap doesn't make sense does it? Is there something wrong with me that I don't understand this?!!" (Bet: The only thing wrong with you is that you keep expecting him to be rational. He's not going to be. It's not you. You've run this by me, Linus, C is for Coffee and Salsa Man, your mother, your attorneys and probably six other people. No one thinks he is making sense. No one. He's not going to. That is why they call it "crazymaking".) She is so patient! All of you are sooo patient. I have been trying to figure out why it shakes me so deeply when my ex is so blatantly off the deep end. I don't have a great answer except that if making logistical arrangements is this incredibly difficult and stupid with him then what hope is there ever of finding a healthy way to address complicated issues?! (Bet: None. There is no hope of that. You can't change him. You can't make him listen or pay attention or give you coherent answers to questions. You have to give up hoping his side of the equation will ever balance again. Sorry.) Sucks. She's right. I know she's right. But it still sucks.

ANYWAY - on a more fun note. I've been reading during the wee sma's when I can't sleep (see above) and I've found two new words! I love learning new words!! Sheri Tepper and CJ Cherryh - I thank you for introducing me to: horripilating and divagation. I have a decent enough vocabulary (I rock on free rice!) thanks to Orgel in high school (25 words a week, cumulative so that the second week we were responsible for fifty - up through the senior year monster 1,000 word exam.) It's fun to find words that didn't make that list, though. It's especially interesting to find them in context. My secret dweebiness is not so secret now, I suppose.

I hope to be able to get back into blogging every day and talking less about the bane of my existence. It could happen.
Peace.

Deth Delayed 3 Days, School Only 2 Hours

Today was a delayed school opening due to weather the media describes as a "wintry mix". Wintry mix of what you might ask. Wintry mix of HELL I'd be tempted to answer were it not so freaking cold. I am sincerely hoping that this morning's lovely blend of sleet, rain, ice, and wind is a one off event. I do NOT relish driving 500 miles (over the mountains) in it tomorrow. Oh no I do not.

The schools here have this great automated phone tree system. I get a call with a recorded message about upcoming events at the high school every Sunday night. The day the water main broke at the middle school, I got a call in the middle of the day explaining dismissal procedures etc. Last night we got a call (and an email) notifying us of the possibility of a delayed opening this morning. That message said that in the event, early morning connect ED message calls would begin around 6 a.m.. The house phone rang at 5:45 this morning. Ok, they jumped the gun by 15 minutes. My cell phone rang a few minutes later. Hmmm. Hadn't known they'd call the cell phones too, but ok. THEN the house phone rang again. It was my ex calling to tell me in his ridiculous, self-important way that the school had just called him and he wanted to pass on the information to me that school was delayed. "Did you get a call too?" he asked. "Yeah," I said with the word "Asshole!" unsaid but perceptible nonetheless. Does he REALLY think that he needed to call me? From another state and time zone? To tell me there is a weather (my weather) related school delay? For God's sakes, Bet is a TEACHER IN THIS DISTRICT!!! It is not like we would somehow not figure out whether or not school was open and at what time!

If Mr. Tapioca Head were an overly helpful sort in general, it might - just might - be plausible that he wanted to make sure we had it all under control. But seeing as he's an obstructionist pig, I know he just called to get under my skin. The man wouldn't confirm his mailing address for me yesterday (which resulted in me having to send an insurance receipt to him by way of the attorneys!) but he'll call me to tell me what the weather is like outside of my window?! Fucktard.

Having started off so well (what with sleet, tapioca, off schedule children with EXAMS today) you'd probably think it could only get better. Sadly, I have no guarantee of that. I have a dozen mostly important but impossible things to do today. One of them is figuring out what to wear for the tv interview on Monday. Since losing 20 lbs in four days is not an option, I decided to go with a new haircut (cute bob), new hair color (boring but shiny brown/black as opposed to the fun black/red/violet I got last time), and new nails (French manicure). Having spent all my money on that, I must now choose something I already own to wear. Advice???

Since I'm not going to get my chores done, I may as well get around to telling you how much fun I had with my children listening to their music. Dethklok is the new fave. You would not believe how much amusement has been generated by this band in our household. If you have Guitar Hero in your house, you may already be familiar with their stunningly uncomplicated piece "Thunderhorse" which literally has half of the lyrics in the title. If you do not have Guitar Hero and clicked the link you will see that Dethklok is a virtual death metal band created for a television show - a cartoon show. (Like the Monkees - only animated and err... somewhat darker.) The article says that the band is sometimes compared to Spinal Tap "though the overtly comedic aspects of the band are usually reserved for show episodes, while the music itself is relatively straightforward extreme metal." I beg to differ. The lyrics are freaking hilarious. There is a song about lost Vikings who left their map at home and are too macho to take one offered by a girl. There is a song called "Briefcase Full of Guts" and another called "Hatredcopter." Hatredcopter is our second favorite. The lead singer (or rather lead shouter) rails "I get to wear big black helmets I pilot the HATREDCOPTER" and then Pickles (<-scary name that) comes in with the chorus:
You will most likely die
From the hands of my arm
When I come and fly and
Take off your face
With the front
Of my HATREDCOPTER

(I play air guitar with that part and Havoc loses it every time. Chaos (whose CD this is) is not quite as amused - but he's a good sport and he should be after all the razzing he's given out about other people's music.) Our very first favorite on the Dethalbum is called "Birthday Dethday." It's a long song so I'll only give you a sampling of the finer parts:
(it starts out with a growly voice probably trying to sound menacing)
Many years ago today something grew
Inside of your mother...
That thing was you

YOU

YOU YOU YOU YOU

(later)

Happy Birthday
You're gonna die

(still later)

DIE DIE
DETHDAY
BIRTHDAY
DETHDAY
DIE DIE
DETHDAY
BIRTHDAY
DETHDAY

I have promised to sing this song to my sons every year on their birthday. Chaos made the comment that he would thankfully be home for only three more birthdays. I said, "Remember that scene in "City Slickers" where the mom calls her 40-something year old son every year at 5 a.m. on his birthday? That's me. Only I'm going to sing Dethday to you (YOU YOU YOU)." Mayhem made gurgly noises at that point and when I turned around to look (since we were in the car at the time and he was in the backseat) I saw that he was rolling from side to side, practically unable to breathe from laughing so hard at the thought of my calling him to croak into the phone "Happy Birthday, you're gonna die!" God, I love my kids. It's a good thing, I guess, because I have an eight hour drive with them. EIGHT hours of listening to shouting in German (Rammstein), shouting in Metal Dethspeak (Dethklok), electronic pig squeals (Mushroom Heads or Job For a Cowboy - one of them is known for their pig noises but I can't at this moment remember which - ask me on Monday), and crooning about nuclear holocaust (Greenday - Havoc's new CD). As my mother (who put up with The Dead Kennedys, Violent Femmes, and Depeche Mode from me) constantly reminds me, "Paybacks are hell."
Peace. (Not deth!!)

No Bail Money Necessary

Happy New Year! I know. I'm a week late. You know how we have all these traditions about starting the new year the way we want it to continue? We kiss our sweetie(s) at midnight and eat all kinds of "good luck" foods (like black eyed peas cooked with a dime?) etc. Weeeelllll - I sure hope my new year goes better than it started out. Here's the saga: I started 2008 bright and early (3 am Jan 1) puking my guts out. Sad, sad Lilymane. I almost never get really sick and I can't even think of a time where I've been the only one to get sick. If I do finally succumb to something, it's usually after everyone is better and back and school/work. This time I broke with tradition! I was the only one even remotely ill. (Thank heavens!) It is very much NOT FUN to be sick (vilely and horribly sick) when everyone else is home and having fun playing games together! (I mentioned the sad, sad Lilymane part, right?) I managed to get myself better just in time for Bet's birthday on Friday. Yay Bet! As part of her celebration, she and I went to the NC Museum of Art in Raleigh. Friday night we had a big party with 20 or so friends. In addition to celebrating Bet's time on this planet - we celebrated Linus' new job offer! Yay Linus! Then of course it was Wild Card Weekend. Yay NFL! (Although it was total suckitude as ALL FOUR of the teams I was cheering for managed to be eliminated. But it's the Playoffs. I love the energy. LOVE it! The football is intense. No one is holding back. The play calling is interesting - bold. You watch the players mature as athletes and sportsmen right before your eyes. There is nothing like the playoffs. Should I whine now that there are only seven games left - total?? No? Ok - I'll save it for later on in the week.) And if that weren't enough to keep me off line - we had Tapioca weirdness.

**I have to interrupt myself and say that I got a very funny voicemail from my new webfriend Jeff. He called to see if I was ok, if I'd fallen off the face of the earth and maybe needed help climbing back on, or if perhaps I'd been arrested for taking his advice and doing away with my ex. "If you need anything - like bail money - just give me a ring," he said. Don't I have the greatest friends? Now back to the story involving Tapioca, but not bail money (in case you were worried I was throwing in some foreshadowing.) **

Tapioca Report: My mother calls and says, "Have you talked to Mr. Tapioca Head recently? Do you know if he's....ok?" I told her I'd been out of commission but while I was on the phone with her I checked my cell and computer. No messages of any kind. Yay! I love not hearing from him. My mother on the other hand was now trying not to fret. I could hear her trying to figure out how to word what she was going to say. Maybe all mothers do this (egad, maybe I do it to my kids) but my mother has a certain way of pausing that lets me know to pay very close attention to what she says next. Sometimes she pauses because she has decided to leave some of the salient points out for various and sundry reasons (never good reasons as far as I'm concerned - so I listen for the gaps and grill her on them) and sometimes it's because she wants to make sure to say something disturbing in as calm a way as possible. What she said was that the police had been questioning Mr T's neighbors. (She has a customer whose daughter lives next door to my ex and was one of the ones questioned. Of course mom's customer had to rush right in and find out what was going on. My mother tries so very, very hard not to have the shop be Gossip Central but she is fighting a losing battle. Scientists should study the phenomenon. Small town rumorspeed is waaay faster than lightspeed.) So here's my poor mother trying to (on the fly) figure out how to make sure everything is ok by calling me without sounding like an alarmist or a gossip herself. At this point I need to reiterate that as much as I would wish (selfishly) for my ex to disappear - I would never in a million years want that for my boyos. Luckily (for my mother and my kids) at about this point in the conversation, Chaos got home and answered my casually posed question - yes they'd spoken to dad just last night. My mother actually said, "Phew." We still have no idea what it was all about, but at least the fucker is still around (pardon my French.) I guess Mr. Tapioca being missing is one plausible reason why the cops would be asking his neighbors about about "his comings and goings" and what kind of car he drives. In that scenario he would (probably) even be "innocent". Yeah, yeah. I know he hasn't been accused of anything (that I know of) (yet) and that even if he had been - innocent until proven guilty in a court of law and all that. Still. Can you think of any reason for those kinds of police questions that doesn't involve something...unpleasant?? I can't come up with anything. Of course I don't really know enough about how things work to come up with many ideas at all - unpleasant or otherwise. What I do know is (once again) my mother and I ended a conversation with her telling me she truly believes he suffered some kind of brain damage during that surgery (eight weeks before he left me) because he's just been so...weird ever since. Weird Tapioca - just what everyone needs to start the year, eh?

So recap:
Yay Bet! Yay Linus! Yay NFL (sort of)! Yay Friends! Yay having fun with my kids!
Boo intestinal disturbances and Mr. Tapioca!
The good far, far, far outweighs the bad. I think 2008 is going to be a fantastic year.
Peace!

I Need Some Cute Waders

I wish they made these in my size, because then maybe I wouldn't mind wading through the tapioca muck as much. I found out from my ex (= Mr. Tapioca Head) that he will be changing jobs AGAIN in about a week. "He really hates to do this" to me, but that means the insurance will change too, come Jan 1. For those of you keeping score at home, that makes the third insurance plan SINCE JULY and either the 7th or 8th job change since the divorce 6 years ago. (Linus insists I've forgotten two jobs so that it's really the 9th or 10th change, but no matter how you look at it, that's not what I'd call a pattern of stability.) Mr. Tapioca head went on to name the company he'd be working for and said he was planning on being with this one for a long time. He told me that they have one of the lowest layoff rates in the country. I won't name the company, but you'd know it. And, like me, you would probably know their reputation of having a ridiculously high turnover due to burn out. Now, I've never worked for them. I hope what "everybody" says is totally wrong. I hope the rumors of the long hours, back biting, and political wrangling are all false. I am not going to waste my time ferreting out statistics to prove or disprove the word on the street. What I am going to do is wonder out loud (and to my attorney) how the hell this man thinks that taking a "high powered job" (<--his words to me as he was patting himself on the back for advancing from being a manager to being a manager of managers) is going to give him any time to be with his kids if he (God forbid!) should win custody. Bleck.

I'm not even going to tell you about the furious email he sent me because he heard that I'd said something about Mayhem being ADD. (I will however let you know that he said something bulled him over when I'm pretty sure he meant "bowled" him over. We were married almost twelve years and I had NO IDEA he was such a moron. Typos are one thing, but general dumb-assed-ness is another.)

He sent me an email this morning saying he was DONE with me. All communication (except about kid logistics) would be through our attorneys. Yay!!! I can stop dreading my email.

Then five minutes later he sent me an email which a) had nothing to do with the kids and b) included the sentiment that my email responses were "not welcomed" by him. Ahhh, I should have know. Business as usual then. I am so sick of him! Aren't you? My to do list for tomorrow says "Find something else to blog about!"

Peace.

Scary Items At The Pharmacy

Remind me never to wait for a prescription again. The pharmacist told me it would only be about five minutes. And it would have been, had the computer not frozen in the middle of processing one of the prescriptions. Natch. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but the drug store is not like the grocery store. The stuff by the checkout counter isn't candy and People magazine - it's Luden's cough drops and diabetes pamphlets. It didn't take me long to be bored enough to wander further afield. There is some powerfully creepy stuff on sale at down at the Eckerd's.

Did you know they even made "at home" drug test kits?! I had no idea. There were several different kinds: for cocaine, marijuana, and one for meth. They were out of the meth one, which makes me worry a bit about my neighborhood. The boxes that were on the shelves were cheery and cheesy to the point I expected to see "As Seen On TV!" in a bubble on a side panel. What were the marketing people going for with that? It was mighty peppy. I was going to post a link so you could see for yourself, but I got distracted when I found this site. Holy cow! Test yourself for ten drugs at once? Dude, if you've got the possibility of having ten illegal substances in your body at once, you maybe have more to worry about than testing in the privacy and comfort of your own home. I would think that at that point it would be a choice between rehab or the morgue. Worse even than that site was this one. Please god, I do NOT want to need that site. Ever.

But back to what else I discovered in the store and not on the web. I thought I'd be safer if I got away from the drug tests and personal lubricants, so I browsed the diet and weight loss aisle. They were having a huge sale on some fat blocking pill. The front of the package said that for every 5 lbs. of normal paced weight loss, studies showed that folks on this supplement lost 2-3 additional pounds. Huh. I read the back wondering exactly how that worked. I still can't tell you how it worked because I got freaked out by the warning "this product may cause anal leakage and gas emission with oily residue." Er, no thank you.

I tried to concentrate on relatively normal things like fake logs that burned the creosote out of your chimney but it was hard. Right next to that display was a row of plastic Santas that blurted out holiday greetings when I got too close. I am not a fan of inanimate objects talking to me. My kids would laugh if they'd seen me jump and nearly smack the crap out of a boxed holiday decoration. I did find some laundry detergent on super sale but even 50% off is not enough compensation for having to reach past packages of vaginal yeast suppositories or adult diapers claiming to be twice as absorbent for extended outings. I recognize how lucky we are to have products to treat such ghastly discomforts, but egad! Who has the stomach to face all that? Not me.

I was terribly glad when the computer system came back up. Almost glad enough not to curse Mr. Tapioca Head when the clerk tells me (on December 6th) that the new insurance he's gotten for the boys has a $200 annual Rx deductible. Almost, but not quite.
Peace.

Awry

I so wanted to have a kick ass post for the last day of NaBlo! Instead, pretty much all I can dish up is crap with a side order of stress. Weeellll - that's not completely accurate. Today is Havoc's birthday. That's fun. My "baby" is nine! I am working hard today to concentrate on him - his excitement, his sweetness, his enthusiasm. I want to be fully present to his nine-ness without the tinge of sadness that seeps from the past and the worry that casts shadows on the future. It's taking some work not to let my thoughts spiral back to the day Havoc was born. Towards the context that involved my ex. Towards the mixed up way things were when I was desperately trying to hope and pretend away my concerns. I can see myself that day: deliriously in love with my new baby, delighted with my sons who were now big brothers, joyful that my mother was so close and helpful, and lonely/sad/worried about Mr. Tapioca leaving us in the hospital because he was sick and needed to get enough rest to be able to go back to work. I want to shout to my then-self from this point in time and say, "Yes - you're right - those little red flags are not your imagining! Brace yourself! It'll be a little better for a little while and then it's going to suck glass shards! But you and your babies will be ok!"

But I can't shout back to myself. I also can't hear my future self shouting back to me today. I wish I could! I would love to hear that it's going to be rough going for a bit, but ultimately ok. I want that to be the message I would hear if I could. But what if the message is - "Hey - those looming depositions, the lying petitions, and the rest of the soulless court stuff? It is going to shred you and your family! Enjoy what peace drippings you can muster right now, because it's only going to get worse!" Gaaak. Fears, hopes, faith and rage. Nausea. I can't navigate that today. I can't make it go away - or be funny. (I wish I could make it funny! If Linsey can make a post that was both touching and hilarious about the love of her life being diagnosed with celiac disease - why can't I pull an iota of wry humor out of the absurdity that is this pending court case? NOT to trivialize what is so hurtful but to be able to enter into it fully enough to get past the paralyzing aspects. I want to hold up the ridiculous parts in affirmation of the entirety because being able to do so would mean my faith that it will be "ok" was solid. Can't do it today. Not by a long shot.)

No. Here's what I can do. Even if it's it's boring to write about. Today I can go to Havoc's classroom to see their international project presentations. I can admire his "German" chocolate brownies (even if I can't eat them because coconut give me hives.) I can pick up a few more birthday gifts from the Kitchenworks store for the budding chef. I can squeeze him and get us ready for tomorrow's houseful of nine year olds. I can scream and rage "Mr. Tapioca Head is a pathetic, empty liar no matter what happens in court!" in my head all the while smiling at and being pleasant to everyone. (<--I'm Southern like that.) Today I can be a flawed, angry, loving, and not-funny mom. Tomorrow I might could be something else. (<--That's the best cliffhanger I can manage. It translates to "Y'all come back, now. Ya hear?")
Peace.

So What's He Going To Do?

I was stressing as the boys were going to their dad's (=Mr. Tapioca Head's) before the break. I've wanted to get their hair cut for weeks and weeks but the boys were adamantly against it (and the Princessa weighed in on their side). My mother SNORTS when she hears me say anything about their hair. Her comment is that at least of none of them have purple hair. Ahem. So I let the boys go on being shaggy, until of course the day before they were to go to their dad's when both Mayhem and Havoc said they wanted their hair cut and Chaos said he would allow his to be trimmed. Where do you think that came from? (One guess.)

I also discovered too late to rectify the situation that the boys have outgrown (or put holes in - grrrr) the only khakis they have here at my house. No doubt about it, they need new nice pants and they'll be getting some - but there was no time before Thanksgiving. I let them go to see Mr. Tapioca Head's parents on "my" weekend right before the break and I didn't think to check their clothes two weeks before break. (My bad.)

I sent the boys as clean, well-groomed, and nicely dressed as possible given their baseline scruffy and khaki-less status. I was talking to Bet about it. She was taking a shower. I was pacing our (very large) bathroom and fiddling with stuff on the counters - stressing about what grief I was going to get from Mr. Tapioca Head about it. Grief that I feel like I might deserve (sorta) but that I don't want to deal with anyway. Bet leaned her head out of the shower and watched me for a second as I anxiously racketed around. Then she said, "What are you worried about? What can he do? Sue you?"
Well, there is that. He's already played his trump card. It's the only one he's got and it's on the table. He's got a petition in court (as I recently officially found out) suing me for custody of the children - in his words "to get them out of that warped and demented environment [I] have subjected them to." Yeah. Haircut shmaircut, eh?

In other (and way more fun news) - Happy Blogiversary to me! Two years today I've been in the blogosphere. I love it. I've decided to stay!

I've got more to say today, but I may have to say it tomorrow. My "to do" list is a mile long and for having been up for five hours, I've not gotten a heck of a lot of it done yet. Hope you're making more progress on your Monday. OH - and a total shout out to my buddy Solsys for coming up with the word "Frazy" to describe yesterday. Frantic, frazzled, lazy and maybe a bit crazy to boot. Excellent wordsmithing pal!
Peace to the people!

Avoidance Behavior

What I want most to do this morning is not talk - not let anything out for fear it will be a scream and rant of epic proportions. But then there's NaBlo. I'm not very good about talking without saying what's on my mind. I'm not very good at blogging without spewing if things are brewing with my ex (=Mr. Tapioca Head for any new readers.) And they are. Looks like we'll be in court for this custody battle sometime around the beginning of the year. (Such a great way to start out a year, eh?) The papers saying he is the better parent would be laughable if it weren't for the fact that these are my kids on the line.

My brain is so full of anger that I'm not going to post any more today. I'm going to go get some thread and quilt. I'm going to dig up my favorite book (Rimrunners by CJ Cherryh) and get lost in a (hot) ex-space marine's troubles. I'm going to get sucked into football and probably cheer too loudly. I'm going to run (but not the ten sets because Bet is sick) and I'm going to lift. Through all of it I'm going to pray and throw spells and say affirmations and all that cheesy stuff that has comforted folks and worked magic through the centuries. I'm going to be grateful that my children are healthy and beautiful beings and remind myself that as awful as this crap seems, there are so many moms who deal with worse situations on fewer resources. I hope somewhere in all that avoidance and gratitude I recover the parts of me I like best because the part of me that could easily spend the next two hours typing about what a lying, dickweed my ex is? Not so much my best side.
Peace.

High Tapioca Tide

Can't blog today. Too pissed off with my ex. I tried venting but I had to erase the whole thing. Some days it helps to put it all out there and some days it makes me unbearably sad and angry to have his absurdity all laid out.

Maybe after we do our ten set run today (eeek!), my brain will be able to focus on something blogworthy.

Peace.

**Or maybe not. School nurse just called - Mayhem is sick. On a Monday morning. After a weekend with dad. Again. Why doesn't the man believe me that junk food makes Mayhem ill?? How can Mr. Tapioca not understand?? I realize that if he's here, they have to eat "out" - but here in the land of organic everything it is NOT HARD to get good, whole foods even "out". Grrrrr.

**Updated to add: Havoc made it through school but was too sick to walk home and called the mom taxi. Same thing - upset stomach and no fever. Now I'm praying it was just an overdose of junk food and a lack of sleep. I do NOT want to be dealing with an actual stomach virus. :( Need I mention that on top of worrying about how my babies feel - I do not want to be dealing with the lack of health insurance issue?! Good mojo, people - send us some good mojo please!

Two Divided By, Divided By, Zero, Zero, Zero

Tapioca: I'm sorry but I have to talk about it this morning. And by "talk", I actually mean "bitch", "rant", "vent", and possibly "rage".
Thing the First: Our negotiation over visitation has stalled. The last email I got from him two days ago was (once again) laden with whining and accusations. He said, "I did not create this situation, and yet I'm the one that has to suffer." Well, he did create "this" situation. This situation is a wrangling over visitation which we would not be having had he moved like he said he was going to. Of course it was his choice to move or not, to keep his word or break it as he sees fit - but if he chooses not to do what he said he would, then he can't very well say he bears no responsibility for the situation. Do you like how he is the one to suffer? First of all from my point of view - who the fuck cares? You would think that he would understand how little I want to hear about his suffering. He should talk to his therapist about that, not me. (But I refrained from saying that in my reply! I just ignored his statement completely. Someone get me a sticker!!) Second of all - I should point out that the kids aren't suffering and they are the ones we're supposedly negotiating for. They see him, they talk to him, they love him; they love me, they are doing well in school, making friends, and adjusting just fine. They do love him - but he is not "their life" and for that matter, I am not "their life" either. I think that's a good and healthy thing. I adore them; I will do everything in my power to insure their well being in mind, spirit, and body. They are a vastly important, endlessly joyful and challenging part of my life. But they are not my whole, entire life. Mr. Tapioca Head repeatedly says melodramatic crap about how he's a father 24/7/365, how he doesn't go ten minutes without thinking about them, how he doesn't want to give up any of his precious time with them, about how they are his whole life. THIS from a man who historically on "his" weekends pawned the kids off to just about anybody and everybody: his second wife (when he was married), his friends, my mother, my sister, my aunt. Not that I'm complaining about the extra time my mother has gotten because she's loved every minute of it. I'm just calling his bullshit. He has never been involved in their school activities (even when we lived in the same area and he worked in town); he's never kept track of their friends or extracurricular activities; and even this week he says on the one hand he's unwilling to give up a single iota of "his" time while at the same time counter offering in our negotiations for five days less at Christmas!! I don't get it. I sent him back the nicest email I could. I did not tell him what a pathetic, whiny puke he sounded like. I did not wrangle about who started it. I did have to point out that the money situation is of his making (with his late child support payments and unexpected change/veritable lack of health insurance) which means that I can't help pay for plane fares until after he's paid me. I did point out that I was being as reasonable as I could facilitating his visitation by offering to give up my holiday and by offering to pay a portion of the cost. I also asked him to stay solution-oriented and focused on the children. My bad. I haven't heard from him since. It's nice because it means I haven't had to deal with him in two days but it also means that 1) holidays and weekends are still undecided which is stressful for the kids and 2) he has probably decided to put his energy into bringing me to "trial" (which is how he always refers to it.) Bleck.

But wait, there's more!
Thing the Second: Sunday before last Havoc left his hoodie jacket at dad's. Havoc only has one and with the weather cool in the mornings and evenings - he wears it almost every day (when he has it, of course). Mr. Tapioca said he understood and offered to send it right away. TEN days later it gets here. What, did he send it by row boat? I do understand having issues with mailing things (believe me I do!) - but if it's going to be a problem to mail it, then don't offer to do it! Havoc waited for the mailman every single day for a week and finally gave up. At this point, Mr. Tapioca could have brought it with him tomorrow when he picks up the boys for his weekend. Sheesh. In addition to the hoodie, Mr. Tapioca sent Halloween cards from his parents (who are fabulous grandparents and stay very connected to the kids) and a t-shirt he bought Havoc. The t-shirt (for my EIGHT-YEAR OLD) says: I (heart) CHICKS WHO HUG TREES and shave their armpits. I kid you not! WTF?? I think it is ridiculous and inappropriate on so many levels. I don't know why I am the least bit shocked after the last time, but I am. What is he waiting for, Havoc's 9th birthday to buy the t-shirt St. Ann and I saw in New Orleans that says, "Fuck You You Fuckin' Fuck!"? (I can hear St. Ann saying back to me in an Indian accent I can't duplicate on the computer, "No, no. Nothing so offensive in this store.") Really - what is this man thinking? What is he trying to do to my kid? If the court takes my kids away from me to give them to this boundary-less dipweed full time because he is "conventional" and I am not - I will lose what little faith I have left in the system.

Phew - ok - I'm done ranting (for now). I have another post for today and it's more in the vein of pondering than bitching - but I have to go get some other writing and housework done. If I forget, remind me tomorrow to tell you how I discovered what a n00b I am.
Peace.

Mondays Are For Lemurs

I LOVE OCTOBER! The weather is great and the football is greater! Not only did Rob Bironas win for the Titans in the last two seconds of the game with his 8th (and NFL record breaking) field goal of the game - but he also happens to be the kicker for our fantasy football team. We got 28 points - from our kicker! Yay! (Life is not so good for the Miami Dolphin fan in the family. 0 and 6. Eeek. Poor Bet. Maybe next year?)

In other fun news, Linus' mom is here to visit for a few days. She's awesome. And Dunc got a great job and has applied for a cool apartment. It's all good. Bet and I were talking about the flux since the move and she said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but have we had any time here yet when it was just the eight of us?" This from the gal who went from living alone to insta-family. :D We also joked a bit about having a new version of the old sitcom "Eight is Enough" based on our unconventional family.

The tapioca report: I guess we're at the lowest ebb of tapioca possible right now. I'm working with him trying to negotiate a reasonable visitation schedule. I'm sure it's the calm before the storm but I'll take the calm for as long as it lasts. I sent him a very detailed letter saying exactly when the kids were out of school, what my ideas were for maximizing his visitation while minimizing the actual travel time for the children, and which specific dates would work best. As usual I spent hours and days and he spent minutes. He immediately sent me back a letter that said he thought that was great but went on to show he hadn't read what I wrote at all. He quoted the days for both Thanksgiving and Winter Break completely differently from what I had suggested. So while he says he wants all the time he can get, he actually wrote me back and cut off SIX full days of his time with the kids. I'd love the time with my kids - but why exactly is he suing me for custody when he doesn't even want the vacation time I'm willing to give him?!!!!!!!!!!! Also, he is unwilling to discuss visitation in January because as he says, "We should of had adequate time to resolve our legal custody issues by then." Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. It is infuriating to spend hours looking up exact school vacation schedules, consulting the legal orders, and thoughtfully composing a letter only to get a response that is ill-considered, half-assed, and a grammar nightmare to boot. Bleck. Still... Calm. Before. The. Storm. Soon we'll be in court and you know how much I love that.

For now, I'm all zen and enjoying the now. Maybe it's a leftover runner's high as Bet and I ran for an hour yesterday. An hour! Me! Running! We've got this plan where we're running for a certain number of minutes and then walking for two minutes, then running again. Yesterday we increased the number of sets we ran and also increased the run versus walk ratio. It was fantastic. It was the best run we've had. Maybe the Miami Half Marathon isn't a pipe dream!
Peace all!

Old Newness (And New Oldness)

So here is the entry I was fixing to post TWO WEEKS AGO when life (in the form of a silly ex-husband) intervened.

New this week:
1) Fall weather! I LOVE 50 degree nights and 75 degree days!!! Hello football weather.

2) Speaking of football, Havoc wanted to play fantasy football too so he created a team this weekend called the Gridiron Chefs. :D He jumped up and down in excitement when he got his favorite QB, Tom Brady, in the draft. He's wearing his Patriots jersey today to celebrate. (**Update is that Havoc's fantasy football team is kicking the snot out of mine and Bet's team. Butterhead.**)

3) Mayhem has a girlfriend! He told me that at the dance, 8th graders kept asking him to dance and he turned them down. I asked him why and he looked AGHAST. "I couldn't dance with them when I was there with Lisa!" Ahhhh. Because I was supposed to know that he was "there with Lisa"? I dropped him off at MAT'S house before the dance and took MAT home after the dance and all I'd heard about the girls was that business of zapping! Bet teasingly asked Mayhem if he had kissed Lisa and Mayhem said, "Never on the first date!" which was funny but also good. However, yesterday Mayhem went ice skating on what was supposed to be a "double date" of him and Lisa and then his buddy Sam and Sam's girl (who I think is Lisa's best friend.) Turns out that Sam couldn't make it and Lisa had two friends with her. Mayhem did not seem to mind spending the afternoon with three girls. (**Update is that Lisa is not only quite pretty but she's in the super gifted group at school. Cute and smart! Yay Mayhem. Only thing is, I think she's turned his brain to mush. Calls from teachers over the weekend indicate that Mayhem needs to pay a leetle more attention to school. A suggestion was made that turning in worksheets with actual work on them would bring his newly dropped grades back up. Doh!**)

4) Ridiculous emails: Mr. Tapioca Head has been sending me harassing, pathetic, crazy emails. He calls me names. He threatens me with things he's going to bring up in the "trial." Then he closes with something like, "Do not respond to this email. I will not read it. Respond only to my lawyer." So I haven't responded. THEN he starts sending me whiny, lecturing emails because I'm not answering him. My attorney told me to send this email to him (which I did):

Mr. Tapioca Head -
Unless there is an emergency affecting the children, please direct all communication to me through the attorneys.
-Lilymane

It is amazing how free I feel having sent that email. Don't get me wrong - I HATE the lawyer games. They are expensive and stupid. But since "he started it" and I have to pay lot$ just to have an attorney - it is great to know that from now on she can be my filter. I no longer dread opening my computer.

(**Update is that I was all ready to post that until I immediately got more email from my ex. Not only that, but he started sending email to MY attorney, too. She responded to him with this:

mr. tapicoa head:
it is my understanding that you are represented by the firm of bubba, redneck, and earl in this matter. since you have an attorney, it is improper for you to communicate directly with me. please do not email me directly any more. just ask your attorney to communicate and i will deal with him. if you are not represented by an attorney, then i can talk to you directly.
lilymane's kickass attorney

(Apparently I do not pay my attorney enough money to use capital letters. That must be the platinum level of representation that I can't afford. Still, lower case aside - I love my attorney.)

Do you know what Mr. Tapioca did when he received that email from my attorney? He wrote her back saying he had not meant to be improper but blah, blah, blah. He wouldn't shut up! A dozen emails later (sent to both of us) and my attorney sends him another note:

mr. tapioca head:
please stop emailing me. it is improper and inappropriate, as i have already told you. i will not read what you write. if you have something to communicate about this case, please direct it to your attorney, who can then get in touch with me.
lilymane's kickass (and pissed off) attorney

Take one guess what the man did! One. Guess. If you guessed that he EMAILED HER BACK then you have begun to comprehend the vast expanses of my ex's inability to respect anyone's boundaries. Would it surprise you to learn that at one point he was TEXTING me trying to get me to agree to his proposed visitation plans? What did he expect back, do you think? A text saying, "ok u get kids when u want & dont 4get Rx info"? I don't know about you, but in my world text messages are for things like, "Will be 10 min late. Sorry." NOT for discussing issues that are in the process of being contested in court! The man is beyond irritating.

His new and completely passive aggressive strategy is to send an email detailing how he wants things to be and then to conclude with "If I don't hear from you, I will assume this is all ok with you," which makes me want to pluck out his eyeballs. Does he think that strategy is going to work? When he shows up at the airport and the children don't get off the plane, do you think he'll whine to the ticketing agent, "But she didn't write back and say she objected to taking the children out of school to fly them to me so I assumed she'd just do it." As if he hadn't already been a pain in the ass enough for four exes, he has changed jobs (and phone numbers and health insurance for the kids) AGAIN. That makes seven times (although Linus insists it's eight times) in six years. And again, he's playing games about getting the information to me. i could care less about his address but I found out the health insurance was no longer valid when I couldn't refill Havoc's prescription for asthma medicine. My child needs this medicine to help him BREATHE! I get emails without ceasing concerning matters of Mr. Tapioca's convenience but not a bit of communication about matters vital to the health and well-being of our child (in spite of my lawyer asking his lawyer for it, etc, etc.) And that is waaaay more update than any of us wanted, isn't it?**)

So maybe now you can see why I haven't been posting? I've been trying to spare you the rant that I knew would spring forth the minute I got to typing. I also have to admit, I've spent as little time on the computer as possible in the past two weeks in a futile attempt to avoid the tapioca tide myself. That's been a little bit like throwing the baby out with the bath water as I've really missed my blog and it hasn't stopped the insanity of my ex. I need a new coping mechanism that's lighter on the avoidance and maybe heavier on the butter and salt. Butter and salt make everything better, don't they?
Peace.

PS - Mojo requests! Please send good thoughts to St. Ann and John the Magnificent this week as they have their own tapioca to deal with. And send some healing vibes down South to my buddy Steve's mom. Peace, peace, peace to everyone!

When Not To Bike To The Beach

Our bike trips seemed to be plagued with extreme weather. Last year we chose to bike in Upstate New York and Canada thinking to avoid the heat. Sadly two of the seven days we biked were the hottest on record there - and incidentally some 10 - 15 degrees hotter than home! Then in April Bet faced record breaking cold temperatures while biking in the South. I don't know why we didn't expect the 104 degree day we had on our first day biking to the beach! I was done after two days but Bet biked the 73 miles on the last (and coolest day) to finish on a very strong note. Here are some images from the trip:

Bet and I checking our gear just before take off.

Fluffy dog saying goodbye to Mama.

Fluffy dog not so fluffy anymore.

Wasabi barked at the waves and tried to bite them. I wish I'd been able to get a picture of him when he'd only gotten his legs wet and the rest of him was still dry. He looked like a cotton ball with chicken legs. Later when his face was soaked and his beard hanging all bedraggled, he plunked his chin down into the sand and pulled it back up again - with sand dreads dangling from his chin. We burst out laughing which made him run around some. All in all it was a fun trip to the beach. (I'll gloss over the part where Linus, the Princessa, Bug and Bet all stayed out in the sun between 12 and 4 without enough sun screen on. They are all peeling now. I'm peeling too - but if I hadn't sat under an umbrella back in the state park headquarters for those four hours, I'd probably still be in the hospital with sunstroke.) The boys should be home tomorrow and school starts in a week. Summer is coming to a close. This time of year is both sad and exciting to me. This year it might end up being more of both of those things. I'll try not to be a bore about it here on Lilymania, but I just got a certified, return-receipt letter. (I hate those fuckers. They are never good.) This one was from my ex's new lawyer saying that not only has my ex decided not to move, but he's decided to sue me for custody of my children. Soooo pleasant, that. I'm hoping he brings my kids back to me as scheduled tomorrow. I'm hoping I won't whine and carry on here. But I might. It helps me process. Hope the summer is closing out nicely for everyone. I'm off to see Order of the Phoenix a second time.
Peace.

Does He Stay Up Late Thinking Of This Shit?

Or is it a natural gift? That's what I'm asking myself this morning.

(**Please, dear readers, skip this whole post and check back with me tomorrow if previous tapioca reports have bored you senseless. This pudding-headed interlude, while a bit stranger than most, is probably not worth reading. Unfortunately for you, I've become dependent on my blog as a venting vehicle! I have tried but I cannot properly complete my freaking out and move on without blogging about it. I'll be over it tomorrow. I promise.)

So I got an email from my ex, Mr. Tapioca Head, this morning inviting me to a surprise going away party he's having for the boys. That is not weird. That is kind and normal. Thoughtful even. (Ignore for a moment that his email also asked me for a list of the boys' friends and phone numbers.) The part of this email that has me freaking out is the part where he says, "But I also wanted to let you know that I did invite [let's call her Jessica] to this, so her son can say goodbye to the boys as well. I don’t want to make things awkward for you. " Jessica happens to be my ex girlfriend. I met her a year or so after my divorce and we dated for about a year. It ended in a very ugly way. She lied to me, then cheated on me, and then lied some more. I told her I didn't want her in my life or my children's lives, in any way, ever again. (Can you blame me?!) So, naturally, as I read his email, several obvious questions came to mind.

First: What possessed Mr. Tapioca Head to invite her to a party (supposedly) for my children? Yes, he had kept in contact with her. (I had introduced them at the time. They work in the same industry. She got him a job and later he returned the favor and got her a job somewhere else.) Fine. Then he should invite her to a party for HIM. My kids haven't seen her or her son in at least four years. Why the need to say goodbye now? Not to mention the part where I told my children that the reason she and her son weren't in our lives anymore was because she'd lied to me about something important. The boys and I had lots of discussions about friendships and boundaries and second chances and making hard decisions. We talked about what to do when people seemed nice but did mean things. (They were too young to know that it was a romantic relationship so I wasn't processing my "break up" with them - but the lessons are important and universal. Everyone ends up with tricky friendship situations at some point in their lives.) Mr. T knew all about this. As a co-parent, I wanted him to know what the kids were dealing with. I told him what was going on and why and how much I was telling the kids and why. He knew what kinds of questions they were asking and what answers I was giving them. Again - fine if he wants to stay connected to her even knowing what she's like, but to pretend he's inviting her to this party for my kids' sake? Mixed messages. Does not compute.

Second: As bizarre as it is to invite her in the first place and to pretend it's for my kids, I think it is WAAAAYYY more bizarre for him to then invite ME. And it is beyond ridiculous for him to say he doesn't want to make things awkward. His middle name is Awkward. Tapioca Awkward Head.

The man has NO boundaries. None. I won't be going to this party. I wouldn't have been able to even if it had been a normal going away party for the children. It is the day we load the moving truck (we'll ignore the fact that my ex knew this little fact too) and it is also the day of a good friend's wedding. But if you're free that day and want to attend the first (hopefully not annual) Bizarrefest, I'm sure I could get you an invite. I know a guy.
Peace.

Tapioca - A Minor Flare Up

Remember the shirt? The one at the wrestling tournament that said, "Hold my headgear while I kiss your girlfriend?" The one I object to on principle but find particularly inappropriate to be selling to a crowd of second graders like Havoc? That's the shirt Havoc came home in this morning. It was Mr. Tapioca Head's weekend and he took Havoc to Saturday's wrestling meet. Apparently he didn't see anything objectionable about that shirt. In fact, he had it personalized by getting Havoc's weight class printed on the sleeve. It might as well say, "Under 65 pounds and already being indoctrinated with macho bullshit!" Along with that stellar wardrobe addition, all three boys came home wearing "dog tags" stamped with their name and my ex's address and phone number.

I could be snarky and say that it's probably a good idea as the boys have given up memorizing Mr. Tapioca's info since it changes so often. Except that I'm trying not to be snarky. I'm also trying to pretend it doesn't bug to me when he does weird stuff like this. My mother says (incredibly unhelpful) things like, "Don't let him get to you. You give him too much of your energy when you let him get to you." Ok, fine. Pretend, pretend, pretend. NOT WORKING! I hate the empty gestures he makes - the one upsmanship and the strange ways he has of trying to co-opt me into agreeing with his unhealthy parenting philosophies. He has a way of calling me to tell me things I already know about the boys - things any parent not smoking crack would know about their children. He thinks I don't know some of the things he's saying? He wants to "prove" to me that he knows them too? What? I don't understand. It's like he forgets who he is talking to sometimes. For instance, right after court he suggested we go BACK to mediation to work out the things that were in the parenting plans that didn't get heard (because my lawyer is an asshat.) He said, "This time I'll keep an open mind and make an honest effort. It's for the boys' sake." Excuse me? That's what you were supposed to do last time, nimrod.

Even when we agree on things he makes me nuts. I agreed three separate times to his request that we each have the children on our birthdays. It wasn't in our original agreement and I feel perfectly comfortable celebrating with the kids on a day other than my actual birthday but he seems to feel strongly about it, so fine. I have never objected to this change. Not once. I agreed to this in mediation in June (although I didn't get to have the kids for my July birthday because he had already made plans to take them out of town during that time); I agreed to this in October (when I submitted my proposed parenting plan - it was written to include his request); I agreed to it a-freakin-gain talking to him after court in January. His birthday in February fell on the Sunday in "my" weekend. I assumed (incorrectly as it turns out) that he would want to come get the boys on Saturday night and have them on his birthday as we agreed. But no. He made plans to go out of town. He told me that since he didn't have it in writing he hadn't wanted count on it. Riiiight. Then he said, "I don't want anyone to think I don't want to spend time with my children. I think about being a dad 24/7 and 365 days a year. Not an hour goes by when I don't think of my children." Somebody please get that man a gold star for parenting.

There you have it, my children came home slimed with Tapioca this morning and there's just not a darn thing I can do about it but whine on the internet.
Peace.

To Be Continued

There's been another continuance in our court case. The good news is that I don't have to spend today figuring out what to wear. The bad news is that it won't be over this week. It will be hanging over my head for about another month. Bleck.

The child support situation is ridiculous. My ex is ridiculous. I just have to post this. You don't have to read it - but I think it will help me clear my head about his crazy-making. Here is the email (edited only to take out personal data) that Mr. Tapioca Head sent me when I dared to ask back in November if he knew why I'd received no child support. The check was more than a week late and it was right before Thanksgiving. Sidenote is that because he'd just changed jobs and the garnishment paperwork takes about six weeks to catch up, he'd had to mail this check in to the state system.

Lilymane,

The State handles all of our child support at this point. You forced us into this situation post the mediation appointment which you decided was pointless, so I had no recourse but to go to the state to avoid any further contact with you regarding my child support payments.

It was inappropriate of you to bring up that subject with me today on the phone. I have no idea the logistics involved with processing my child support payments, but remind you that if you have any issues with it, by law, you need to contact the Child Support Receipting unit not me. My obligation, per ____ is to pay the sum of ___ each month, but am not restricted on how I do so. Any payments I make before that date is a courtesy. Starting in December, I will not be in the position to make any mid-month payments due to my pay schedule, so you will only be getting a payment from the state after the end of the month.

Please do not contact or discuss with me again concerning child support.

Mr. Tapioca Head

Nice, eh? Do you like how I "forced" this situation by not just agreeing to his demands in mediation? Do you like how he implies that I'm breaking the law by asking him and not Child Support Services? You know, I had asked the Child Support folks before talking to him and what they said was "He hasn't sent anything otherwise it would show up in our system. It might not show up in your account while we process the check, but we would be able to see that there was something being processed. There is nothing being processed. Have you asked him if he mailed anything?" Also? I was married to the man for 12 years. Does he think I don't remember all the times he lied to other people about things he was supposed to have mailed and didn't? I have not brought it up again. But Mr. Tapioca Head has. He does these odd emotional flipturns. He goes from righteously legalistic and pompous to over-the-top concerned and caring. Actually this is an example of a fairly mild swing but it still squicks me out. He's lying on either end of the spectrum and I can't trust any of it. Here is the email he sent me about the child support yesterday. He's still talking about the check he supposedly mailed:

Lilymane,

I talked to Child support services again today. No check. They advised me to wait longer, because if I put a stop payment on the check, I will relinquish my privilage to write checks to them. I decided that was unfair to you. So, I just put a stop payment on the check I sent for the November 15th payment, and as of tomorrow, if it hasn't been presented to the bank, they will block it. I will rewrite the check (Ok, do a money order) and have it sent next day to the Child Support Receipting unit. I do have to wait till tomorrow just to make sure it doesn't get paid tonight. You should have your money by the end of the week? (Not sure how long it takes them to process it, from when they receive payment)

You have waited long enough.

I am pushing them to send my company the automatic debit/garnishment so it will come right out of my paycheck, but my company still has not received the request. I will hound them on this so that this kind of issue is non-existant in the future.

I am truly sorry for the inconvenience.

Mr. Tapioca Head

He's going to "relinquish" his privilege to write checks to child support services, all for little ole me. And next time things get messed up (and you KNOW there's going to be a next time), he will say that I "forced" us into this situation and it's my fault he can't write a check to fix it. He says "they" advised him to wait and not send any money in - hah! That sounds just like the folks over at the child support enforcement agency, doesn't it? "You are how far behind in child support? It's been how long since you mailed in a check that no one has seen? Oh, we advise you to wait just a little longer because we sure would hate for you to lose your check writing privileges." My Aunt Fanny! It reminds me of when he went to therapy during our divorce and came back to say literally, "My therapist says this is all your fault. He says that I'm fine and you are the one who needs therapy."

Then we get to the part where he says I have waited long enough. Is there a magic amount that qualifies as "enough"? How did he get to be the one to decide? Why did he blast me when I'd waited what I thought was a reasonable amount of time to ask about things? He is so strange. Do you like the part where he's "pushing" and "hounding" the state about processing the ? How does one go about pushing and hounding an automatic system? That part totally cracks me up. It's like he wants credit for being diligent in fixing a problem that he, himself, created by not freaking paying his child support. He says he is truly sorry and I agree. He is truly sorry.

So now, once again, I'm pretty sure I do not qualify to join the kind bloggers. What do you think? Could I still post that badge even after venting about how fed up I get with Mr. Tapioca? And the pope?! Would it hurt his feelings to find out that he's scary and looks like Snow Miser? Oh, I will NEVER qualify for that pretty flower! Damn it!

Peace.

In Which Life Is Weird And Lilymane Turns Out To Be Not Nice Despite Some Serious Effort

First - a shout out to St. Ann - who spent yesterday morning in lockdown in her own home because a gunman shot at cops in her neighborhood. Y'all ok??

Second - a Tapioca Report. I have tried not to say anything about the man recently because...really? Who wants to hear me rant like a crazy person? I did manage to have a civil conversation with him a couple of days ago - but it was through sheer will power. He called me to ask me how "we" should "handle" Christmas. By this, he specifically wanted to talk about things like did we want to do Christmas stockings and Santa gifts at both houses or did "we" think that since the kids were with him for Christmas Eve that he would just do all that. He also asked what size coats the kids wear because his mother is getting them winter coats for their visit to Ohio (<-first I'd heard about an out of state visit btw).

Now, for any new readers, these might sound like reasonable things for divorced parents to talk about. But we've been divorced for FIVE years! This is not a new situation - this concept of Christmas being celebrated in two separate households! I told him (without a hint of sarcasm or snarkiness) that I thought we should do things exactly the way we've done them before (please note that I used the word "before", not the phrase "for the last FIVE years". I want extra credit for that because it took a LOT of will power not to give him some clue as to how ridiculous I think he is for bringing this up now.) I told him that the years he had the boys for Christmas I didn't hang stockings but that Santa did leave one present here for each of the kids because Santa understood that both parents enjoyed the spirit of Christmas and wanted to share it with their children.

As for the coats?? (Oh, there is so much passive-aggressive bull shit back story here with the winter coat situation that it would take me hours to go into it all and you would be shocked by his pettiness and also? Bored stupid. So. I'm not going to go into it other than to say this is the very top layer. Yes, the boys need new winter coats. I had, indeed, planned on getting them coats sooner - but not getting a penny in child support since OCTOBER has made that trickier to figure out. See how good I've been about not ranting about him since that icky day in court? I don't think I've mentioned it even though it's been totally stressful - but he's paid NO CHILD SUPPORT. He blames it on paperwork and the new job, the mail through the holidays, the check's in the mail - blah, blah, blah - but no pennies - not one since the month that begins with "O"!) But back to to answering his question about what size coats they wear... Hmmm. First of all, I have to admit that he had left a voice mail message asking this question last week.

• Relevant Point One - His message actually didn't even ask me - it more stated that he "needed" me to do him a favor if I would and send him an email with their coat sizes.
  
• Relevant Point Two - He left me this message about an hour after he dropped the kids off after having had them for the whole weekend. How hard would it have been for him to take 10 seconds out of the two days he had them to check their sizes?
  
• Completely Irrelevant and Snarky Point One - For a man who insists (while managing simulaneously to clench his teeth, growl at me, AND sneer) that he's a father 24/7, 365 days a year - he sure doesn't seem to want to do some basic, you know, parenting things.
  

I had not answered his voicemail or sent him an email. (Are you kidding? I'm not going to go out of my way to answer questions that cross healthy parenting boundaries and I'm also not going to spend energy calling/writing him to tell him I'm not going to answer - because that would be picking a fight.) I just let it slide on by and figured he would decide to do what he should have done in the first place - and that is FIGURE IT OUT ON HIS OWN. But he didn't do that. Natch. He waited until he had a whole series of ridiculously stupid things to ask me about and called again which bring us back to where I'm talking to him civilly on the phone. We'd gotten to the part about his mother getting them coats for a trip I hadn't heard about yet.

Right...I get more extra credit here!! Someone's keeping track of this, right?? I did not say - you are required to give me notice about taking the children out of state. I did not say - Fool, I purposefully didn't answer your question earlier in hopes that you'd do some parenting. I do have to admit that I answered his question about their coat sizes by saying that their coat sizes were the same as their clothing sizes (<-which while true, was also passive-aggressive on my part. I hate it when he's that way with me and I've worked very hard in therapy to learn how not to respond back in the same vein, but rats! Sometimes it slips out before I can see it for what it is! So minus one extra credit point for me.) But then I earned it right back! When he said he hadn't the foggiest idea what size clothes the kids wore, I did NOT say "Duh" or point out that this didn't square with his claim of having bought clothes for the children recently. I just told him what sizes they wore. I also told him that I had gotten them new coats for Christmas (without saying "I had to borrow money to do it because you lied about sending the child support") and I offered to have the children open them early so they could have them on the trip. He told me he'd prefer if they left those coats here. Ok.

Then (since it would save me an hour or two at the keyboard sending him an email I'd been meaning to write for two days anyway) I brought up two parenting issues of my own, both of which concern Mayhem. I'll probably say more about them later - but the point here is that in both instances, my ex belittled my decision (and Mayhem's own request!) to go see some specialists. In one instance, Mr. Tapioca Head even said that he would "insist" on a second opinion if a certain diagnosis came back. I kept my inner shrew firmly in check and refused to get caught up in his adversarial pattern. When that didn't get a rise out of me, he brought up something he should have told me about weeks ago when it happened. I seethed inside, wrote a note to myself to check in with my kid about how he was doing about it, and politely ended the conversation with my ex. I had to spend about tweny minutes after that call reminding myself why I work so very hard to keep myself from calling him on out on this stuff. Oh right - I refuse to spar with him because if I say anything it makes it WORSE for my kids - no matter how right I am and how very wrong he is. If I say anything, he makes life worse for my kids. If they were in immediate, concrete danger from my ex? I'd have them away from him in a heart beat and the law would be on my side. But the fact that I think they're being emotionally poisoned by him in a long-term kind of way? Turns out, he has a legal right to do that. The only strategy I have is to try to make them immune to his toxicity by empowering and strengthening my kids the best way I know how. And "the best way I know how" includes never, ever, ever saying anything negative to my kids about their father. It also includes not making it worse for them by getting suckered into unhealthy and pointless fights with him. That's the heart of it. It sucks. I hate it. I long to call him all the names in the book. The Mama Lion part of me wants to fight back! I get so tired - achingly tired from holding back. It takes more effort than I imagined to side step his confrontational ickiness. But I would do anything for my kids. Anything. Even co-parenting with integrity and civility in the face of dishonesty and bullying. Soooooo. That's where I was on Monday.

This morning he called at 6:30. He's in the hospital. In Michigan. He's not sure they'll release him in time for him to get back here to get the boys for the weekend. What's wrong? Diabetes and pancreatitis. "I didn't know you were diabetic," I said. "Neither did I," he said. "But my blood sugar is 300." (I don't know anything about blood sugar numbers but I'm assuming from the way he said it that that's pretty bad.)

I wish I could say that deep down, I'm a genuinely and wholly, nice person - but as it happens, I think I must not be. I had mixed feelings about all this. I am sorry he is sick and in pain. I don't think anyone "deserves" that - even criminals and other people quantitatively ickier than my ex. But there were certainly other thoughts in my head and my heart besides worry/concern for him. For instance, I thought, "Well, that means the boys will get to help pick out and decorate the Christmas tree this weekend. Yay!" An even less nice thought was, "What are the odds he will listen to the doctors this time?" (You see - six years ago - in the middle of the divorce - I had a chance to go to San Diego for a mini vacation and he was to stay with the boys. I was gone about 10 hours before my mother called me and said I had to come right back because he was in the hospital with pancreatitis. The only bright spot in a very, very dark time and he managed to squash it, too. On top of that - pancreatitis is a terrible thing, painful and horrible - but there are many things a patient can do to prevent another bout - like diet changes, exercise, etc. Did he change a single thing when he got out of the hospital? Not one.)

I am going to admit another thought that went through my head - and this one is even worse than my less-than-nice thought! I thought, "What is the likelihood that he's up to date on his life insurance?" (<--He is required by law to maintain life insurance for the security of his children but it has been a bone of contention - big time - because he has not maintained it. Apparently if he's not here to get "credit" for being a "father 24/7, 365 days a year" then he doesn't care if his kids are taken care of.) See? I have a heart of darkness. There is a vile streak in me. The man calls me in pain and while I do have a sincere yet slight upswelling of compassion, I mostly have "silver lining" thoughts of spending extra time with my kids and grouchy thoughts about how he could possibly leave his kids in a big lurch permanently!

Arrrgh. I don't want him to be sick. I just want him to move to Mars! Is that too much to ask?
Peace.