Thursday, January 29, 2009

Empty bed

I really didn't expect the end of the tax conversation to be the end of the arguing but I also didn't expect the retaliation to come as fast as it did or the way it did.

I took Alex to preschool like any other preschool day. Hug and a kiss and "I'll see you right after preschool". He gives me a quick wink and a thumbs up and runs into the classroom.

Two hours later my phone alarms goes off telling me its time to get my ass in gear to go pick him up.

As I'm pulling into the parking lot I see the Egg Donor getting out of her car. She looks right at me and heads in the building.

I have absolutely no legal right to say no and take him home. I call Dave and tell him she was there. He calls her and 30 seconds later calls me back. "She already has him, come home."

So I sit in my car dumbfounded at her bold move not able to drive away.

Then I see Alex walking out of the building in front of her crying "I'm not supposed to go with you. I'm going back to dad's house" and she puts him into her car. No booster seat and no seat belt.

I felt very closterphobic sitting in my car watching Alex climb into hers hoping Alex didnt feel betrayed when I wasn't there knowing there wasn't a fucking thing I could do.

When I get home Dave tells me that she called him right after they left the preschool to yell at him for cutting Alex's hair "Don't you know he has a huge head that looks like a basketball and he needs a lot more hair to hide it???" and hearing Alex in the back telling her "Only Dad gets to cut my hair."

To poke at Dave she has successfully stomped that little boy. Dave and I talked about what to do next and decided not to fight with her over the phone when we have no control over where Alex is in her house and what he would be listening to. Instead we decide its best to talk to Alex and apologize to him and make sure he's ok.

Dave gets Alex on the phone and says "Alex buddy, I'm so sorry. Mom and I didn't tell you ***** was going to pick you up. "

Alex says "That's OK Dad, I know it wasn't your fault. I'll be OK."


When the parenting plan was being set up they went through several versions. The only thing that changed from version to version was the support amount we would pay her every month. When we finally hit the magic number she signed.

So the parenting plan they set up has never been followed. We have adjusted schedules based on her whim because it has ALWAYS worked out better for Dave and I. We have always had more time with Alex than what the parenting plan spells out. According to the parenting plan schedule it was her time. Legally we couldn't do anything about her just showing up and taking him yesterday.

I also can't believe she put preschool in the middle of this. She put those teachers in a terrible position knowing either Dave or I were supposed to pick him up and having her show up and take him. They also didn't have a choice but to let him go.

Olivia is now taking the brunt of my feelings of helplessness. I'm compensating for my inability to hug Alex by wanting to hold her tight keeping her as close to me as I can today. Several times last night I woke up and couldnt go back to sleep so I snuck into the kids room and laid down with her. I would lay there as close as I could without waking her up staring at Alex's empty bed.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


I am so uptight today.

As if taxes were not stressful enough, the Egg-Donor is furious that she can't claim Alex. She and her boyfriend have decided that our offer to give them the difference between what they actually file and what they would have received if they claimed Alex isn't fair. Something about they're both claiming head of household and they also want to be the recipient if there is another stupid stimulus package.

Alex's insurance is through my job and the only way we can keep him covered is if he is on our taxes. The legal parenting plan Dave the Egg-Donor agreed to and signed states Dave will claim him every year.

Dave argued with her for about an hour last night. He couldn't get it through to her the problems she will cause. She thinks its totally acceptable to drop him off of my insurance and put him on medicaid and have him see doctors through the ER or at the free clinic.

She is off and running today as fast as she can to H & R block to file her taxes complete with Alex as a dependent.

We will ALL end up getting audited and she has herself convinced the IRS is going to "take her side" because she has claimed him in the past AND they need the money more.

Dave will be meeting with our tax guy today and will have to warn him.


I HATE HATE HATE HATE this. I feel like David Banner trying to suppress my inner Hulk when really I just want to punch something (her) as hard as I can.

I'm thinking we should take her to small claims court after this is all done to make her pay for any accountant fees we incur because she's so effing stupid.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

American Psycho

Dave comes upstairs while I'm grinding some meat, gives me a funny look and walks on through the kitchen.

I look around and realize the grinder has been splattering further than I was expecting. Past the double sink, past the coffee pot, almost to the stove top.

I felt like I had to go return some video tapes.

Monday, January 19, 2009

taking the pasta machine out for a test run

This here is the sexiest pasta I have ever seen.


It does seriously suck when my little crank helper ditches me for the Backyardigans and I have to try to feed a sheet of pasta dough the length of my arm through, catch it as it comes out AND crank the handle all at the same time.

I rule.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

bouncing boy

When I started on antidepressants almost a year ago I felt damaged. There was something wrong with me that I wasn't taking care of and I needed chemical help to balance out. Lots of therapy sessions later I was handling life.

When I tried to take myself off the antidepressants in October I felt broken. Life was fine yet I still couldn't exist without chemical help. Two weeks off the medication and I felt like I was thrown even lower in the hole questioning my ability to EVER live without it. Will I ever be able to live my life without having to pick apart every aspect trying to analyzing where I'm fucking up?

This week I feel like a monumental failure. This time I haven't failed myself, I've failed Alex.

Alex transitioned between the two houses handling the arguments, differences in rules, schedules, and stability like someone WAY beyond his years. I could tell it was hard on him but he seemed to be happy. He was a typical boy climbing up anything, playing ball and pretending to be super heroes. He would play with Olivia and help her when she was too short or

This amazing little boy that always bounces back is no longer bouncing back.

Lately he has become an angry little dude and I haven't been able to pinpoint what changed. He is lashing out in physical ways that scare me. The random punches to Olivia, the right hook I took in the face this week while playing, the absolute defiance to any instruction, correction or discipline has me floored. It is SO VERY unlike him. Where once he would hide his face when he got in trouble, he is now trying to stare you down and refuses to accept authority. He's actually trying to hurt my feelings. I feel like I'm talking to a pubescent teenager in a 4 year old little body.

So what the fuck changed? Am I not paying enough attention to him? Is he not getting enough one on one attention with Dave or I? Has something happened at the Egg-Donor's house that we are not aware of?

Dave and I have finally had to admit we need help. We have made an appointment for child counseling to see if Alex will tell them what he wont tell us. We meet with this lady next Wednesday and will have 4 different conversations, the three of us together, Dave and Alex, Me and Alex, then Alex alone.

Dave and I ever so briefly whispered (because it feels like a dirty secret we have to keep quiet) about fighting for full custody and it scares the crap out of me. I want him with us, but it is a guaranteed ugly fight. Shoving bamboo shoots under my fingernails would be more pleasant.

What would Alex be subjected to during a custody battle?

Friday, January 9, 2009

drunk ballerina

My mom and sister came over late last night because they love me and surprised me with a late night latte. Yum. The kids were just about ready for bed so I thought I would act all cool and tough I am by showing off my incisions. (because the pictures were not enough??) Alex is a little freaked out by them so I was waiting to unveil them as soon as the kids heads hit the pillows.

As our night time routine progressed Alex started complaining about his stomach hurting.

me: "Pain kind of hurting or throw up kind of hurting?"

Alex: "throw up kind"

As he's circling the living room groaning he's blowing out huge farts every other step.

me: "Its gotta be gas pains. He'll be fine. Time for bed" because I'm anxious to show off my war wounds...

The kids went straight to bed. Off comes my boot and as I'm unwrapping my foot I can hear Olivia talking to Alex.

Olivia: "you ok Alax? your belly hurting? you ok Alax?"

Alex begins to cry.

Uh oh.

Dave heads in and Alex says he feels like he's going to throw up. Dave brings him into our bathroom and sits him down and heads off to find a bucket. Why? I dunno. he was already sitting next to a toilet.

Alex begins to cry louder, Dave is downstairs and I'm the dumbshit with my boot off and foot unwrapped. I do a one legged hop as fast as I can down the hall, round the corner into my room and I smell vomit.


Get to the bathroom doorway and there stands Alex, toilet lid down and vomit covering the toilet, splashed up on the wall, and covering his poor green footie jammies.


Trying to balance on one foot and strip down a poor little kid freaked out about the vomit everywhere could be a sideshow in the circus. Dave takes him to the other bathroom and gets a bath started.

I do my one legged hop again to get to my boot so I can clean up the bathroom. Trucking right along at a pretty fast clip and my fucking foot catches the edge of the rug and I go flying through the air like I'm trying to sack the quarterback. As graceful as a drunk ballerina I get one extra hop in and land my ass in the rocking chair.

"holy crap that was close. I cant believe I didn't wreck."

I lowered my head and shamefully wrapped up my foot again. So much for showing off how tough I am, instead I showed off what an asshat I am.

Poor boo.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

creepy toe

I was pretty apprehensive when the nurse was cutting off all of the bandages from my foot. I figured I would see a big stubby grotesque club foot.

Meh... didn't turn out too bad.

Olivia had a different feeling when I pulled the bandages off when I got home.


Surprisingly enough my foot had very little swelling.


And the underside...


I finally got to ask some questions about the surgery. I started to really worry that I had my foot unnecessarily cut open extending this whole process by a lot. The joint was fine so was there some other way of fixing the instability without creating a creepy toe?

Apparently not.

He said an MRI wouldn't have shown us what was going on in there and he was totally floored when he opened the joint that there was not a flap of cartilage hanging loose in there. My creepy toe made a liar out of him in the operating room.

My last question was about the tendon itself... Is it more like spaghetti or linguine?


Tuesday, January 6, 2009

we used to be BFFs

Dear boobies,

I decided to take you bra shopping today as a peace offering. I know we haven't been getting along lately and I thought this little jaunt out would help restore the bond we once knew.

4 trips from the dressing room out into the store to fill my arms with different brands, different styles and different sizes. A full hour of standing half naked in front of massive mirrors and bright fluorescent lights trying on bras. All for you.

You let me down. I even broke down at one point and tried the Playtex "nearly" sizes hoping to fit into something... anything.

You have completely destroyed my ego.

We are no longer on speaking terms.


Monday, January 5, 2009

33 going on 80

I'm turning into an old biddy.

I realized last night I have spent the majority of the past 5 days sitting in a rocking chair crocheting and my hip hurts from my funny walk with my boot.

Next up, funny old lady smell and 64 cats.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

He's only mostly dead

I'm finally able to tolerate the fugly boot for more than a few minutes. This means I'm able to make dinner (no more nasty frozen pizzas because that's the only thing Dave learned how to make during his single days) and move around the house without hopping on one foot or navigating the toy landmines with crutches.

Dave is doing much better this time around but its still frustrating he wont let anyone come over and give us a hand but he gets frustrated taking care of the house and the kids without his normal quiet time in the shop. I had to laugh on Thursday after the kids were put back in bed for the third time when he came into the livingroom and slumped down in his chair with a loud sigh.

Dave - "I am dead. No, I'm not dead, I'm run over and run down."

Me - "Now imagine if I asked you for sex..."

Dave - "I'm going down to the shop."

That's what I thought.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

post surgery

One day post surgery and it hurts more than the last one. The foot doc said the first surgery was a success and the cartilage looked good so no drilling. WAHOO!

So what was the pain I was feeling? Very likely instability in the joint. He went ahead and redirected the tendons and worked the joint until it moved the way it should. I'm still stuck in the fugly boot for 6 weeks and get the creepy toe.

I asked the anesthesiologist if they knock people out faster if they start to cry. He laughed and said no but when I started to freak out walking into the operating room he told me he could knock me out fast if I wanted him to.

Kids are napping so I think I'm going to take another pain killer and pass out for a while.