The doorbell rings. It's 3:50... ten minutes before the ordered and agreed upon 4pm pick-up time.
Instead of inviting her in to wait, I tell her that I will have to send Cinderella out. It's early and she is still doing her homework.
It's only by like five minutes, She tells me.
Ten minutes according to every clock in our Home but I decide that I am not going to engage in this debate with Her.
Thankfully She let's it drop and changes the subject.
Did you get my message yesterday?
Yes. I was feeding The Baby and wasn't expecting your call so I didn't get your message right away.
I was partially telling her the Truth.
What I neglected to tell her was that I had called The Husband after listening to her message.
Any idea why she called me?
Yeah. She had asked if she could pick Cinderella up early on Mondays and I told her we would have to Play It By Ear. Don’t call her back. I will take care of it.
Does that mean you will call her?
No. It’s not necessary. Let her come at her regular time.
ExWife is attempting to manipulate the custody schedule and take advantage of The Husband again.
Or should I say STILL.
I start re-playing the last 6 years in my head where ExWife did everything in her power to manipulate the custody schedule, and life in general, to her advantage and in so doing begin to feel my old familiar friend -ANGER- rear its ugly head.
ExWife lives in her own reality. Oftentimes I am envious of her ability to create this perfect fantasy inside her own head where all is right with the world, she is in charge, and The Husband is here to do her bidding. I wish I was able to escape to my own Shangri-La most often when having to face the reality of life with her delusions.
In her World The Husband suggesting they Play It By Ear means it's ok for her to implement this proposed change right now. She tells me as much.
We decided that I would call you every Monday at 3:45 to see if Cinderella was close to finishing her homework so I might pick her up early.
I determine that by “We” she means the Voices in her head but keep that thought to myself as I am in no doubt that it would not be received well if I were to express it.
Every week since the Custody Case has been "settled" ExWife has made a request to alter the pick-up/drop-off time in some way.
5 minutes here. 15 minutes there.
Husband is losing control over the situation and the Control-Freak in me feels this overwhelming need to point it out so that he may put a stop to it before it goes any further.
She doesn’t get that she has lost custody for a reason.
She doesn't get that she.lost.custody.
I am fearful that The Husband has failed to learn the lessons of history thereby dooming our Family to continue to suffer at the hands of a delusional lunatic person who just.doesn’t.get.it.
Husband admits to needing some help in establishing the boundaries. He lacks the finesse required to have a firm hand with ExWife while not undermining their attempts at communicating.
Husband needs me to be more supportive. I need him to be more assertive.
No doubt the way with which I expressed this need was not the most effective. My anger and frustration got the better of me putting him on the defensive.
I am trying to pick my battles. And I can't battle with You and ExWife at the same time.
I need you to support me and trust that I am making the best decisions for everyone.
Back to 2001. It's deja-vu all over again.
It's times like these that I wish I could be more like the comedian Steven Wright and suffer from amnesia and deja-vu at the same time.
Today I want you guys to play outside.
YEAH! Thank You!
I stare at their faces with disbelief. I am shocked over their combination of shock and extreme jubilation.
Suddenly I realize that not only have I been relying too much on the Electronic Babysitter since the birth of The Mouse, but that I have been doing so unnecessarily.
The Boy and Cinderella albeit all-too-willing to zone out in front of the Boob Tube have not only forgotten about the joys of fresh air and sunshine but are also under the impression that they are not allowed to play outside.
Is it because of the colder winter temps and the lack of snow to lure them into the outdoors.
More likely I fear it my fault. That somehow in my post-partum dementia recovery I have given them the impression that they are not allowed to do anything fun because if Momma ain't sedated happy ain't Nobody happy.
I remind them that they can always play outside when the weather is nice.
Except when it's snowing.
Cinderella likes to chime in whenever we dispense parental orders guidelines.
Again the Shock comes.
Who are you and what have you done with our children.
What have we done to deter you from expecting what is your god.given.right.as.children.on.this.planet to be able to do the Very thing that makes winter exciting and bearable.
What's the freaking point of having winter anyway if there is no Snow and nobody to play with it in.
No, Cinderella. You are allowed to play outside in the snow too. COOL!Tomorrow I decide that these kids are going to get so much outside time that they are going to OD on it and beg me to stay indoors until Spring. Today, they are going to get a healthy dose of the Olympics and see what winter fun is all about.
Today my teacher told me The Boy is only my Half-Brother.
It was as much a statement as it was a question.
Cinderella was attending a group organized by her school for children of divorce and the dipshit social worker in charge took it upon herself to correct Cinderella's vocabulary after she proudly gushed to the group about her Little Brother.
Only.Her.Half.Brother.
I was as shocked as she was.
I had forgotten.
Forgotten that they were technically half-siblings.
Forgotten that some people might try to point out this difference.
Forgotten how the monikers given to blended families can negatively influence one's feelings.
Half-Brother.
Stepdaughter.
S.T.E.P.M.O.T.H.E.R.
Just as our relationship has sometimes been affected by our respective labels, Cinderella's relationship with The Boy was now being challenged. Her loyalty being brought into question by a label meant to distiguish between stepchildren and their post-divorce-remarriage siblings.
This label was never a part of our vocabulary. Not once did it ever enter our thoughts or Hearts.
The Boy is Cinderella's Brother. She is his Sister.
Now thanks to a support group meant to HELP HER she was hurt and had to come to me for reassurance. And an explanation.
She needed to know why she had never heard this term before.
She needed to know that being her half-brother didn't mean that she now had to love The Boy only half as much.
Other people might call The Boy your half-brother, I tell her but in our Home and in our Hearts you both are Brother and Sister. There is no difference.
Or is there?
Mommy, it's boring being stuck here with You and The Mouse all day.
His words catch me by surprise... their honesty stinging me to the core.
I try not to react but after the sixth time of him making this statement I find it difficult to ignore.
Please don't say that. It hurts Mommy's feelings.
But Mommy, it's boring being stuck here all day with you.
Not 3 weeks ago, I enjoyed marveling along with his pediatrician about how articulate The Boy is for 3 1/2 and now I find myself wishing he lacked the ability to express his feelings so openly.
The guilt and anger start to bubble up.
I am beginning to realize the true impact of Cinderella's custody trial.
It has in many ways left us crippled, both financially and emotionally.
We cannot afford to send The Boy to preschool but it was decided by the Lawyers in the custody case that my husband CAN afford $500 for Cinderella's summer camp.
We'll waive $500 from our bill so she can go to the camp, The-Powers-That-Be tell my husband. That $500 which covers only two weeks of camp would have paid for 2 1/2 months of preschool or a myriad of other bills (like the running tab at several therapists).
The Judge or the Lawyers don't care about that, He tells me.
They may not, but I do.
It doesn't matter. This isn't about us or The Boy.
Isn't it?
We're not a Family of One. We are a family of Five.
Cinderella is the primary focus but her Brother and the rest of her Family are affected by the decisions being made for her benefit.
The Boy has lost out on a needed educational opportunity in exchange for the luxury of an extracurricular activity which doesn't start for another 5 months.
He must spend his days at home while his Mommy struggles to befriend the Enemy and let go of the anger, adjust to a new custody routine and juggle having 3 children at home full-time, while also trying to provide an enriching environment that stimulates his intellect because she is feeling guilty of neglecting his developmental needs.
The guilt brings on the anger which I am trying so desperately to overcome.
The costs associated with a bitter custody case run deep. The question still remains, how deep do my emotional pockets run?
"Mommy, look at my fingers!""Yes. They are all wrinkly from your bath.""Why?""Because that's what happens when you take long baths.""Is that the water's job, Mommy? To make childrens' skin all wrinkly?"
