A Lonely Boy.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Life for the disorganised is hard. No ifs or buts about it.
The Harridan repeatedly berates the Squeeze for his lack of ‘care’ or attention re the kid. This is her way of sucking it out of him, rewriting history and then using her “truth” to beat him into submission. And he falls for it. He has for years. He immediately Moodle’s up, feels guilty and then caves in to her tantrum.
Okay, that was the old Squeeze and rewriting history isn’t as easy when I’m here to colour code our calendar. I could take a screen shot and send it to her to let the truth wash over her, but what would be the point. If we shoved it in her face and put electrodes to her eyeballs, she would still go with her version of the truth. Still, the Squeeze actually has the kid quite a lot. More importantly; he spends time with him.
But back to our calendar… It looks kind of busy and I believe I’ve put a shot of it on the blog previously; but if not, the colours are:
Red = time we have the kid.
Orange = time she sends the guilt ridden “kid wants to spend time with dad…”
Green = time we go out – which often encompasses the kid and is less than any other colour.
Black = the repeat demand “you will have the kid!”
Purple = My time. Touch this at your own peril.
Today we have been inundated with Harridan history. The Squeeze is a low down lousy father. She attempted to get a bed and breakfast thing up and running in velvet land – which has backfired. Well an ounce of sense would have dictated that a: the economic climate would be against her; and b: she is a lazy pig with zip hygiene – and weirdly, people prefer to rent clean houses.
The short of it is that she can’t make rent wherever she is at so the Squeeze has to pay more; oh, and the kid wants a new saxophone – so let’s fork out for that. And the school trip to Paris! (I guess the fact that she can’t make rent is totally lost on her…)
Anyhow, the crux is that she figures we “owe” her kid time; after all, we went to Europe for 6 years.
Actually, it was 3 weeks. We missed one weekend of the kid and we had him here for 2 nights prior to leaving to make up for it. Since that time, every weekend and quite a few’ through the weeks’ have been kid time. We owe her nothing – except maybe a bitch slap from a bar stool.
When she is cornered by his reply stating the actual dates and times we have had the kid, she becomes patronizing. His life sounds horrible. He is nothing but a lonely person.
A Lonely Boy.
A Lonely Boy.
Then she sends a text asking for for our doctors number; with a follow up to state – “you don’t even ask why we need the doctor!!!!!”
Who the hell would have to ask?
Easy... The kid had a scratch on his hand the other day. His hygiene levels are dismal at the best of times and so the deep scratch got infected. Big deal. I noticed it looked red and angry. The next time I saw it, she had placed a bandage on it and I thought to myself “well let’s see how that goes. Let’s just trap those germs in a warm, moist environment...” If antibiotics weren’t “evil”, I’d have put some antibiotic cream and a bit of gauze on it and it would be gone. She will of course, await red streaks up his arm, agony and the potential arm dropping off phase before resorting to ‘evil antibiotics’. Dumb cow.
And let’s face it; if I tried to put it on the kid, he recoil as if he was a vampire and I was treating him with ‘holy water’. My God; he is brain washing at it’s finest.
I haven’t even started to cover the “sit down… we need to talk” discussion I received from the Squeeze yesterday.
Posted by Mistress at 4:58 PM