Respect. Guilt. Sympathy

LB’s first night with her dad went ok. At least she came home safe and sound, so I’m grateful for that.  She was dirty, tired and thirsty, and it looked like a cat scratched her, but otherwise ok.

Rooferman informed me on Saturday that the court is filing a default on him for lack of Child Support payments. He also told me that they aren’t moving into Blondie’s mom’s house after all. Basically he pleaded that if he goes into default, they will take his license, which in turn will cause him to lose his job, which will lead them to homelessness. He said the only way the court will give him a break is if I close the case.

I’m ashamed to say that I felt sorry for him. I don’t know how I can still feel empathy for this manipulative deadbeat, but I said I would try to do something for him.

Then I said goodbye to LB and told her Iwould call her before bedtime. My friends and I went to a late movie, so I excused myself around 8:30 and went into the lobby to call her. I got the answering machine. I told Rooferman to call me back immediately and waited outside the theatre. After 20 minutes, I went and stood in the aisle so I could watch the movie and make a quick getaway if I needed to. He didn’t call back.

At about 10:30, I finally hear my phone ring. Rooferman said they were just getting back home from Blondie’s parent’s house, and LB was asleep in the car seat. He said he would call me in the morning so I could talk to her. I was pissed because 10:30 is awfully late for a 2-year-old to go to sleep, and he broke my promise to her.

The more I thought about the whole situation, the angrier I got. This man had the nerve to beg me for help over something that is HIS fault. He knew he could make me feel sorry for him. Not only that, he was also trying to put me in a position where I would feel guilty if I didn’t help him. Basically he was saying “I will lose my license, my car, my job AND my house if you don’t take the opportunity to make this right.”

How. Dare. He.

The next morning, I got up early and waited for the call. Do you think it ever came? No. Once again I was made a sucker. Once again I had enough respect for him to believe he would keep his word, yet he didn’t even have the same respect for me. While he was asking me for help, he kept saying “I really want us to trust each other, and work this out.”

Meaning…if you don’t do this for me, we’re not going to be able to have a peaceful custody arrangement? Meaning, if you don’t help me, your and LB’s life will be a living hell?

Well he’s off to a pretty shitty start. He had the nerve to ask me to save his ass, when really he should be suffering the consequences of his lack of responsibility. If I help him, what does he learn from his mistakes? Nothing. What’s it going to be next month? Oh, my truck won’t start, I’m not going to be able to afford child support again. TOUGH. I’m done with digging him out of his own hole.

I’m not even WITH this man anymore. Why should I help him? Why do I even feel sorry for him? I’m disgusted with myself that I even felt this way! Maybe I was in denial that winning in court was the end of this drama. Obviously I have the rest of my daughter’s life to deal with this crap.

I don’t want to go back to court. I was looking forward to some non-court-related life for a while.  I don’t want to have to wonder if Rooferman is driving without a license, or living in a meth motel while my daughter is with him.  That is a whole messy, dangerous, scary future that I thought I had managed to avoid by his miraculous signing of my parenting plan. Obviously, its not over yet.

But I’m not closing my child support case. Rooferman needs to figure out how to put his daughter at the top of his list, even if it means learning a hard lesson. Even if it means I will forever become the villain, he  needs to take responsibility for his own actions.

I’m not his mommy. I’m not here to save him.

Documenting vs. Badmouthing

Meeting again with Rooferman tonight. Its amazing how different I feel going into it this time. I would say that I’m looking forward to it a tiny bit, but I don’t want to jinx myself.

That “I’m going to Disneyland” song was playing on the radio this morning. I got a little emotional high listening to it. Maybe its because I feel like I’m on the verge of something. This all being over? God I wish.

Blondie informed me last night that I was (once again) no longer welcome in her house. I’ve heard that so many times that its almost lost its meaning. I think she got a hold of the updated parenting plan and actually read though it. When she got to this part:

Each parent shall be afforded a brief period not to exceed fifteen (15) minutes once every six months, or upon any relocation, to see and inspect the residence of the other, including the sleep area provided for the minor child. 

She wasn’t too happy.

She told me that I can call Social Services on her if I want, but there was no way I was going to inspect her home. She “just doesn’t agree with that.”

Too bad for her, its not her choice. The funniest part about it was I didn’t even request this to be put in the parenting plan. Lawyerdude said that was standard procedure for someone who has unstable living situations (which I think Roofie qualifies as).

I also received a statement of how far behind Rooferman is in child support payments.

The total stands at $4829.00

These are the facts people. I’m just documenting them. Is it really considered bad-mouthing when I’m describing actual events? I don’t know. I’m just trying to make sense of my life and do it in a way where my daughter doesn’t get hurt.

Do you think Erin Brockovich’s kids embarrassed that their mom revealed their life story on the big screen, or do you think they are incredibly proud and inspired that she is their mom? They had deadbeats as dads, and the entire world knew that. 

What do you think?

Moving

My mother picked up LB from Roofie’s house last night. Since she is a big, scary feminist, they were as polite as can be to her. Thank God they have taken down their McCain/Palin Sign, or else a fight may have ensued.

“Sorry the house is a mess, but we’re moving,” Roofie said to my mom.

Hmmmm. First the cell phone, now the house. Someone can’t afford his new life? Apparently they are moving back to Blondie’s mom’s house out on the mesa.

On a different note, I made a whopping $7.50 last week writing for The Examiner. That’s like 3 whole gallons of gas! I know the blogworld is sick of talking about lactating moms, but I had to respond to this Atlantic Article in my  post today.

P.S. I laid out on my deck for the first time this weekend. It was ridonkulously amazing.

P.P.S LB’s new infatuation with The Lion King has prompted spontaneous singing of “I just can’t wait to be….C-L-E-A-N

Sick of this

Roofie called my lawyer yesterday, stating that he’s tried numerous times to meet with me but I’ve refused. Lawyerdude said “I don’t believe that, but if you two can work this out, I think that’s best for everyone.”

I feel like my teeth are being pulled out one by one, and just when I’ve managed to get over the pain, here comes Roofie with the pliers again. Unfortunately, my Laywer is right. As long as one of us keeps “trying to work it out” that’s what a Judge wants.

So via email and phone calls through my lawyer, Rooferman finally agreed to meet me “One on One” at his parent’s home sometime next week.  Since his mother considers both of us her children, I guess that’s as neutral a location as we’re going to get.  Maybe his mom will even back me up.

When his parents came to me the night before our last court date, they had lots of questions and I explained the parenting plan my lawyer and I had made up in detail. His mom asked me if the Judge was going to clarify these things at the status conference, because she thought Rooferman didn’t really understand all of it.

Maybe with her help, he will?

At least this time I’m not going into it with a shining ray of hope. In fact, my lawyer is asking me to contact witnesses for the trial already. Basically, preparing for the worst, but if at all possible, hoping for the best.

 I know many of my bloggy friends have told me not to meet with him, and to stop torturing myself. Last time I was so shocked by his request to meet with me that I started fantasizing an easy way out (I’m a Pisces, I’m good at that). This time I know what he’s trying to do. So I can show up, bring my parenting plan, listen to what he has to say, and tell him “I’m sorry you’re not willing to compromise. I will see you in court.”

Otherwise, he will tell the Judge that he tried and tried to come to an agreement with me, but I refused to meet with him. 

I’m just so sick of this.

Single mom dreams

I’ve been taking Tylenol PM at night so I can endure the Strep Throat and get some rest.  Consequently, my dreams have been kooky.

I had this one about 2 days ago, so the details are a little fuzzy:

I dreamed something in my house broke, and my landlord called a handyman to fix it. He was an older man, about 50ish, with a kind face. He inspected my house, while I followed him around. He noticed that one of my plants was dying. He told me knew how to fix it. He then re-potted and pruned the leaves off of the plant, and it immediately started blossoming little yellow flowers. He was like the magic Handyman/Botanist.

This one was from Last night:

I dreamed I was leaving Durango. I was speeding down the highway in my car, headed south, I think for Mexico. LB wasn’t with me. I stop somewhere in Arizona, and I get a call from Rooferman. He says he can’t watch LB and he need to drop her off with me. I tell him I can’t, I’m in Arizona. He says, that’s ok, I’ll be there in an hour. I wait in a Truck-Stop parking lot, and about Midnight he rolls up. His truck is crammed full of people. Loud music is blasting. He opens the door and smoke starts pouring out. He hands LB to me, and she’s covered in filth.

I look at Rooferman, and his eyes are dilated. His hair is greasy, and his skin is smudged with dirt. He looks like he’s high on Meth. He hands me a piece of paper, saying “Here. Get this prescription filled for LB.”

LB doesn’t cry. Instead she is completely silent. She looks at me with big, scared eyes.  Rooferman turns and runs back to his truck. I say “Wait! I need the car seat!” He pushes people aside in his truck and pulls out a broken car seat, the seat belt dangling to the ground. “Here,” he says.

Then he gets back into his truck, peels out and drives off into the night. I am left standing with a broken car seat and a sick child in the middle of the Arizona desert.

A crying LB climbed into my bed at this point in the dream. She laid down next to me and started coughing. I rubbed her back until she fell asleep. Poor kid.

I wonder if Married moms have dreams like this?

Words of Wisdom

Do not let yourself be bothered with the inconsequential. One only has so much time in this world, so devote it to the work and the people most important to you, to those you love and things that matter. One can waste half a lifetime with people one doesn’t really like or doing things when one would be better off somewhere else.”  — Louis L’amour, Ride the River

I’m trying to keep this Mantra in mind when it comes to Roofie.  I’m hoping it brings me a little bit of peace.

Clarity stings.

Here’s Annie Ortelee’s astrological horoscope for today:

Friday is a great day for getting things done and out the door. Some of the volatility of the past few days has abated and Venus wants to dispel or discharge the excess energy. She may be feeling a bit tuckered out from all the energy moving through her the past few days. Her trine to Neptune feeds her a bit of fuel and her last aspect to Mars ensures that whatever has happened since 2:46 pm EDT Wednesday is all for the greater evolution and good for all. Might sting a bit but aren’t you clearer? Probably hurt but NOW you know what you want to do. Maybe didn’t want to but now you get it.

Pretty much sums up my week in a nutshell. What did you learn this week that wasn’t exactly the most pleasant experience?

P.S. I did go to my lawyer’s office at noon just in case. I told him what had happened and he shook his head.

“Pathetic. He’s a grown man and he can’t even have a civilized conversation.”

….Or spell the word P-E-T-I-T-I-O-N.