It seemed like a really good idea at the time…
At the suggestion of us moving house so that we could have
the kid fifty per cent of the time; I realised that meant that I’d be dealing
with not one, but two fifteen year olds for about half of my life; at least for
a few years. That is how the Squeeze deals with the fact that
the Kid is friendless. He morphs into a mate and suddenly the
television is roaring at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon with some teenage humour
that involves poo or sport; usually both.
I see this as an inability to fix the issue, so let’s just
pretend there is no issue. He has a friend. Yay! Fixed! Umm
no. He has a 15 year old father.
If you are thinking that having no friends means the kid is
suicidal, dressed in black, worshiping the devil and plotting my death –
don’t. Frankly, he’s not that cool. I’d
almost enjoy seeing one single sign that there is a kid in there. And
he’s not outwardly unhappy about his life. Last weekend all
members of the band that are travelling to France were invited to a celebration
BBQ. Yay. Kid. Out on a Saturday night at a
school thing; which meant some date time for the Squeeze and I who planned to
go to the movies over that side of town, then swing back and get the kid on the
way home.
Good plan hey? Yeah, I thought so too… But
when they get back from cricket, the Squeeze tells me the Kid is sick; yes,
that old phlegm gurgling, chest rattling cough that he gets that lasts for
weeks on end and school days start to fall like wickets because the poor little poppet
is too sick to go to school. Well enough to go play cricket of
course, but not school. And those evil antibiotics that could fix
it, won’t pass his lips because they’ll destroy the “good bacteria” in his
body. Stuff everyone else’s body – because we work, so we’ll be killing off that good bacteria
quicker than you can poke a stick at it.
So he doesn't want to go to the BBQ. Hey, he's been at cricket all day and is going tomorrow! He can damn well go to that party and I don't care if he sits on a rock by himself all night! So the Squeeze moodles over the the sofa the kid has laid himself out on and tells him that he is going the party; we are going the movies and will grab him after.
And the kid immediately says "I'd rather go to the movies too!" Yeah kid. That he would rather go on a date with daddy and daddy's girlfriend is kind of moving into "creepyville" and it sure as hell wasn't going to happen on my watch!
But I regress…
I thought hey, let’s get a big house and I’ll have the girl
move with us. She’s twenty five, a clean-ish person; not exactly
‘serial killer precision’ as I am, but at least she flushes the toilet button!
Besides; she is mine so therefore, I’ll have an ally. How could I have gotten it so wrong!
It
appears that the girl and the Squeeze have become allies, which I didn’t
anticipate. During a shouting match last night, suddenly I had a
third person pipping in over the top to mention that I should cease to yell and
then going one step further to actually have an opinion on the snippets of
conversation that she had actually overheard. This seriously
unimpressed me. I guess that is obvious since I’m up at 8 am on a
Saturday morning firing off 1500 words.
In short, since last week and the 67 contacts, the Squeeze has sat on the edge of a sword, sometimes agreeing it was “excessive”
(really? You reckon?), but at other times demanding I cease to look
at his phone.
Now that gives it a spying vibe which was actually not the
case, since I looked at it while he was sitting two feet away in the car;
counting out loud the many times the Harridan’s name flashed past me in the
log.
What he actually means is that fixing the problem is too
difficult for him. The simple fix would be for me to just not notice
the contact.
Good idea; but that probably won't work. I mean he forgets to mention that she has emailed
eight times, called four times and text 12 times throughout any given day - even when I actually ask if he has heard from her; but
when we both have a day off – she continues contact at the same rate which then causes us to argue.
We can’t go anywhere or do anything without the Harridan
sitting on the centre console of the car between us; pipping over the top with
calls and texts; ordering him around and demanding money while telling him what a useless father he is.
Yesterday, while we were getting ready for a funeral, the
first call came. He didn’t answer but we all know this was for
my benefit. He is loath to just ignore her, or even go one step
further and tell her to cease and desist. Did I say loath to? I
meant he seems addicted to that contact and I'm sure his fingers actually twitched a few times. I mentioned if it was
important, she’d leave a message, but she is smarter than that – she leaves only the queenly command of “call me” so he has to talk to her if he wants to know what it is
about.
I had already bound and gagged my temper and attempted to
shove it in a box. You would probably rightly assume that gagging it is difficult for me at the best of times. But the night before we’d been to a Kid 1 gig in the
city and when I had specifically asked if the Harrdain would be there – given
the same gig last year, I’d been dead on my feet with a migraine and she and
her Ho sister had been rude to me and then laughed about it; all while the Squeeze had stood in their little circle happily chatting while I tried to force
the migraine vomit back down my throat. No… she wouldn't be
there I was told, she went to another of the sessions. Really..? So who is
that middle aged lesbianish looking woman in velvet I see when we arrive then?
If that wasn't enough, then there is the repeat texts coming in for the $500 music
weekend he "needs" to go to; and all I can think of is how the Squeeze hasn’t even paid for France yet. And
he’ll pay it. Of course he will. He always pays.
And with each time the Harridan yells cha-ching and the Squeeze opens his wallet; I realise that us
getting a house is just not achievable. I’ll never get a house if I stay in
this relationship.
And the call..? In the end, she emailed him to
say she had made them an appointment to go to parent teacher; since he hadn’t
answered the phone, she made the time without consultation. Hmmm why change normal programming? I mean she moved him to that school without consultation, so why bother asking about parent teacher interviews?
The idiot was somewhat triumphant to advise that “there was
a reason for the call!!!” At least he was until I asked why the school that he
is paying half the fees for, feels the need to go via the Harridan instead of
contacting him directly to make his own time for parent interview times; and
okay, I may have gone one step further to ask scathingly if mummy was going to
make his next dental appointment too.
Instead of working it out in his head that this is her usual
control mechanism, he stupidly lies to my face to say that they have to go
together to parent teacher interviews, that is the only way that the school
will do it – and at 3pm on a workday. So it didn't make a difference if she organised it.
Ummmm yeah, sure. I guess it has been
at least five years since my kids finished school, but I’d figure the rate of
marriage breakdown has substantially increased since then. In saying
that, if we estimate that at least 50% of the class are from blended families;
and then let's just say that 50% of those, have an ex husband or wife that is as toxic as the
Harridan – then I’m tipping at least 25% of those students would not be able to
go play happy family - even for the brief moment of parent teacher. Therefore, common sense
makes it obvious that his words were a lie to cover the fact that he is incapable of removing her as the crutch to his life.
That is about the time I started shouting. Because
I hate being lied to yes, but more importantly, I hate being treated as though
I’m utterly stupid; and I'd have to be to just swallow that.
So I blew my top. The Squeeze, like a deer
trapped in the headlights, concentrated on the television, hoping that I'd forget
how much I hate him at that moment and become as mesmerized by it as he was. Getting any answers at all, let alone ones that make
sense or are not insults about me being neurotic, is impossible. So I shout louder (okay, that obviously
doesn’t work but it’s better than throwing something at his stupid head – like
I wanted to…)
I'll admit that during my temper tantrum there was a world of yelling and door slamming. I know it doesn't help but he's not a stupid person so I figure he must be hard of hearing! And this is when the girl butts in to tell me to stop shouting and
agreeing who cares re the school interviews and I snap at her (she is still
getting the silent treatment) because neither of these utter morons can get it through their thick heads that I
couldn’t care less if he wants to skip into the classroom holding hands with the
Harridan whistling show tunes!!!!! I just don’t want to be LIED to
about it and I want him to remove the leash from his neck and organise
it himself!
The other day I mentioned that the Squeeze had purchased a
ticket and taken a seat on the train to “dead to me” land.
