A World without Antidepressants

Sounds grim; I know.

Years ago I slid off the rails for a moment in time and went out with total dick.  Actually he was a private eye, so dick by occupation, dick by nature; and let’s face it; you have to have a ‘creepy stalker’ gene to get such a gig.

I went to therapy during the five years we dated because I needed to find the root cause...   He really didn’t feature in my sessions as anything other than a shadowy representation of my love life to that point.  It wasn’t about him, or those before him.  It was about me.  I needed to understand what was inside me that kept dragging me back into unhealthy relationships.

Did I find the answer?  Not really.  I felt like I had come to an understanding; maybe.  In the end, what did that knowledge change?  Contrary to popular belief, you don’t suddenly discover the cause and from that moment on, you’re just skipping down the path of life, carefree and laughing.

Oh.  Nor did I require antidepressants to escape that hellish relationship.  I use the term as a heading only to set the scene!  So I’m not swallowing handfuls of pills – at least not any more than those I should be having (which would appear to grow by several every year as your knees give out and your back starts to ache).  I’m not slashing my wrists or crying into my cups every night; yet something isn’t right.  Something is niggling at me.   A requirement for my good mental health is missing!

It is the evolution of care.

You meet someone and so begins the evolution.  “Friendship” moves into “hot”; “hot” morphs into a warmer “love”.  That “love” means you “care” a great deal about that person.  You want them to be happy; you go out of your way to ensure that happiness!  If they are not absolutely blissful, then you’re in serious trouble.  The relationship is floundering!

And therein lies my problem.  I evolved.  I morphed.  The Squeeze is still in the same place he began.
 

If you snap back through hundreds of blog entries, you’ll see that early on in the piece, I lamented the fact that the Squeeze uses a totem pole of “importance” as his internal/moral barometer.  Time has passed; we are living together... A family; yet it would appear that the totem pole has not altered.  This basically means that I come in last.  My problems are addressed last, and only if they don’t affect the problems of kids/ex-wife/family.

Well Hell, shouldn’t I have made it up the pole by now?

Let’s look at it rationally; (or as rationally as I get I suppose…)  The other night he mentioned that every night I begin a conversation that has something to do with the ex-wife/kid/kids.  Of course he was exaggerating and I don’t consider “any news from the Harridan..?” to be a “conversation” – but in some ways, he was correct.  She is often between us.

What the Hell does he expect?  We argue over her telling us that the kid is staying all of next week.  He sends a text to say “yeah. At your place” – but gets no reply and gives no follow up.  That’s not organised!  That is leaving a loop hole!  A slither of opportunity for her to seep through!  So I live on edge – until it is “organised”, I worry what is coming at us next…  So I ask!

It seems pretty reasonable to me.  I’ve said from the start – this is what I need to be able to make this work.  Much of those requirements laid out at the outset have not eventuated.  I’m not sure if he figured I’d just forget about them (in a pig’s eye) or perhaps if he ignored them long enough, I’d get tired of asking/whining/complaining.  (Yeah, good strategy…)

This morning, for about the millionth time over the last couple of years, I walked into the bathroom, picked up the bath mat, folded it and hung it up to dry – in the very same place he retrieved it from.  The very same place he has retrieved it from for approximately three years.  Yet it doesn't seem to have sunk into his grey matter that the bath mat seems to dry better hanging up; and even if it doesn't, the witch he is living with prefers it that way!

Same with the kid; I try to discuss work arounds but there just isn’t anything coming back at me.  Agreement followed by reneging   Then while hunting around for a birthday present for the Squeeze this afternoon, I realised what the problem was.

I care.  I love.

And his meter is set to zero.  Worse than zero!  It's in the negative!

If I had to pick a song that was him... It would be Running On Empty! - Because there ain't nothing there!

Deep Impact

It feels as though I am repeatedly being called upon to explain what “impact” having the kid has on me.

This proves to be most difficult given that most of my grievances are around hygiene, or lack thereof.  How do I explain that where I come from, people are clean; in fact some of us possess serial killer neatness!  No one smells; we wash our hair, our clothes, our hands! 

I didn’t have to tell my kids to have a shower or wash their hair; they just knew and understood it was a requirement.  And let’s cut to the chase here; if I had to tell them to clean up their act, I simply told them.  I’m not afforded this luxury in this environment where the Squeeze sees his kid as miraculous!  Amazing!  And he can do no wrong…  

Although mummy and daddy adopt the ‘velvet wearing’ parenting process of “they must always feel good about themselves… look how perfect they are….” The realities of life seem to get in the way.  I mean hell, idiots… Wake up!  Your kid is not perfect.  Nor are any of mine.  They are kids, accept it.  Sheesh.  I don’t need a musician!  All I need is for them to be happy.  And let’s be honest, I have shaken my head on many occasion wondering how anyone can feel good about themselves when they have greasy hair speckled with dandruff and their clothes reek.

This is the crux of the problem between the Squeeze and I; will forever be the major issue and one I begrudge more and more as time goes on.  I get zero support from him; have no power and no say over the kid.  What I consider right doesn’t count.  What I consider ‘ugly’ isn’t my problem or place to comment.

Right… So some kid is coming and going from my lovely clean home – and I’m to have no power over this.  I can’t say “hey kid, you’re fifteen for crying out loud; pack some damned clean clothes to bring!”  The one time I did have this discussion, I was given a heap of fifteen year old “I am smarter than you” drivel that encompassed an argument around my clean clothes requirement being my reality, not his. 

A discussion with the Squeeze after the fact consisted of an inadequate “he handled himself well.”  Ummm no.  He didn’t handle himself well.  He was rude, obnoxious and above all – wrong.  And if being rude to me is considered “handling himself well”; how am I to ever deal with it?

Last night I broached the subject of his reorganised weekends (at her request); which was obviously above his negotiation skills because not only did he ensure that we extended kid time last weekend – he had now given over a night from our next weekend. 

To be frank, this does not suit me.

What I got was another argument on impact and its lack thereof, on me.  His dispute is that we are now getting Saturday, Sunday, Monday night free.  Ummm no.  Sunday and Monday nights are already free – just because I have the day off doesn’t necessarily mean it’s up for grabs by the kid pushers.  It is free.  It is mine.

In the end, I realised that I shouldn’t have to justify myself.  The reality is that I do not want a kid there every weekend and that is enough justification.

What impact is there on me when the kid is there..?  Well considering I’m a lone little figure facing off a damned tsunami – I’d say it is has a ‘deep impact’.

We Never Have Him!!!

We Never Have Him!!!  We've only had him once this month!

That is the argument I get when I put up a fuss re the kid coming unexpectedly or without my being asked or if we are arguing because I’ve had enough and determined to put my foot down.  

Then we move into 'wheedling' – like this weekend.  We had a screaming row that ended at: ‘I’m moving out (again)’ stupid Moodle.  Re today, I got “he will be gone first thing in the morning!  He’s going over to a friend’s place to watch old Bogart movies!”
Hmm.  What friend would that be..?
Where did this new found friend come from?  And Bogart movies..?
Strange; still, I guess any friend is good, even if it is a weirdo one.

But of course the friend and movie was cancelled…  Yay.  So instead, I’ve just done the whole weekend AGAIN!  In fact this month there is not one weekend that has/will be kid free.  Not one.

Now why the hell would anyone figure that I’d want to give up every weekend to have someone else’s kid?  Worse, someone’s kid who is lazy; that I'm not permitted to yell at as I would my kids.  And I always have ten times extra work when he leaves – including mopping up spilled chocolate milk from the floor and wiping down my fricking fridge because the handle is oh so obviously there for show.  I’m not even going to talk about the toilet floor or washing!

Add to this, that I have to hear the Squeeze say “Come on! Come on! Come on!” repeatedly.  To the point where I’m almost ready to bust my spleen!  It doesn’t take a mental giant to work it out!!!!  Take his laptop off him until he has done as asked instead of repeatedly asking!

And he wonders why I jack up.  Why I’m being so 'unfair'…  

And then we add to all the other pleasantries the fact that the lazy biach sent him packed for a wedding with no shirt and a pair of pants screwed up into a ball.  I tried to iron them but the stench that came off them made me swoon.  I had no time left to wash them so instead, the Squeeze had to stand and hold them out while I sprayed them with Frebreeze before he hung them on the line.  I didn't even attempt to iron them again.

I’d rather be staked to an ants nest than to have ever let my kids leave the house like that; but then again, I guess my EVERYTHING wasn't about them...

Anyhow – here is the month. 

Legend:

Red = kid days – including days where the Squeeze picks him up for dinner and a movie. 

Orange is her demanding we have him – or rather her “kid wants to stay with his dad…” texts.  (yeah, sure he does…)  Please note:  he has agreed to these days on the proviso it is at her place.

Purple is when I have extra days off.

Green are things that we get to do something - and more than likely, certainly not on our own.
I cut Monday off to fit since there was nothing on it :-)

Yeah.  I never have the kid!

Kramer vs Kramer

No.  I’m not writing about that old movie…  There is no tear jerk at the end of this story.

Instead, I’m writing about the weekend.  The Squeeze instructed that me that I was to have no opinion; he would talk to the kid and suggest he washed his hair, this time with shampoo.  (Perhaps you remember, he had to talk to him, I was to remain silent - in case I trampled on his fragile self esteem.)

Still, I could only imagine his moodle-like, gently-gently, velvet wearing discussion.  I mean why go with totally honesty when you can moodle around his fifteen year old feelings…?  Yeah.  Stuff that.  When the kid waltzed out to kitchen to ask what time breakfast would be ready, I told him that breakfast would happen after he had a shower and washed his hair.

Actually, I said “my eyes are bleeding with the stench of your head.  Wash it already!  This time, use shampoo!!!”  Frankly, I think he would have been too scared not too.

When he came out for breakfast, I noted that his hair looked clean, but somewhat fluffy.  He mentioned that washing it gave it an “old lady hair” visual.  I’m not fond of “old lady” style but Hell, that is better than making everyone’s eyes bleed.

Actually, he looked a little like Kramer; or some other weirdo with that fluffy bit on the top of their head.  But there is more than one way to skin a cat and if his moronic parents had an ounce of brain between them, they’d have instructed him to curb the Kramer hair in a way that didn’t ensure he had zippo friends via killing them off with a stench that could curdle cream.

Yesterday, I purchased him some good old fashioned hair fudge.

Now how fricking hard is that..?

Your Moving Out Today

‘Don’t you tell him.  I will.’

That was what I was told re the hair washing last weekend.  Funny really, since I’m the one that is doing the washing.  I’m the one having to leave a room due to the vile smell permeating the air.  I’m the one washing his stuff and hanging it out.  I’m the one bringing it in and folding it.  I’m the one airing the room and changing the bed.  I’m the one that has the kid every second weekend – but I’m also the one who isn’t allowed to actually tell him to do anything.

Not sure how the hell that is supposed to work and I guess at the end of the day… It isn’t.

I resent it.  I resent the fact that he wants him here all the time when I can’t and don’t.  I resent the fact that it doesn’t seem to matter what I want.  I resent the fact that he doesn’t seem to need 'date' time with me, or need to spend time 'out' with me.  I resent the fact that he just keeps making decisions that impact me – and I’m supposed to “suck it up my darling”.

More than anything, I resent the fact that I truly loved him; but his utter selfishness is sucking the life out of me.  His inability to see that I want and need things, is slowly eradicating what I felt to the point where I looked at him tonight and I hated him.  As it was, I screamed at him.  When he mentioned I should stop shouting I think I shouted "I obviously have to shout!  You're too damned stupid to understand otherwise!!!"

This evening; at my prompting, he finally called the Harridan to organise the week he is available to baby sit the kid, but at her house.  Him putting off calling makes me feel uneasy that it will happen and I will have no say in it.  I'll have four days off and three of those will be in babysitting land.  And when it all comes down to it, I am organised and I assume that even if she isn't, he still owes it to her to give her time to attempt to organise herself around it.  Instead he organised that will have the kid this Saturday night to go to a wedding.  Yes, I knew the kid was on the invite but I figured as it was not our weekend and he had done nothing about swapping, that maybe it would be just us two.  Great, we could get dressed up, go out and have fun, have a bit of romance…  Romance.  Yeah.  Like that was every likely.

So instead, I am to have another person in my small house again this weekend.  24/7 television.  Yeah!  Just like I did last weekend.  And this one would be followed by the next weekend – kid again.  Then the week – kid again.  Then the weekend – kid again.

And I don’t want it.  I never wanted that.  It's not about the kid.  It's not about the Squeeze.  It's not even about the Harridan.  It's about me and my need for some time out... some space... some consider-fricking-ation!

And I won’t do it.  How can I when I can’t even tell him to wash his stinking hair..? 

This is not working for me.  I don’t think I love him enough to put up with it.  I don't think I ever loved anyone enough to endure this!  I loved him so damned much once, but I’m sick of always being last on the totem pole.  How can it work when I am forced to have the same argument all the time..?  We talk, I think he see's my  point of view, only to discover he is obviously mentally impaired because he didn't take any of it in!  Last time, I documented it.  All I got when I bought that up last night was "but that is all about what you want!!!"  Oh how quickly we forget that every second frigging weekend is not what "I WANT!"  I do that for him.  That is strictly a "for him" gig.  So given that every second weekend of my life is gone, and has been for years, I'm entitled to put my foot down on a few areas!

This time when he got to his usual threat of:  “I’ll move out.”; I realised that this time – he f*cking can.  Because I’m over it.

“So….  Pack up your dirty books:  Your Moving Out Today

Manky: Foul, putrid, crawling, nasty, odiferous.

This is how my spare bedroom smells today on night two of a kid weekend.   Yesterday I wondered, just briefly, if I had jumped to conclusions when I saw the shampoo bottle was unopened and as dry as a bone.  Maybe my “father was a detective” skills had diminished over the years.

But no; the reality of it is that I am James fricking Bond. 

No way did that kid put anything on his revolting, manky head; and the stench permeates the air of any room he is in!  I had to open the front door to air out the lounge which is relatively open.  The closed bedroom basically made my skin burn and my eyes bleed.

It is gag worthy.   Putrid is being kind.   A dead thing would smell better than that.  The kid needs a bath, lye soap, a scrubbing brush!

And I’m angry.   Really angry. 

The Squeeze is back to “I can’t smell anything…”  This could be because the tosser has been off all day with the kid so is just immune to it; and when I got home later the pair of them are sitting in the lounge, laptops on knees, television blaring.  No one thought about putting dishes away or bringing in the washing.  Lazy gits.

So.  He can’t smell anything.  That is probably good because if the smell has seeped into his pores after sitting in a closed room with that smell all night, he’ll be sleeping in there with him!

These people are slothful and selfish.  For the life of me, I can’t work out how to address it; given that his mother is a complete moron and his father is a delusional moodle.

All I know is that I am seriously not putting up with it.

I’m going to wash that kid right out of my hair…

The Squeeze and I remain on tender hooks.  Not overtly; but it’s there – just under the surface.

I don’t see another way really, until the kids are in their 40’s and she can no longer use them to beat him around the head with.  We are who we are at this stage in our lives.  I need things in stone, organised and planned.  He would rather delay the inevitable.  So I ask.  And ask.  And ask.  Seems relatively simple to me; the only thing achieved with his delay, is stress and angst within our relationship and maybe a couple of days delay of the Harridan abuse.

What are we arguing about…?  Although we have discussed and compromised (and documented it!); it would appear that I will continue to be besieged by the witch tossing the kid at my head.  In the first twenty days of November, we have been instructed to have him for twelve days.  This doesn't take into consideration that one of the eight free days is the Squeeze's birthday, which will be kidded up I assume!

This would be easier to deal with if she would address some of the issues.  I say easier, although that is still a damned site more time than I would like with someone else in my environment.  And she won't deal with the issues of course since she considers our issues are actually about “your stupid ideas on hygiene”.

Ummm yeah.  Filthy clothes and lank, dandruff filled hair is just about me being a clean freak...

And after a lifetime of learning that clothes don’t need washing… nor do you need to shower or brush your teeth, it’s hard work attempting to steer him back to a reasonable direction.  We have attempted to combat her obvious slovenliness.   The kid is instructed to hit the shower five minutes after arriving.  I slink in before he arrives to remove my paraphernalia, leaving only a bottle of shampoo that can’t be missed.  Of course he ignores this request and comes out with wet hair that still looks dull and lank.  While grabbing the towel, I check and the bottle remains closed and dry.

Okay.  An aversion to soap, toothpaste and shampoo!  Weird really, since having clean hair feels so damned nice!

So I reiterate the discussion we have had on fairness to all parties and state that the week she has instructed us to have the kid, I have already taken two days off for us to go away on a four day weekend with the new car.  Given that last month we went to Greece, I am fine with him vetoing our weekend away and spending more time with the kid – but as per our agreement, he has to do so at the witches’ house.

And I have no intention of being railroaded so he better come home today having seen her at kid cricket and tell me he has given her the options we are willing to work with!  I'm happy to spend my four days off in relative silence; new car to cruise around in and hitting the keyboard to write...

Will he have told her...?  Not a chance.

DO YOU WANT TO SORT THIS OUT IN COURT?

Okay…  To tell the truth, I wasn’t actually sure what the hell the reference to court and sorting was about.  I’ll admit that.  I mean the Squeeze went off to take the Kid out for dinner and I’m home alone; so figured I’d blog.  Where else am I going to get “blog fodder” from if I can cut and paste her usual illiterate rants..?

So I jumped on the Squeeze’s computer to see exactly what drivel she had written as a demand this time – and I wasn’t disappointed.

In short, the highlights of the too and from were:

1. First we had her usual fourteen year old tantrum of “aren’t you allowed to have him for a week?”
2. Then, it would appear that she has organised the kid to go across town to her velvet wearing sister’s place on our Friday night and the Squeeze dared to mention that this was in fact, our weekend.
3. Then it was telling him that we would have the kid for a week while she is away.  Not can we.  But we will.
4. Then it was alluding to his utter selfishness; because we went to Greece for a month without telling her.  And it is always about us.  Unlike her, her 'everything' is about the kid.
5. Then it was the court line; all in red capitals – which you just know is yelling.

Well I have to say that it took every ounce of my will not to hit reply and call and spade a spade…

These are my wishful answers to the witch:

1. Yes.  He is allowed to have him for a week.  At your place, not mine.  I have plans that week and have already scheduled time off.  Plans… yes I know the word is alien to you, but some of us make them.  And my plans do not include having your kid just because you demand it.  Perhaps things would go a little more smoothly if you stayed home every so often to do a load of fricking washing instead of sending him out in clothes that could stand up on their own.  Sorry, but I don’t want to gag in my own home – and I’m sure as hell not doing it for a week.
2. We are fine with the Kid going off to your velvet wearing sister and her "you are perfect” brats.  Last time the younger one stole $50 from him which was infinitely better than the one I once heard being cruel and sarcastic to him - which earned him my never ending loathing.  Fine with him going.  Having said that, you can have him dropped off at our home the next morning, since you have organised it.
3. See answer 1 but add a whole other layer on top of it.  The layer of dislike.  In case you missed it, I don't like you.  You are a greedy, selfish, lying, vitriolic bitch – so I'd rather let scorpions have free rein on my head than assist you in any way.



4. For the last time; it doesn't matter how many times you say it - history does not change.  You can't will it to alter.  There is no "mind control" at work here.  You don't have super powers idiot!  That said, we went to Greece for 3 weeks - not 4 or 5 weeks.  You had plenty of notice.  We have been together for 3+ years and that 3 weeks was the first time we had been away on our own.  The Earth didn’t stop turning; no one died.  And maybe we should clarify a few things...  I mean you went away with the kid for longer than that at Christmas – without consultation.  Then extended it to take in Bali – with no consultation.  How come he can so easily survive without dad then..?
5. Do I want to see it in court..?  Oh God.  Yes please.  Bring it.  BRING IT!  I raised 2 children without one weekend off from my ex-husband who lived interstate!  I got $60 per month for 16 years.  The first 2 years I got the princely sum of $25.  And yes, that was through the legal process!  You have no freaking idea how good you have it!  And out of curiosity, what do you think a judge is going to do..?  Tell us that we must have the kid any time you decree it?  Like we have no say over our lives and home??  And while there, maybe we’ll mention the fact that the Squeeze pays above and beyond in maintenance.  And that he pays school fees and music and sport on top of that; but that didn't stop you changing his school without ANY DISCUSSION!   And then we’ll add to that the fact that you moved houses – WITHOUT ANY DISCUSSION – and then instructed the kids to LIE to their father; that they weren’t allowed to tell him where they lived!   And maybe then we’ll tell him how the kid gets sick and you refuse to allow him to have antibiotics.  That you let him limp around with a toe so badly infected I’m surprised it wasn’t gangrenous!   And then we’ll tell the truth; how on average, the Squeeze see’s the kid at least 2 times a week and what he gets for that is rants and abuse and threats – continuously!  And the final comment will be how you earn the same as he, yet rent out a house and an apartment – not pausing to pay tax I’m sure – and yet you are on his case all the time for MORE!  Like the selfish greedy cow that you are!

Hmm.  Yep.  Lucky I’m not answering the email for him.

Rules of Engagement

It seems that he Squeeze just doesn’t quite get things on the initial take; or the four or five times after that either…

After our blow up the other week (and his minor tantrum of moving out) we discussed, negotiated, did a little more talking and then I typed up the “rules of engagement” (actually, I called it the “Harmony Convention” because without rules there is no damned harmony!)

Our first test of the water was on Sunday…  How did we go..?  Fail.   The Harridan can’t work a calendar; nor could she organise a beer in a brewery it would seem.  When mix-ups are proven to be attributed to her; she reverts to lies, threats and insults.

So the washout was that the Squeeze was off gadding about with the Kid all Sunday on a “Harrdan” weekend and then instead of giving me a ‘risky business’ moment on Sunday night by staying in the slovenly house; he returned, shaking his head amid the confusion of the Harridan telling him “don’t enter my house!!”

Then last night I get “the Harridan wants us to have the kid for a week in November.

WTF?  Please note: it is not an emergency, nor is it school holidays – so the rules of engagement are on the Harmony Convention.

So yeah.  Sure.  She’s given notice, now he has to either put in for the week off and find a place to take the kid camping; or alternatively – stay at the Harridan’s house (given the last attempt at this, I don’t see that boding well for him). 

Of course if she is talking about the first week in November she’s out of luck anyhow since I’d already talked about us taking my new car for a couple of nights down the coast!

Exploding Head

Tonight while google-ing and contemplating what picture would do my blog topic justice, I came across an interesting blog on a trifecta.  No…  It wasn’t about racing.  It was about a three way relationship and the love and pitfalls that would appear to be inherent with such a thing.

Personally, I can’t see the appeal.  There is always ‘one’ going to feel pain.  It’s like an episode of “Big Love” – Wife 2 and 3 bitch and whine because Wife 1 has all the power.  She is the first wife.  She has the ring, the security…  Hell, it would suck to be anyone other than Wife 1.

Anyhow, what I was searching for in Google images was an “exploding head”…  Perhaps that I found it on the big love blog (not that it was called that…) is an indication of how that is working out for them.

But back to my issues…

Weirdly, I was kind of looking forward to a night on my own.

That isn’t anything against or about the Squeeze; I love him, love being with him.  It’s just that sometimes silence really is delicious; and I can crave it as much as chocolate.  I don’t necessarily have to stuff my face with it; sometimes just a rhapsodic nibble soothes the savage beast.

A lot of planning goes in to a night away.  Anyone reading this who has browsed more than one or two entries on this blog will understand when I say “a lot of planning”, I am without doubt meaning that I am the planner.  So I've had a fair amount of scheduling and just a tiny little dash of concern to deal with.

Planning…  My new car is on order so I’m carless.  As a general rule, come 9pm, one of us will pick up my daughter from work and deposit her at her home.  This is not for her; this is for me.  I can’t stand the stress and worry of thinking about her catching a tram, then a brief walk, then a train, then a brief walk home late on a Sunday night.  This is made worse considering her part time job is in a creepy, loony place where God knows what could follow her home.  To combat this, I booked her a cab online and gave her the money to pay for it.  Yeah.  I know.  She gets four hours minimum wage; costs me sixty bucks.  I may as well have just paid her; but it’s worth it to me to know she’s safe.

Then we had organised that I would have the car tomorrow as I have to leave work early and go to an appointment.  That meant he would have to get up early, come home and get me, where upon I would take him to work, push him out of the car and then slink off to my work.

Suffice to say there has been much discussion to coordinate this – all because the Harridan is up to something and is fobbing the kid off repeatedly.  Still, we kind of managed it.  We were on a path to having it organised.  All the planets aligned…

I had even dealt with the tiny glimmer of unease that my suggestion had been taken on board so effortlessly.  In the end, I figured that my unease was in wondering if I 'should' feel unease.  And in the end, I decided I didn't.  Hell, one cold night in a dirty house should reinforce how nice our home is, so it could really only benefit our relationship.

Then the bitch threw everything to the wind by sending the Squeeze one of her usual, psychotic texts…  'Wot time getting kid And defintely no going into hme' he replied to say "I was under the impression that I was staying the night here with him..." which had her rewriting history again.

To be honest, I figured she would toss a wild card at us but I figured it would be along the lines of not giving the kid a key to the house so forcing our hand to have him here.  In the end, this was the lesser of two evils.  

What planet is this person on; and how do you deal with the insane…?  

 She seriously makes my head explode.

Sleeping at the Hovel

Today I am enjoying the blissful silence of a sparkling clean house and not another person in sight…  No internet; no whining; no noise…  Nada.

As part of our ‘negotiation, the Squeeze picked up Kid 3 and we went out for breakfast to do the family thing.  At the conclusion of this, he and the Kid slunk off to the hovel that is the Harridan’s side of town.  As agreed, he is prepared to look after the kid – but at her house – not mine.

The silence is almost delicious.

I’m going to enjoy seeing how this goes; given that the Squeeze is now a couple of years in to living in a house that is 99% of the time, sparkling…  It doesn’t stink, things are put away, dishes and washing, done. 

And now he’ll be spending the night in clean freak hell – where I’m sure just the stench of it is gag worthy – like my spare room on occasion!  Perhaps he can spend the time doing washing!

I haven’t even put music on.  I’m just enjoying the silence.

You can’t rewrite history for the organised….

This morning I got up and decided that I’d have a look through the calendar/email and see exactly how many times we have had the kid; rather than just run with her "seen him once in 6 weeks" delusional calendar.

The Squeeze is totally disorganised, always has been; so I’ve no doubt that it used to work.  So lacking is he in order or methodical arrangement that he literally handed her his head on a platter.

But hell, don’t even attempt to rewrite history with me – because I’m super organised and I’ll call her on it every time, with dates, emails, phone calls and texts to back it up.

So this morning I sit and work out exactly how many times the Squeeze has seen Kid 3 over the last 6 weeks…

• Wednesday and Thursday night prior to going to Greece, he stayed with us.

• We took him to dinner 3 days after we got home.

• He stayed the Friday and Saturday night the first weekend we were home.

• He was supposed to stay the next Friday and Saturday night but she fobbed us off.

• The Squeeze asked to pick him up and do dinner and a movie last week, but she vetoed it.

• He took him to cricket on Sunday.

• And... he has already arranged to take him to dinner and a movie on Monday night.

So; in what world does that equate to once in 6 weeks???

As for the "fluid kid weekends" before - what changed...”

What changed is that he got a life.  By "fluid", she means that she dictated and he jumped to attention.  She effectively had someone to have the kid whenever she desired; in fact when we started to go out together, her sister was doing the same thing! 

Does the Harridan really think that my life, children and family doesn't enter into the equation now...?

Excuse me... but it's my kid’s birthday - mine have them too.  I don't do "fluid".  I plan in advance according to the calendar.  And I am not changing my plans just because she is incapable of buying herself a damned calendar.

Fluid…

Oh my God.  I couldn’t have found a better song – by ‘Die So Fluid’ – called Pigsty: lol

Last weekend, the Harridan switched weekends so that we were to have Kid 3.  This actually suited us as the Squeeze needed some Dad time, but it also meant I got to get back on to the 'scheduled weekends' – and I organise life by those weekends.

Double bonus; the Harridan called the change which meant we could suck it up (in her eyes) when in truth, planning in the future and knowing this weekend was a “free” weekend, I’d organised to go to my family for the weekend.  My son’s birthday (yes; strange I know, but my kid's actually have them too!) and my sister moved back home after living in the UK for many years.  And I couldn’t care less who died, if her house burned down, was struck by lightening - whatever – we were going.

As it worked out last weekend, right on the death knell, the Harridan sent a text to say Kid 3 had a better offer so wouldn’t be coming after all.  I mentioned to the Squeeze that he had best call/text her and make it clear that the change had happened, been agreed to and that she chose to send the kid elsewhere doesn't change the fact that the change was done.  A deal made.

Of course the texts/calls have flown ever since.  It would seem the Harridan wants to head on out this weekend and doesn't have anyone to have the kid.  Not my problem.  Don't make it my problem.

Of course the Moodle that I live with told her that we would be back Saturday and would have him Saturday night.  Ummm no.  Actually.  We won't.  I don't intend my family weekend be squelched down to fit with the Harridan.  End of story!  And I won't be restricting myself to come back Saturday since I may choose to go out to dinner with my brother or my sisters!

Then the selfish bitch sends this, just to beat him with the “lousy father” stick :

fact kiid has been with u one nite in six weeks Weve always had fluid approach to kid Weeikends. Why differnt now?

Yes folks, that’s a cut and paste from her text…  Brilliant English…  

I wanted to reply to say:
Hello.  I have children too.  A family even.  It's not all about you and yours.

Tomorrow I'll be going through my calendar to see just when that "one night" was...

Just Two Days

On Sunday while crossing paths at a thrilling afternoon of fifteen year old cricket, the Squeeze told the Harridan that from here on in, if she wanted to go anywhere through the week, he is fine to have Kid 3 – but on our terms, not hers.

Our terms were that unless it was an emergency (and yes, they do happen) then he would be available to go over there to “baby sit” the fifteen year old or take him out to dinner and a movie.  If it was an over nighter, he’d drag a sleeping bag with him. 

He went on to explain that given the size of our house, lack of space, privacy and bathroom – and add to that the fact that I also lived there, have kids, shared the environment and had commitments that I had for that time also, then work night sleepovers wouldn’t be a possibility.  Given that since returning home from our holiday the Harridan has contacted him every day to ‘tell’ him that we were having Kid 3; I decided that from here on in, he needed to manage her expectations a little better, because I was getting sick of arguing about it.

There are times in our life when the Squeeze actually does appear to listen to me and I figure he realised that I was right.  She was repeat asking multiple times; and on each of those repeat askings where she totally ignored his “sorry, no can do…” from the previous day, he would raise the question to me again.  I would go ballistic wondering why the hell we were having this discussion all over again; and then we would argue about it - and if it continued, we weren't going to make it.

Obviously this somehow struck home because he raised this as the beginning of the discussion. 

In fact, I was almost disappointed by the lack of reaction when he was telling me the gist of what had transpired.  He mentioned that like me, he had expected a few choice words that basically went along the lines of “that will be a cold day in hell”…   That she didn’t swear at him, he felt was a good thing.

I asked several times “but do you think she got it..?”  “Is this going to continue..?” and each answer seemed relatively positive.  I however, was a little more doubting and did no more than raise an eyebrow and say “let’s see how long it takes to get the text to say you are having him this week…”

How long did it take..?  Just two days.

The Business Case

After receiving several emails asking if I was okay, I decided I’d better continue to update my blog  ;-)

So…  my last entry finished with me receiving the “I’m moving out” email and my reply of “yeah; go ahead, make my day”.

So I storm home from work expecting to find the house empty of him and his clothes - and I’m actually looking forward to it!  Because he is being an arse; a jerk!   For some reason, this idiot and the utter Harridan of an ex-wife seem to think they are the only people on the planet that count.  It doesn’t matter if it’s my home too; or my time.  Or my things that are treated badly or dirtied.  It appears that because it is a kid – and worse, their kid, that seems to excuse anything!

Instead of finding the house empty, I walk in the door to find him slinking around the kitchen, acting as if no words had been traded between us.  Yeah, I don’t do “bury my head in the sand”; it’s pointless.

This needs discussion because I’m not living like this and he is obviously miserable with the way things are; so I start the ball rolling.  In truth, ‘we’ talking about it generally means ‘me’ talking about it; and this time wasn’t really any different.

Relationships are about honesty and talking; but they are also about fairness and negotiation – willingness to compromise.  Both the Squeeze and the witch seem incapable of understanding that I’m making a compromise to my lifestyle – every second weekend and dotted days in between – and have for years.  My children are adults and gone from home; I like it that way.  I didn’t choose to have a teenager, let alone one that is lazy with no care for my environment.  And truth tell, I figured the time we would have him would get less as friends took precedence – instead, with no friends the time is getting more!  And we need to work this out now, because I’m not going there…  I’m not doing more.

These people are incapable of understanding cleanliness or hygiene.  Organisation…?  I may as well be speaking in tongues.  And yet if I look at it with my Project Manager brain, I see that no one seems to care what I want or need – my requirements don’t even make it to the business case!    I’m not even mentioned as a stakeholder for crying out loud.

So I try to impart some PM wisdom on the Squeeze.  Okay, this may have included a bit of shouting and a few tears, but sometimes you have to be passionate in your beliefs.

I discussed the issues, risks and impacts.

Issues:

• The issues are that my needs are not ever considered – I do not want a teenager full time.
• The witch does not follow any form of organisation which effectively kills my ability to organise.
• The kid is lazy and hygiene levels are low - my work load/gag reflex increases.
• If I say no; the Squeeze bombards me with repeated requests via the witch and her text messages become abusive.
• The Squeeze wants to see more of the kid.

Risks:

• Repeated requests make me feel mulish and resentful.
• The lack of organisation means my first reaction is to say ‘no’ – because of her.
• I will give up waiting for the ex-wife to see a hygiene issue and say something myself.
• If I say no and the Squeeze repeats the request the next 3 days in a row; I’ll stab him.
• The Squeeze will move out and find a place he can be with the kid whenever he wishes.

I think I covered off the issues and risks and the Squeeze sat and listened and could probably even agree with me that these were in fact Issues.  He may not see them or feel them, but he couldn’t deny they were issues for me.

But when I talked about the “impact” – ahhh this is where it all goes to hell in a hand basket.  Why?  Because this idiot really thinks there is no ‘impact’ on me.  How does it ‘impact me’ he asks!  WTF??  Is this idiot for real..?

I attempted to give him a tiny example of my world this weekend… 

Saturday afternoon he spent attempting to find my music.  Several months ago, the kid took my 1Tb hard drive (without my permission) and plugged it into a different computer.  The iTunes on the computer sucked my mp3’s out.  I should probably point out that being “organised” meant that I now had a top level folder called [music] and in that folder were hundreds of [artist] and in that, [albums].  About 500 gb worth.  10 years’ worth.  EACH FOLDER IS NOW EMPTY.   I was not fricking happy!  I didn’t leap kick him, but I wanted to!

Up until now, nothing had been done about it other than a few token “searches” by the Squeeze and him telling me “they’re there… somewhere…”.  This week, I am showing the Squeeze part of the “impact” that is the kid.  In finding my music, he is not even half way through…

On Friday, my daughter was coming to go boxing with the Squeeze and then stay the night.  It took me an hour to clean the spare room.  I had to drag the doona and pillows outside and spray them, then throw them in the dryer and spray them again.  I had to open the windows, spray the mattress and the carpet in an attempt to get the stench out of the room – enough so that is was bearable for someone else to stay.

I had to wash the bedding twice – with tea tree oil.  The doona cover smelled so revolting that I couldn’t leave it in the laundry; and then I gagged while tossing it in the garage to wait until the sheets washed.   When the Squeeze came home, I dragged him out to the garage and put the doona cover in his face – and he could smell it.

Finally!!!  That’s never happened before…  Driving along with my head is hanging out the window like a dog because of the manky hair smell – and he can’t smell a thing!   He would struggle to smell a rotting corpse that’s been in the garage for three weeks!  So how damned bad does the stench have to be for him to smell it..?  And considering the kid was only here for two nights – what the hell does the Harridan’s house smell like…?  [I almost gagged typing that!]

Where are we at..?

Well I mentioned compromise.  So I typed up an agreement and sent it to the Squeeze with the suggestion that if week nights she wants to bugger off to velvet land and toss the kid at us, do so – he would have the kid – but he would have him at their place…  Not mine.   [Note:  obviously he wasn’t going to be staying there while she was there…]  He was okay with this idea.  Not sure she’ll go for it given that he’s not actually allowed to cross the threshold J

I also suggested that one night a week, he pick up the kid and do dinner and a movie – then drop him back home.  Two nights if he wanted!  That way they have quality time – and it doesn’t impact me! [And bonding is not in the form of 24/7 television]

We have to do something about this problem…  Or we’re not going to make it.

As I pointed out to the Squeeze, since getting off a plane following a 30 hour flight, the Harridan has demanded we have the kid every single day for two weeks.  In between this, she has poured on the venom – I mean how dare he take a three week holiday (which was four weeks according to her at last count); how dare he leave his kid that long!  Strangely, this wasn’t an issue when she buggered off to Perth for longer than that over Christmas and then extended it another week or so in Bali!  The kid wasn’t suffering from him not being there then..!  Hell, he wasn’t even worthy of being told about it!

My stress level has gone through the roof and we have argued repeatedly.  So it’s fix it or bust.

The Saga Continues…

I received an email from the Squeeze this morning.

“I just got a call from the Harridan. She is going to the beach and the kid does not want to go; wants to stay at our place and then will bus it home tomorrow.  Any thoughts on that?”

Hmmmm  I guess me replying to say: “frankly, I’d rather stick my head in a bucket of scorpions” wouldn't go down very well, even if it is somewhat accurate. 

I had no doubt that the witch would be coming at us again this week to have him, but I kind of figured I’d get at least one day in before having to deal with it.  After all, yesterday, Friday and earlier last week he had told her that Sunday and Monday night was out. 

What that means is that things are going to be continually difficult if the same question is going to be asked four times, because that means four arguments between us - over the same issue.  For all intents and purposes, it is the only real issue we have between us.

The worst part is that I’m seriously wondering how I’m supposed to deal with this...

When we moved in together, he had spent the previous year buggering off to watch the kid play sport on a Saturday and then bringing him home for the night on alternate Saturday’s prior to taking him back the next evening.   And let’s face it, he’s fifteen;  I kind of figured that even that single night would be on a downward spiral as he acquired friends and wanted to go do kid stuff. 

But no; three schools in as many years has not seen an improvement on the ‘lack of friends front’ and so instead of days diminishing, it is up to a standard Friday and Saturday night with all these nights thrown in between.  I veto many of them through the week because there just isn’t the room for three people to get ready in the morning, let alone the pick-up/drop off/get ready drama that causes my stress levels to hit the roof.

So of course, I’m the monster…  Why shouldn't the kid be here as often as he likes?  Hell, why not just move him in??  And the Squeeze, in typical “ugly parent” fashion looks through rose coloured glasses and can see no wrong.  When I mentioned the filthy marks on the wall, he almost put his hands over his ears and cried “la la la” so he didn't have to hear it – then stated: “he didn't do it”.

WTF!?  Of course he did it!  And both of them sat there and watched while I fricking cleaned it!!!

And this is the root of all of our problems.  The Squeeze can quite happily live in a pigsty.  The kid is lazy and bought up in horrendous “clean freak hell” standards.  You don’t press loo buttons or wash your hands; you slam the fridge; you leave greasy finger marks on the wall; slop food/drink on the carpet; once instructed to have a shower, you get out and throw the wet towel on the bedroom carpet…    I shudder to imagine what the Harridan’s place looks like – I can see it would replicate the photos depicted here – as clean freak hell.

And for the life of me, I can’t see why anyone lives like that. 

The Squeeze is lazy.  It’s tiring enough just picking up after him.  Why would he think I want to double that repeatedly…?  What I’m wondering is why it is my world that must change, why is it that I’m the one that must adapt?  Because when I follow on from that question, I have to wonder just what the hell I am getting out of this relationship..?

At the end of the day, it is not my kid, it is his.  He needs to accept ownership and responsibility; and adopt a little bit of consideration.   I shouldn't be one doing the clean-up; nor should I be having the same argument time and time again regarding an issue that was laid out in black and white, prior to him moving in.  (And don’t think I won’t get that email!)   Chief amongst those demands was “organisation re the kid – no on the fly stuff” – which has been completely ignored.  I’m to rearrange my life and my way of thinking to accommodate – and there is nothing coming back at me in return.

I stormed around in a power walk at lunch time and figured that this really isn't

working.  I’m obviously to have no opinion with our relationship or lives.  If kids want to come and go, leave a mess and be pigs – then I’m supposed to just suck it up.   And I can’t.

So from three fantastic weeks in Greece we reach this place.

I came back from lunch to this email:

Having you determine when i can and can't have my son over doesn't work for me, so I'll be moving out. i told jhim to come down to night so we'll get a hotel somewhere. [cut and paste including poor spelling!]

Then my reply:

Yes.  Having your kid fostered off on to me with no prior organisation and no care for keeping my house clean - doesn't work for me and I came to the same conclusion while walking at lunch time.  I'm sick to death of stressing about it - and sick to death of cleaning up after everyone.

Moron!