This installment covers one more trip to Maine and one major step towards the end of my Frequent Father days. The trip was my best effort at exercising my visitation rights for my kids' February school break; I technically have the right to have them for the whole week, but due to work, life, and financial constraints, I couldn't retrieve them and bring them home, so it was reduced to me coming to Maine for 3.5 days.
I was fortunate to find a 2-bedroom condo on the beach for the same price as a Hampton Inn (love Airbnb.com!), so we had a cozy "home" for the visit and I saved a lot of money by buying groceries and preparing meals in the unit. The weather even cooperated well enough--one day in late February was warm enough to go down to the ocean, which afforded the very Maine experience of having a snowball fight on the beach. It was a good time all around.
The trip would have been just an upbeat footnote in the mostly grim annals of the Frequent Father, but for the semi-miraculous turn of events that began on Thursday afternoon, soon after I arrived in Maine. I had given up on making any progress in my custody case during the trip, and was resigned to having to wait until late March just to have a (stupid, pointless) mediation session and then wait another week for a court-mandated status conference, meaning that the actual final hearing couldn't even be scheduled for another month.
At the time of my arrival, there was still no word from the guardian ad litem (GAL) as to whether or not he (this GAL is a man, acronym notwithstanding) would be filing a report. Also, there was no word from my attorney as to whether or not she had succeeded in scheduling a private mediation session for the next morning that would still be stupid and pointless, but would at least move things along. I was tired of waiting for answers, so I called up the GAL, and he was very forthcoming with me. I won't specify what he said (I don't know if my ex knows about this blog or not!) but he told me that he wasn't ready to deliver his report just yet, as he was still trying to track down medical information about the drunk stepfather. Then my attorney called back to tell me that she had succeeded in scheduling a mediation for the next morning. Things were looking up.
The mediation was just as useless as I expected, and my ex (naturally) refused to sit in the same room with me, so the poor mediator had to shuttle back and forth between rooms at her lawyer's office, which wasted time. We settled nothing, but we did "check the box," so we could proceed. Both parties then agreed to file a joint status report, thus allowing us to skip the pre-trial conference and paving the way to getting a trial date and moving forward. It still may not happen until late April or May, but at least we're making progress.
It's been a long road to get to where I am now, and I'm feeling very optimistic about all this. I'm not thrilled about the upheaval that my kids will need to undergo if they come to live with me, but it's far, far better than the dangerous and toxic environment where they now live. I am certain that someday, when they are grown, they will thank me for getting them out of that environment. Their lives are going to be so much better and happier, and so will mine.
There will be at least two more trips to Maine: the annual March birthday trip in two weeks and the final hearing. And then...I hope I never have to set foot in that state ever again. Yes, I know it's beautiful and scenic, and the lobster is great, but I've had my fill of Vacationland forever. There will be one lest goddamned tourist for them to hate. I'll find my special place somewhere else.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
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