I just finished the Boston Marathon during the Patriot's Day holiday, but didn't even wear running shoes. No, my version involved flying from Atlanta to Boston, renting a car, driving to Maine, meeting with the court appointed guardian ad litem, picking up my kids, driving back to Boston, flying back to Atlanta for the week, flying them back to Boston, renting another car, driving them back to Maine, dropping them at their ungrateful mother's house, driving back to Boston, and flying back to Atlanta. I'm not sure what the world record is for frequent fathering, but I've got to at least be sneaking up on it.
The good news? The week in Atlanta with both of my kids made all of the rigamarole worth it. It was the first time that my daughter had come down here, and I finally, at long last, had everyone I love in the same place at the same time. My kids got to feel like they were part of my family and my life, and not just hear about it. Every day was an adventure, full of playdates, sleepovers, family celebrations, fun outings, and all around good times. My son played superheroes with his stepcousin, and my daughter played dress up with her new sister (they don't even say stepsister!) and several girl cousins. We all went to a Braves game together, and when I say all, I mean all--our group was 14 people, of which 8 were kids! It was a beautiful experience that I hope will alter their lives forever.
You see, at home, they don't get any of that. Their mother has essentially no friends, and she's content like that. Other than school and daycare, they never get together with other children or other families. They never go to baseball games or movies or even dinner. Their mother is a hermit and she wants to raise them to be hermits too, but they obviously crave what I offered them last week, as they both were smiling from morning to bedtime every day. I am hopeful that, now that they've seen the life they could have if they were with me, someday they will ask to be part of it.
I realize that courts don't let kids choose where to live, parent-wise, until they are much older than my kids are, but I have to believe that their excitement at being in Atlanta will shine through when they speak with the guardian. Oh yes, he will be meeting with them one on one, and he's been doing this a long time, so he'll know how to get them to talk about things. I don't know if he'll get them to describe the drinking habits of their supposed stepfather, but my daughter has said more than once that he drinks beer, so one never knows.
In the bigger picture, we are now definitely on course for a trial. The guardian has already met with me alone, and with the kids and me (at McDonald's, right before leaving for Boston). He's going to meet with my ex, with her and the kids together, with each kid separately, with my son's teacher and the daycare director, and, most of all, the bum himself. I have to imagine that a seasoned family attorney with more than 10 years' experience as a guardian ad litem will be able to peg the guy on sight. We'll see. Once the guardian renders his report in a next few weeks, his findings will set the stage for a trial--then the real fireworks begin.
In the meantime, my life is as scrambled as ever. I have been out of work for three months, but have four job interviews in the next 10 days. I'm trying to be positive about it, but it's getting harder. I don't know how much time I'll get with my kids this summer, as the divorce agreement is likely to change after the trial...but I don't even know if the trial will happen before the summer. Even if I do get more time granted with them, I don't even know if I can use it, since I'll (hopefully) be working full-time. And then there's the trial itself. Dare I even dream about this whole mess ending in me getting custody of the kids and being able to whisk them away from Maine forever? Do I even really want that for them?
The amazing thing is that, in spite of all of these crushing concerns, I am actually beginning to overcome my depression and feel like I am returning to living a full and meaningful life. I left Maine for good three months ago, but have still gotten to spend substantial quality time with my children in places where I can be myself and they can have access to everything I want to give them. I know that I won't be able to do this forever--I'll either get a job or burn through my savings account--but it's certainly put me in a far better place. In a couple of years, even if they are still living far from me, they'll be able to travel by themselves to where I am. Who knows, maybe when they're grown up they'll pay the ultimate compliment by choosing to live with their father. I can dream...
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
40,400 Miles
Three more months and nearly 12,000 miles later, I am sitting here in Georgia, preparing myself to not see my son on his seventh birthday. Yes, he turns 7 today, and this is the first time that I won't get to see either of my kids on their birthdays. I didn't send anything in the mail because I fear that his mother would throw it in the trash, and I have no expectation that she will answer the phone when I call tonight to wish him happy birthday. And so, life as the Frequent Father has resumed.
My decision to leave Maine came over winter break, when I spent a week at the beach in Florida with my wife, stepdaughter, and their extended family. Yes, I missed my kids, but I was too busy enjoying life again to dwell on that fact. I reminded myself that, even if I were back in Maine, I still wouldn't be with them, and I would probably be all alone. For the first time I felt like I had a new family and that there could be a light at the end of the tunnel.
Our original plan was to come back to Atlanta from Florida, pack up, and move everyone to Maine for good. I had already quashed that plan, as I told my wife that I hated my job so much that I needed to find something else if I was going to stay up there. Not surprisingly, nothing came of my desperate attempts to find anything better, and I got nothing but pessimism from people. By late January I had had enough. I quit my job, broke my lease (in spite of an empty threat of a lawsuit and pathetic attempts to hang criminal charges on me from my landlord), packed my belongings into my ex-wife's 1996 Corolla (she got the good car in the divorce), and hit the road.
I was sad to be leaving again, this time for good, but it felt different this time. I felt like I had built up a stronger bond with my kids through one more year of being near them. I felt like I truly had given it my all in Maine, and that it simply wasn't possible for me to have a good life there. Most of all, I felt like I could finally live with myself if I didn't see my children for more than a month. We'd figure out ways to love and stay attached to each other.
One thing missing this time is Skype. My ex broke the computer that I gave to her last year and claims that she hasn't got the money to replace it, which is funny, because she has enough money to hire a lawyer to fight me over her boyfriend's presence, not to mention that she can afford to buy him cigarettes and alcohol. Yes, I said alcohol--he is quite obviously still drinking. her own brother called me a couple of weeks ago to report that he actually witnessed the guy in the most stereotypical lush pose ever--guzzling wine from a 1.5 liter bottle then whipping it behind his back when he saw that he was being watched and pretending that nothing was amiss.
There have been some additional minor bumps:
- I sent my kids handmade Valentines last month but they told me they never came (nor did those from my parents or grandmother). My ex insists that they did come and that the kids must be lying.
- My ex "forgot" to tell me that my son was supposed to be in a play at Sunday School last weekend.
- A beer commercial came on the TV and my 3.5 year old daughter exclaimed, "That's beer!" I asked her how she knew that and she said that her alleged stepfather drinks it. Swell.
Anyhow, back to Skype, it is hard to not get to see their faces, and the phone can be a challenge at this age, especially for my daughter. Sometimes she won't talk at all. Other times she'll talk for five seconds and run off, or sing me a song and say "bye, Daddy." In spite of this, I still hear the love in their voices, and know that our bond is cemented, no matter what.
Another big change is that I no longer have any qualms about the potential of having to fight for custody. This conclusion came a bit from my ex's continued lying and enabling of her boyfriend, but more from the fact that my daughter has broken out of her iron-clad attachment to Mommy. I took the kids for 9 days during their February vacation--flying up to Maine to get them, spending a week in Maryland with my family, then returning them to Maine and flying back to Georgia (the miles are certainly piling up). During this time, my daughter was perfectly happy and fine, never asked for her mommy, refused to even talk to her on the phone, and even told me that she wanted to stay at Grandma's house when I told her it was time to go. My parents and I went up to Maine again last weekend to celebrate my son's birthday, and the kids didn't want us to leave. My son even told me that he wants to live in Georgia someday (hmm....)
Which brings me back to the legal proceedings. My trip to Maine in February included a mediation session with my ex and our lawyers. During this grueling and expensive session, I got her to agree to a bunch of constraints on her boyfriend's access to the kids, and squeezed more summer vacation time out of her as well. I wasn't exactly happy to be allowing him to stay, but at least I put some clamps on him, so I was satisfied. Well, my satisfaction lasted all of two days, when the aforementioned incident with my ex's brother came to my attention. She was in mediation one day, insisting that her boyfriend was sober and posed no threat to the kids, and the next he was guzzling Thunderbird in the garage. I was obviously irate.
I thus made the decision to not sign the mediated agreement, so it looks like we're headed for a trial after all. I don't know what will happen, but I do know that I cannot trust my ex at all. The court is going to have to decide what to do about her boyfriend and, possibly, about the kids. I don't know that I will get them, but one never knows.
As for me, I haven't found a job yet, but I've had several promising interviews, and I at least feel like there may be good news soon. More importantly, I am getting back to living again, and making it possible for me to be a good father to my children for many years to come. I know they can sense it, and that takes away some of the sting of living so far from them.
My decision to leave Maine came over winter break, when I spent a week at the beach in Florida with my wife, stepdaughter, and their extended family. Yes, I missed my kids, but I was too busy enjoying life again to dwell on that fact. I reminded myself that, even if I were back in Maine, I still wouldn't be with them, and I would probably be all alone. For the first time I felt like I had a new family and that there could be a light at the end of the tunnel.
Our original plan was to come back to Atlanta from Florida, pack up, and move everyone to Maine for good. I had already quashed that plan, as I told my wife that I hated my job so much that I needed to find something else if I was going to stay up there. Not surprisingly, nothing came of my desperate attempts to find anything better, and I got nothing but pessimism from people. By late January I had had enough. I quit my job, broke my lease (in spite of an empty threat of a lawsuit and pathetic attempts to hang criminal charges on me from my landlord), packed my belongings into my ex-wife's 1996 Corolla (she got the good car in the divorce), and hit the road.
I was sad to be leaving again, this time for good, but it felt different this time. I felt like I had built up a stronger bond with my kids through one more year of being near them. I felt like I truly had given it my all in Maine, and that it simply wasn't possible for me to have a good life there. Most of all, I felt like I could finally live with myself if I didn't see my children for more than a month. We'd figure out ways to love and stay attached to each other.
One thing missing this time is Skype. My ex broke the computer that I gave to her last year and claims that she hasn't got the money to replace it, which is funny, because she has enough money to hire a lawyer to fight me over her boyfriend's presence, not to mention that she can afford to buy him cigarettes and alcohol. Yes, I said alcohol--he is quite obviously still drinking. her own brother called me a couple of weeks ago to report that he actually witnessed the guy in the most stereotypical lush pose ever--guzzling wine from a 1.5 liter bottle then whipping it behind his back when he saw that he was being watched and pretending that nothing was amiss.
There have been some additional minor bumps:
- I sent my kids handmade Valentines last month but they told me they never came (nor did those from my parents or grandmother). My ex insists that they did come and that the kids must be lying.
- My ex "forgot" to tell me that my son was supposed to be in a play at Sunday School last weekend.
- A beer commercial came on the TV and my 3.5 year old daughter exclaimed, "That's beer!" I asked her how she knew that and she said that her alleged stepfather drinks it. Swell.
Anyhow, back to Skype, it is hard to not get to see their faces, and the phone can be a challenge at this age, especially for my daughter. Sometimes she won't talk at all. Other times she'll talk for five seconds and run off, or sing me a song and say "bye, Daddy." In spite of this, I still hear the love in their voices, and know that our bond is cemented, no matter what.
Another big change is that I no longer have any qualms about the potential of having to fight for custody. This conclusion came a bit from my ex's continued lying and enabling of her boyfriend, but more from the fact that my daughter has broken out of her iron-clad attachment to Mommy. I took the kids for 9 days during their February vacation--flying up to Maine to get them, spending a week in Maryland with my family, then returning them to Maine and flying back to Georgia (the miles are certainly piling up). During this time, my daughter was perfectly happy and fine, never asked for her mommy, refused to even talk to her on the phone, and even told me that she wanted to stay at Grandma's house when I told her it was time to go. My parents and I went up to Maine again last weekend to celebrate my son's birthday, and the kids didn't want us to leave. My son even told me that he wants to live in Georgia someday (hmm....)
Which brings me back to the legal proceedings. My trip to Maine in February included a mediation session with my ex and our lawyers. During this grueling and expensive session, I got her to agree to a bunch of constraints on her boyfriend's access to the kids, and squeezed more summer vacation time out of her as well. I wasn't exactly happy to be allowing him to stay, but at least I put some clamps on him, so I was satisfied. Well, my satisfaction lasted all of two days, when the aforementioned incident with my ex's brother came to my attention. She was in mediation one day, insisting that her boyfriend was sober and posed no threat to the kids, and the next he was guzzling Thunderbird in the garage. I was obviously irate.
I thus made the decision to not sign the mediated agreement, so it looks like we're headed for a trial after all. I don't know what will happen, but I do know that I cannot trust my ex at all. The court is going to have to decide what to do about her boyfriend and, possibly, about the kids. I don't know that I will get them, but one never knows.
As for me, I haven't found a job yet, but I've had several promising interviews, and I at least feel like there may be good news soon. More importantly, I am getting back to living again, and making it possible for me to be a good father to my children for many years to come. I know they can sense it, and that takes away some of the sting of living so far from them.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
28,500 Miles
Months later, after three trips to Atlanta, one trip to Maryland, and more loneliness and detachment, my ex-wife finally cracked...but sadly, nothing has changed, and I'm feeling more hopeless than ever. Now there have been some good times along the way. I took my son to Atlanta over Labor Day weekend, and he had an absolute blast meeting my wife's family and his many "new" cousins. I rented a real house, not just a crappy little apartment, and my kids have enjoyed having my home and yard to call their own. I took both kids to my parents' house in Maryland for Thanksgiving, at which my 91-year old grandmother finally got to meet my daughter (who is named for her), and we had a fabulous time.
In spite of this, everything else has been horrific. I'll start with the image of the bum boyfriend's car pulled up to the front of my ex's driveway with a "For Sale" sign in the window that greeted me last Sunday night when I rolled up to her house to return the kids after our Thanksgiving trip. Now, one might consider this a good sign--he's gone, so she is dumping his car. But, yet again, nothing can be so simple for the Frequent Father.
Let's pick up the narrative in early September.
My ex emailed me over Labor Day weekend to inform me that she had taken a full-time job, and would be putting the kids in daycare at once. My daughter would spend all day at daycare, and my son would be bused there after school. She apparently came to the conclusion that her boyfriend just couldn't support her financially, and that she would have to go get a job herself in order to keep her life together. I was actually quite happy about this, for two reasons: 1) she would be back in society every day, and maybe would come back to reality, and 2) the kids would be spending less time at home with the bum.
All was well for about a month--I went to work each day, saw my kids every other weekend and at least one weeknight each week, and my wife even came up for a weekend in September to go house hunting, a sign that she was serious about looking to move here. I was starting to feel like everything could finally be OK. You know where this is headed...
I came in to work on the Tuesday following Columbus Day weekend to find an email from my ex stating that she was pulling our kids out of daycare at once and that the bum would stay home with our daughter and our son would be bused home after school. She asserted that our daughter was miserable at daycare and that she would be so much better off at home. I immediately responded by saying that I was absolutely opposed to this, as her boyfriend is an unreformed alcoholic with a recent drunk driving conviction. I added that she couldn't even do this, as our divorce agreement grants us joint say over childcare arrangements. Her response was to agree to send them back to daycare, but that our daughter would go in later in the morning so she didn't have to "get up too early." Presumably, this meant that the bum would be driving her in.
I immediately figured that something must be up, as my daughter had not previously expressed any unhappiness with daycare, and she always seemed upbeat and cheerful when I picked her up. I did some searching and, much to my amazement found that the bum had been arrested for drunk driving AGAIN in August, just five days before his trial for his previous offense (he pled guilty, and is now a convicted criminal). As a result, a hearing was held on the Friday before Columbus Day, at which his driver's license was immediately suspended for three years. I did the math--he lost his license, he couldn't work anymore, they had no money, she had to pull the kids out of daycare.
I called the daycare center, and they confirmed that the bum had indeed been driving our daughter in each morning for the week following the suspension of his license. I was livid. I called my ex to inform her that I knew what was going on, and that the kids would need to return to daycare immediately, or I'd have to take legal action to ensure that they did. After arguing (yet again) that he wasn't actually drunk when he was arrested, citing his tragic medical condition, she eventually relented. I still couldn't believe that she would believe his BS about not being drunk and knowingly put a three-year old in a car with a guy with two drunk driving arrests in the preceding eight months.
A week later, I was awakened at 6:30 AM with a phone call from my ex. Our son was sick, and would have to stay home from school. Her job only pays by the hour, so if she stayed home, she wouldn't get paid. I had previously told her that, if this ever happened, I'd be happy to stay home with him, but was still quite surprised that she would actually take me up on my offer. I figured that her boyfriend must have been too drunk to watch him.
I drove to her house to get the kids, but noticed that my ex hadn't packed a lunch for our daughter--she apparently figured that I would keep both kids at home all day. I figured differently--since my son needed to rest, he would have a much easier time doing that if his three-year old sister wasn't running around. I thus brought both kids to my house, packed her lunch in my lunch bag, and dropped her at daycare. I had previously made arrangements to take my daughter to the library that night, so my plan was to get her from daycare at 5:00, and drop my son off at my ex's house. At 4:00, my ex called, informing me that she was home with our daughter, and that I could come by any time to swap the kids. Very curious...
When I picked up my daughter, she told me (as three-year olds will do) that she had dropped my lunch bag outside the daycare center. I laughed, and drove over to pick it up. The daycare director had my bag, along with a nasty surprise. The director called over one of her employees to occupy my daughter, so she could talk to me in private, saying that she was going to call me at 5:30 when all the kids were gone.
At 3:00 that afternoon, after a day apparently spent drinking alone, the bum had gotten himself so upset that I would dare drop my daughter at daycare when he was perfectly capable of taking care of her. He got in his car, drove to the daycare center, and demanded to take her home. I had previously told the director that, since his license was suspended, she was not to allow either of my kids to get in his car. She observed that he was obviously drunk, and told him to leave. She then went inside to call my ex to tell her what was g0ing on. While she was inside, the bum grabbed my daughter, ran to his car (dropping my lunch bag on the steps on the way out), put her in the FRONT SEAT of his car, and sped off. The director saw this and ran back inside to call the police. Unfortunately, the police didn't beat him home, so they weren't able to arrest him for drunk driving or child endangerment. They did, however, arrest him for driving on a suspended license and violating his bail by drinking.
The worst part of all of this was that my ex tried to keep all of this information from me. This guy had put our very young child in obvious danger, and she didn't feel the need to inform me of it. Worse yet was that she begged the daycare director not to tell me about the incident.
When I returned to my ex's house that evening, I told her that I knew all about what had happened, and asked her what she was going to do about it. She simply responded, "he's gone." I asked, "what do you mean, he's gone? Gone for good?" Her answer told me that he would be back, as she said, "If he can get himself 100% sober, then I will take him back." I told her that she was in denial and needed to get real. She slammed the door in my face.
The next evening, I called my ex to discuss things further, and she had clearly already stepped back from the "he's gone" declaration. I told her that, if she would sign an agreement that he would never see the kids again, I would keep the courts out of the picture, but if she wouldn't do that, then I would have to take legal action to ensure that he never again put our kids in danger. She refused, saying that he was a wonderful man, and was just an innocent victim of his medical condition. Over the next few days she sent me insane emails, "explaining" his condition in detail and assuring me that he was never drunk at any of the four times he had been arrested for being drunk in the preceding months.
I was left with no choice but to take action. But what action? At first, I told myself that I had to go for custody, to get the kids away from their crazy-ass mother who would protect her drunk boyfriend rather than protect her kids. I fantasized about having the judge award the kids to me so I could get the hell out of Maine once and for all and start a new life in Atlanta. But three things kept me from doing this. First and foremost, I asked myself if my daughter was really better off being wrenched away from her mother. She's three. She still breastfeeds. She gets upset if she goes a day away from her mommy. I know that her mother put her in a dangerous situation, but I couldn't live with causing this emotional damage to her. Second, my wife and I feared for our safety if I went for custody, as we felt that my ex and her boyfriend could turn violent. I was asking my wife to move up here with her daughter--what if my effort to protect my kids resulted in her kid getting hurt? Third, my odds of winning weren't all that great, and I couldn't justify the monetary and emotional toll for something that was likely to fail.
I instead decided to file a motion to find her in contempt of our divorce agreement, and to modify the agreement to bar the bum from living with the kids or having contact with them. I told my attorney that my real goal is to have a judge look my ex in the eye, wag a finger at her and tell her that she endangered her children and would lose them if she did it again. The motion is pending. We'll see what happens.
Back to the present, the car for sale was indeed a sign of the worst. After a month in jail, the bum got released and she immediately took him back. She claims that he's magically 100% sober, and is serious about staying sober this time. After all, he's accepted that he can't drive, so he's selling the car. I don't quite understand her defenses of this guy, but she's going to defend him to the death, and there's nothing I can do about that.
So where does that leave the Frequent Father? The disaster that I always predicted/feared actually happened, and yet nothing has changed. I have no idea if my legal action will produce any results, but I'm not all that optimistic. In the meantime, this lowlife got drunk, snatched my three-year old daughter from preschool, and drove drunk with her while already being suspended for two previous drunk driving arrests...and there he is, living in the house with my kids again. I've come to the conclusion that someone is going to have to be killed (or at least maimed) before I am able to do anything to change the situation.
Meanwhile, I am growing more miserable living in Maine, in spite of being near my kids. My job is terrible, and doesn't even pay enough to cover my bills (thanks to losing 30% of my income to child support), and I have no prospects of getting anything better here. It seems like every week my ex does something else to drive me nuts, and I find myself obsessing about her every action, even though I can't do anything to stop her. My wife is on course to move here in less than 30 days, but I don't even want her to come. Why have her come here to a place that I don't even want to be, where I have no career, no family, and no close friends, when I can be with her in Atlanta, get a good job, and have a good life?
I hate to say it, but returning to being the Frequent Father may have to be the answer. I have realized through this whole year that, no matter what, my kids will love me and I will always be Daddy to them, no matter how often I see them. Even now, with me living 15 minutes away, the bum is the primary male in their lives each day, and I am seeing them at most 4 days each month, and for an hour or two on an occasional weeknight. So for the other 27 days each month, they are not with me, and I am alone, miserable, and in a dead-end and low-paying job. What's better for the kids? Seeing me more, but having me be miserable and poor, or seeing me less, but having me be prosperous, healthy, and happy? I'm afraid the answer to that question lies 1,100 miles away.
In spite of this, everything else has been horrific. I'll start with the image of the bum boyfriend's car pulled up to the front of my ex's driveway with a "For Sale" sign in the window that greeted me last Sunday night when I rolled up to her house to return the kids after our Thanksgiving trip. Now, one might consider this a good sign--he's gone, so she is dumping his car. But, yet again, nothing can be so simple for the Frequent Father.
Let's pick up the narrative in early September.
My ex emailed me over Labor Day weekend to inform me that she had taken a full-time job, and would be putting the kids in daycare at once. My daughter would spend all day at daycare, and my son would be bused there after school. She apparently came to the conclusion that her boyfriend just couldn't support her financially, and that she would have to go get a job herself in order to keep her life together. I was actually quite happy about this, for two reasons: 1) she would be back in society every day, and maybe would come back to reality, and 2) the kids would be spending less time at home with the bum.
All was well for about a month--I went to work each day, saw my kids every other weekend and at least one weeknight each week, and my wife even came up for a weekend in September to go house hunting, a sign that she was serious about looking to move here. I was starting to feel like everything could finally be OK. You know where this is headed...
I came in to work on the Tuesday following Columbus Day weekend to find an email from my ex stating that she was pulling our kids out of daycare at once and that the bum would stay home with our daughter and our son would be bused home after school. She asserted that our daughter was miserable at daycare and that she would be so much better off at home. I immediately responded by saying that I was absolutely opposed to this, as her boyfriend is an unreformed alcoholic with a recent drunk driving conviction. I added that she couldn't even do this, as our divorce agreement grants us joint say over childcare arrangements. Her response was to agree to send them back to daycare, but that our daughter would go in later in the morning so she didn't have to "get up too early." Presumably, this meant that the bum would be driving her in.
I immediately figured that something must be up, as my daughter had not previously expressed any unhappiness with daycare, and she always seemed upbeat and cheerful when I picked her up. I did some searching and, much to my amazement found that the bum had been arrested for drunk driving AGAIN in August, just five days before his trial for his previous offense (he pled guilty, and is now a convicted criminal). As a result, a hearing was held on the Friday before Columbus Day, at which his driver's license was immediately suspended for three years. I did the math--he lost his license, he couldn't work anymore, they had no money, she had to pull the kids out of daycare.
I called the daycare center, and they confirmed that the bum had indeed been driving our daughter in each morning for the week following the suspension of his license. I was livid. I called my ex to inform her that I knew what was going on, and that the kids would need to return to daycare immediately, or I'd have to take legal action to ensure that they did. After arguing (yet again) that he wasn't actually drunk when he was arrested, citing his tragic medical condition, she eventually relented. I still couldn't believe that she would believe his BS about not being drunk and knowingly put a three-year old in a car with a guy with two drunk driving arrests in the preceding eight months.
A week later, I was awakened at 6:30 AM with a phone call from my ex. Our son was sick, and would have to stay home from school. Her job only pays by the hour, so if she stayed home, she wouldn't get paid. I had previously told her that, if this ever happened, I'd be happy to stay home with him, but was still quite surprised that she would actually take me up on my offer. I figured that her boyfriend must have been too drunk to watch him.
I drove to her house to get the kids, but noticed that my ex hadn't packed a lunch for our daughter--she apparently figured that I would keep both kids at home all day. I figured differently--since my son needed to rest, he would have a much easier time doing that if his three-year old sister wasn't running around. I thus brought both kids to my house, packed her lunch in my lunch bag, and dropped her at daycare. I had previously made arrangements to take my daughter to the library that night, so my plan was to get her from daycare at 5:00, and drop my son off at my ex's house. At 4:00, my ex called, informing me that she was home with our daughter, and that I could come by any time to swap the kids. Very curious...
When I picked up my daughter, she told me (as three-year olds will do) that she had dropped my lunch bag outside the daycare center. I laughed, and drove over to pick it up. The daycare director had my bag, along with a nasty surprise. The director called over one of her employees to occupy my daughter, so she could talk to me in private, saying that she was going to call me at 5:30 when all the kids were gone.
At 3:00 that afternoon, after a day apparently spent drinking alone, the bum had gotten himself so upset that I would dare drop my daughter at daycare when he was perfectly capable of taking care of her. He got in his car, drove to the daycare center, and demanded to take her home. I had previously told the director that, since his license was suspended, she was not to allow either of my kids to get in his car. She observed that he was obviously drunk, and told him to leave. She then went inside to call my ex to tell her what was g0ing on. While she was inside, the bum grabbed my daughter, ran to his car (dropping my lunch bag on the steps on the way out), put her in the FRONT SEAT of his car, and sped off. The director saw this and ran back inside to call the police. Unfortunately, the police didn't beat him home, so they weren't able to arrest him for drunk driving or child endangerment. They did, however, arrest him for driving on a suspended license and violating his bail by drinking.
The worst part of all of this was that my ex tried to keep all of this information from me. This guy had put our very young child in obvious danger, and she didn't feel the need to inform me of it. Worse yet was that she begged the daycare director not to tell me about the incident.
When I returned to my ex's house that evening, I told her that I knew all about what had happened, and asked her what she was going to do about it. She simply responded, "he's gone." I asked, "what do you mean, he's gone? Gone for good?" Her answer told me that he would be back, as she said, "If he can get himself 100% sober, then I will take him back." I told her that she was in denial and needed to get real. She slammed the door in my face.
The next evening, I called my ex to discuss things further, and she had clearly already stepped back from the "he's gone" declaration. I told her that, if she would sign an agreement that he would never see the kids again, I would keep the courts out of the picture, but if she wouldn't do that, then I would have to take legal action to ensure that he never again put our kids in danger. She refused, saying that he was a wonderful man, and was just an innocent victim of his medical condition. Over the next few days she sent me insane emails, "explaining" his condition in detail and assuring me that he was never drunk at any of the four times he had been arrested for being drunk in the preceding months.
I was left with no choice but to take action. But what action? At first, I told myself that I had to go for custody, to get the kids away from their crazy-ass mother who would protect her drunk boyfriend rather than protect her kids. I fantasized about having the judge award the kids to me so I could get the hell out of Maine once and for all and start a new life in Atlanta. But three things kept me from doing this. First and foremost, I asked myself if my daughter was really better off being wrenched away from her mother. She's three. She still breastfeeds. She gets upset if she goes a day away from her mommy. I know that her mother put her in a dangerous situation, but I couldn't live with causing this emotional damage to her. Second, my wife and I feared for our safety if I went for custody, as we felt that my ex and her boyfriend could turn violent. I was asking my wife to move up here with her daughter--what if my effort to protect my kids resulted in her kid getting hurt? Third, my odds of winning weren't all that great, and I couldn't justify the monetary and emotional toll for something that was likely to fail.
I instead decided to file a motion to find her in contempt of our divorce agreement, and to modify the agreement to bar the bum from living with the kids or having contact with them. I told my attorney that my real goal is to have a judge look my ex in the eye, wag a finger at her and tell her that she endangered her children and would lose them if she did it again. The motion is pending. We'll see what happens.
Back to the present, the car for sale was indeed a sign of the worst. After a month in jail, the bum got released and she immediately took him back. She claims that he's magically 100% sober, and is serious about staying sober this time. After all, he's accepted that he can't drive, so he's selling the car. I don't quite understand her defenses of this guy, but she's going to defend him to the death, and there's nothing I can do about that.
So where does that leave the Frequent Father? The disaster that I always predicted/feared actually happened, and yet nothing has changed. I have no idea if my legal action will produce any results, but I'm not all that optimistic. In the meantime, this lowlife got drunk, snatched my three-year old daughter from preschool, and drove drunk with her while already being suspended for two previous drunk driving arrests...and there he is, living in the house with my kids again. I've come to the conclusion that someone is going to have to be killed (or at least maimed) before I am able to do anything to change the situation.
Meanwhile, I am growing more miserable living in Maine, in spite of being near my kids. My job is terrible, and doesn't even pay enough to cover my bills (thanks to losing 30% of my income to child support), and I have no prospects of getting anything better here. It seems like every week my ex does something else to drive me nuts, and I find myself obsessing about her every action, even though I can't do anything to stop her. My wife is on course to move here in less than 30 days, but I don't even want her to come. Why have her come here to a place that I don't even want to be, where I have no career, no family, and no close friends, when I can be with her in Atlanta, get a good job, and have a good life?
I hate to say it, but returning to being the Frequent Father may have to be the answer. I have realized through this whole year that, no matter what, my kids will love me and I will always be Daddy to them, no matter how often I see them. Even now, with me living 15 minutes away, the bum is the primary male in their lives each day, and I am seeing them at most 4 days each month, and for an hour or two on an occasional weeknight. So for the other 27 days each month, they are not with me, and I am alone, miserable, and in a dead-end and low-paying job. What's better for the kids? Seeing me more, but having me be miserable and poor, or seeing me less, but having me be prosperous, healthy, and happy? I'm afraid the answer to that question lies 1,100 miles away.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
20,900 Miles
August is full of birthdays in my world. You heard about my daughter's birthday last time, and mine was three days later, then my stepdaughter's is next week (she turns five). But the party was last weekend, as she just started school yesterday, and we wanted to get it out of the way before then. So, yes, I did the reverse of my previous seven months and flew down to Atlanta for the weekend. And what a weekend! Friday night I celebrated my birthday with my wife's whole family, then on Saturday was the birthday party, which featured 35 people, a swimming pool, and 7 kids sleeping over at our house. Not very relaxing, but certainly lots of fun. Then came Sunday, when I had to say goodbye to my new family to fly back to Maine to go to work and to see my own kids. What a life.
The rest of the weekend was spent discussing the who, what, where, when, why, and how of my wife and her daughter potentially moving up to Maine. It seems like we've got that under control in terms of the logistics, but there is the matter of her ex-husband potentially trying to stop her from moving (not likely), and the massive guilt trip that her family is laying on her to sway her from leaving. I understand the motivation, but she's 36 years old, and they are treating her like a child.
As for me, I don't need a guilt trip to feel guilty. All weekend long we were surrounded by family and friends, and my stepdaughter was revelling in having so many cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. around to celebrate with her. After I left town on Sunday night she told my wife, "I don't want to leave. I want to have my birthday here every year." And I haven't gotten a good night's sleep ever since. While I know that being near my kids is terrific, the fact is, they're all I've got here. I have no family in Maine, few friends, and no real network of people to call my own. I could, of course, make an effort to build such a network, but my attention is taken up by work, my kids, my wife (phone calls every night make it hard to get out), and I haven't got the time, energy, or money for much more.
So when I think about taking my wife and stepdaughter from their complete, happy world into my uncertain one, I feel awful. I'm trying to tell myself that we'll make friends and find a way to have something of a life, but it seems very hard to imagine.
In other news, things get ever grimmer at my ex's house. My son finished his basketball camp two weeks ago, but doesn't start school for two more weeks. In the meantime he basically hangs around the house all day or plays by himself in the driveway, as she has no money, no friends, and no inclination to do anything. I took my kids out to dinner last night and tried asking them about what they've been doing, but they never really say much, because there isn't much to say.
And things continue to get worse with her family. I went to her mother's house with the kids last week, because she hadn't seen them in months (since the bum got drunk in her barn). I was struck by the fact that all of the pictures in her whole house of my kids and/or my ex were gone. I found out that my ex had let herself into her mom's house and taken all of the pictures. At best, it's psychotic. At worst, it's burglary. Either way, it ain't good.
I also found out that she has been working for several months, getting paid under the table by a friend of her brother's. I want to blow the whistle on her with child support, but there is no way to prove that she's working, and her employer won't confirm it, because he'd get in trouble with the IRS. Of course now that she's not speaking to her brother, maybe his friend will find some way to help me rat her out. Even so, she's not making much ($600 a month), and that won't get you far in this world.
As for her brother, I took the kids to his house last night, and we had a lot of fun. He clearly misses his niece and nephew and I feel horrible for him that he doesn't get to see them. Naturally my kids told their mother where they had been and, sure enough, she sent nasty email to his girlfriend that night, which was aimed at getting her to get rid of him (she claimed, among other things, that he cheats on her, slept with a transsexual, and has AIDS). It's just pathetic.
I ask myself how much longer this can go on. How much longer can she live with no family, no friends, no money, and nothing but a drunk to fill up her life. The kids start school soon (my daughter will be in preschool 2 days a week), and she won't even have then for much longer. She is going to have to crack sooner or later--hopefully sooner. I guess I have to just be patient and be ready when she does.
The rest of the weekend was spent discussing the who, what, where, when, why, and how of my wife and her daughter potentially moving up to Maine. It seems like we've got that under control in terms of the logistics, but there is the matter of her ex-husband potentially trying to stop her from moving (not likely), and the massive guilt trip that her family is laying on her to sway her from leaving. I understand the motivation, but she's 36 years old, and they are treating her like a child.
As for me, I don't need a guilt trip to feel guilty. All weekend long we were surrounded by family and friends, and my stepdaughter was revelling in having so many cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. around to celebrate with her. After I left town on Sunday night she told my wife, "I don't want to leave. I want to have my birthday here every year." And I haven't gotten a good night's sleep ever since. While I know that being near my kids is terrific, the fact is, they're all I've got here. I have no family in Maine, few friends, and no real network of people to call my own. I could, of course, make an effort to build such a network, but my attention is taken up by work, my kids, my wife (phone calls every night make it hard to get out), and I haven't got the time, energy, or money for much more.
So when I think about taking my wife and stepdaughter from their complete, happy world into my uncertain one, I feel awful. I'm trying to tell myself that we'll make friends and find a way to have something of a life, but it seems very hard to imagine.
In other news, things get ever grimmer at my ex's house. My son finished his basketball camp two weeks ago, but doesn't start school for two more weeks. In the meantime he basically hangs around the house all day or plays by himself in the driveway, as she has no money, no friends, and no inclination to do anything. I took my kids out to dinner last night and tried asking them about what they've been doing, but they never really say much, because there isn't much to say.
And things continue to get worse with her family. I went to her mother's house with the kids last week, because she hadn't seen them in months (since the bum got drunk in her barn). I was struck by the fact that all of the pictures in her whole house of my kids and/or my ex were gone. I found out that my ex had let herself into her mom's house and taken all of the pictures. At best, it's psychotic. At worst, it's burglary. Either way, it ain't good.
I also found out that she has been working for several months, getting paid under the table by a friend of her brother's. I want to blow the whistle on her with child support, but there is no way to prove that she's working, and her employer won't confirm it, because he'd get in trouble with the IRS. Of course now that she's not speaking to her brother, maybe his friend will find some way to help me rat her out. Even so, she's not making much ($600 a month), and that won't get you far in this world.
As for her brother, I took the kids to his house last night, and we had a lot of fun. He clearly misses his niece and nephew and I feel horrible for him that he doesn't get to see them. Naturally my kids told their mother where they had been and, sure enough, she sent nasty email to his girlfriend that night, which was aimed at getting her to get rid of him (she claimed, among other things, that he cheats on her, slept with a transsexual, and has AIDS). It's just pathetic.
I ask myself how much longer this can go on. How much longer can she live with no family, no friends, no money, and nothing but a drunk to fill up her life. The kids start school soon (my daughter will be in preschool 2 days a week), and she won't even have then for much longer. She is going to have to crack sooner or later--hopefully sooner. I guess I have to just be patient and be ready when she does.
Monday, August 9, 2010
18,700 Miles
Seeing as how the number after the comma in this posting's title is odd, I'm in the midst of a one-way trip. I've been back in Maine for 10 days and started my job last week. It's going pretty well, I guess--I like the work and am enjoying being busy again, but there is the matter of my boss' wife being literally on her death bed, which makes things more than a little gloomy. That's all secondary, though, as I've seen my kids on 5 of the 10 days that I've been here. I remind myself that seeing them makes everything else worthwhile.
This past weekend was my beloved daughter's 3rd birthday. She had asked me several times to come to her party, but her mother decided not to invite me. In fact, her mother decided not to invite anyone except for her dad. She didn't invite her mother or brother, not after the drunken incident with the fiance. And she's got no friends, so nobody else was there. It breaks my heart.
When I went to pick up my kids that afternoon, it all seemed OK. They came running out of the house, and hopped right into my car. I actually exchanged a few pleasant words with my ex in the process. But the bum had other ideas. While I was buckling my kids into their car seats, he snuck up behind me and was standing about five feet away, staring me down. When I closed the door and stood up, I saw him glaring at me, as if he was about to pounce. I looked over and asked, "Do you have a problem?
He said, "You know, she wakes up twice at night crying for her mother. Can you handle that?"
I replied, "You're not her mother. This doesn't concern you." I then glanced over at my ex, and said, "Do you have something to say to me? Because if you do, I'll be happy to discuss it."
She said nothing. He jumped back in and said, "Well I'm her stepfather."
I took two steps towards him and said, "I told you, this doesn't concern you. Now get out of my way."
"What?" he replied.
"Get the FUCK out of my way," I said.
He stomped off, threatening to call the police (for what, I don't know exactly). I drove away in a huff.
The good news is that the rest of my daughter's birthday weekend was good news. My birthday present to my little girl was to get her a "princess bed." I bought a daybed--white with pink roses--and princess sheets and a princess comforter to give her a special place at my apartment for her to sleep. And to my great joy, she did sleep! No crying for mommy--she just snuggled up in her new bed, put her thumb in her mouth and went right to sleep. I can't possibly express in words the joy I felt watching her close her eyes and go to sleep in my house. It almost made up for all of my suffering. Almost.
On Sunday I drove my kids up to Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire, where an old college friend has a family cabin right on the lake. We spent the whole day swimming and riding around in a paddle boat. It was the perfect summer day in New England, and I'm sure they'll remember it for a long, long time. I dropped them off and came back to my apartment to get ready for the work week.
Later that night I got an email from my ex brother-in-law's girlfriend. They apparently had tried to send a gift over to my daughter, but my ex refused to accept it. She told her dad (who was the go-between) that if he didn't take it back, she would throw it away. She is so angry over the incident in the barn that she intends to never speak with her brother again, I guess. I called her brother up to discuss things, and he kept me on the phone for 45 minutes, telling me all sorts of wild stories. He told me that she admitted to him as recently as 2 months ago that the fiance is still drinking heavily (in direct contrast to what she's told me). He said that she's been working for several months for a friend of his, taking money under the table, which of course violates her child support agreement and constitutes tax evasion. He also told me that his friend (her employer) reports that, while she's on the phone with him for work, he's heard the fiance screaming obscenities at my children in the background.
Given her brother's checkered past, I'm not sure what I believe, but I know he loves my children, and I also know that he is deeply hurt by his sister's behavior. I have no illusions that these latest twists and turns will get me any closer to getting custody of my kids, but at least I'm living close by to keep an eye on things.
I've obviously left out the part about now living 1,100 miles away from my wife and stepdaughter. That's a whole 'nother story, one that will have to wait for another day.
This past weekend was my beloved daughter's 3rd birthday. She had asked me several times to come to her party, but her mother decided not to invite me. In fact, her mother decided not to invite anyone except for her dad. She didn't invite her mother or brother, not after the drunken incident with the fiance. And she's got no friends, so nobody else was there. It breaks my heart.
When I went to pick up my kids that afternoon, it all seemed OK. They came running out of the house, and hopped right into my car. I actually exchanged a few pleasant words with my ex in the process. But the bum had other ideas. While I was buckling my kids into their car seats, he snuck up behind me and was standing about five feet away, staring me down. When I closed the door and stood up, I saw him glaring at me, as if he was about to pounce. I looked over and asked, "Do you have a problem?
He said, "You know, she wakes up twice at night crying for her mother. Can you handle that?"
I replied, "You're not her mother. This doesn't concern you." I then glanced over at my ex, and said, "Do you have something to say to me? Because if you do, I'll be happy to discuss it."
She said nothing. He jumped back in and said, "Well I'm her stepfather."
I took two steps towards him and said, "I told you, this doesn't concern you. Now get out of my way."
"What?" he replied.
"Get the FUCK out of my way," I said.
He stomped off, threatening to call the police (for what, I don't know exactly). I drove away in a huff.
The good news is that the rest of my daughter's birthday weekend was good news. My birthday present to my little girl was to get her a "princess bed." I bought a daybed--white with pink roses--and princess sheets and a princess comforter to give her a special place at my apartment for her to sleep. And to my great joy, she did sleep! No crying for mommy--she just snuggled up in her new bed, put her thumb in her mouth and went right to sleep. I can't possibly express in words the joy I felt watching her close her eyes and go to sleep in my house. It almost made up for all of my suffering. Almost.
On Sunday I drove my kids up to Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire, where an old college friend has a family cabin right on the lake. We spent the whole day swimming and riding around in a paddle boat. It was the perfect summer day in New England, and I'm sure they'll remember it for a long, long time. I dropped them off and came back to my apartment to get ready for the work week.
Later that night I got an email from my ex brother-in-law's girlfriend. They apparently had tried to send a gift over to my daughter, but my ex refused to accept it. She told her dad (who was the go-between) that if he didn't take it back, she would throw it away. She is so angry over the incident in the barn that she intends to never speak with her brother again, I guess. I called her brother up to discuss things, and he kept me on the phone for 45 minutes, telling me all sorts of wild stories. He told me that she admitted to him as recently as 2 months ago that the fiance is still drinking heavily (in direct contrast to what she's told me). He said that she's been working for several months for a friend of his, taking money under the table, which of course violates her child support agreement and constitutes tax evasion. He also told me that his friend (her employer) reports that, while she's on the phone with him for work, he's heard the fiance screaming obscenities at my children in the background.
Given her brother's checkered past, I'm not sure what I believe, but I know he loves my children, and I also know that he is deeply hurt by his sister's behavior. I have no illusions that these latest twists and turns will get me any closer to getting custody of my kids, but at least I'm living close by to keep an eye on things.
I've obviously left out the part about now living 1,100 miles away from my wife and stepdaughter. That's a whole 'nother story, one that will have to wait for another day.
Monday, July 26, 2010
17,600 Miles
In this edition: our hero fights for justice and then gets yet another unexpected surprise that may change everything.
Let me be straight--I don't like lawyers. I don't care for the way that they create strawmen just to destroy them, I don't like how they can twist words to convict the innocent or exonerate the guilty, I don't like how they can harbor secrets that can lead to justice all in the name of attorney-client privilege and, most of all, I really don't like how they can bill you for six minutes of their time when it took them 15 seconds to read your email. In this case, though, it was all worth it.
So I had my day in court. My attorney told me that he KNEW my ex would show up and burst out in tears after telling the judge what a horrible, horrible person I was and how terribly I was persecuting her. He was right. She painted a picture of me as a vicious monster threatening to steal her children away from her, the poor, innocent mommy. My attorney then got up and proceeded to blow holes in her story like a howitzer pulverizing a home made of balsa wood. He attacked with ferocity, asking "isn't it true that your fiance was arrested for drunk driving?" and "isn't it true that you and your children are living with a known domestic batterer?" Every time she would say, "Well he is innocent," or "That's not exactly right," he would cut her off and say, "Yes or no, ma'am. Is that true or not?" and she would have to admit that it was. The coup de grace came after he got her to admit that her fiance was a longtime alcoholic but that he couldn't have been drunk on the morning of his most recent arrest because she only bought him two beers. That's right, folks, she admitted in court that she bought beer to give to an alcoholic!
Needless to say, after her weepy display of victimhood and my attorney's subsequent bodyslamming, the judge swiftly dismissed her petition to slap me with a protection order. I walked out of the court a little bit lighter in the wallet, but confident that she would never again try to use the justice system to bring me down. Before I left, my attorney said to me, "It's clear that she just doesn't view reality the way the rest of the world does." So true.
That matter now settled, I got to enjoy some more time with my kids, going to the beach several times and generally enjoying the Maine summer. But, alas, it was just me and them, and my wife and her daughter were back in Atlanta. The whole trip I kept wishing that we could all be together.
Well, that brings us to part two of this posting. The very afternoon of my court date, I had a follow-up meeting with a small consulting firm in the Portland area with which I had tried for years to get a job. They had made me an offer months earlier, but the terms were not acceptable, so I dismissed it out of hand. Given my total unemployment and my newfound need to be in Maine for potential legal reasons (custody battles are far easier when you live nearby), this time when they made me an offer, I really seriously considered it.
I went back to Atlanta and talked it over with my wife. Since the job was not certain for the long term, we agreed that, if I took it, she would remain down south for the time being and we'd be in a long-distance relationship all over again. I gave myself a week to make a last-ditch effort to find a job in Atlanta. I called dozens of contacts to follow up on earlier discussions, but nobody had anything for me nor did anyone know of anything for me. So that was that--I needed a job, and I said yes.
And thus begins the next chapter. I start my job in Maine next week, and am about to head up there by myself. I won't need to pile up frequent father miles to see my own kids for now, but I'm still going to need to get on airplanes to see my wife and stepdaughter. I'll also still not be the primary caregiver so, at best, I'll see my kids once a week. It won't be as daunting as it has been, but I suppose that every non-custodial dad has some "frequent father" in him. We'll see how it goes.
Let me be straight--I don't like lawyers. I don't care for the way that they create strawmen just to destroy them, I don't like how they can twist words to convict the innocent or exonerate the guilty, I don't like how they can harbor secrets that can lead to justice all in the name of attorney-client privilege and, most of all, I really don't like how they can bill you for six minutes of their time when it took them 15 seconds to read your email. In this case, though, it was all worth it.
So I had my day in court. My attorney told me that he KNEW my ex would show up and burst out in tears after telling the judge what a horrible, horrible person I was and how terribly I was persecuting her. He was right. She painted a picture of me as a vicious monster threatening to steal her children away from her, the poor, innocent mommy. My attorney then got up and proceeded to blow holes in her story like a howitzer pulverizing a home made of balsa wood. He attacked with ferocity, asking "isn't it true that your fiance was arrested for drunk driving?" and "isn't it true that you and your children are living with a known domestic batterer?" Every time she would say, "Well he is innocent," or "That's not exactly right," he would cut her off and say, "Yes or no, ma'am. Is that true or not?" and she would have to admit that it was. The coup de grace came after he got her to admit that her fiance was a longtime alcoholic but that he couldn't have been drunk on the morning of his most recent arrest because she only bought him two beers. That's right, folks, she admitted in court that she bought beer to give to an alcoholic!
Needless to say, after her weepy display of victimhood and my attorney's subsequent bodyslamming, the judge swiftly dismissed her petition to slap me with a protection order. I walked out of the court a little bit lighter in the wallet, but confident that she would never again try to use the justice system to bring me down. Before I left, my attorney said to me, "It's clear that she just doesn't view reality the way the rest of the world does." So true.
That matter now settled, I got to enjoy some more time with my kids, going to the beach several times and generally enjoying the Maine summer. But, alas, it was just me and them, and my wife and her daughter were back in Atlanta. The whole trip I kept wishing that we could all be together.
Well, that brings us to part two of this posting. The very afternoon of my court date, I had a follow-up meeting with a small consulting firm in the Portland area with which I had tried for years to get a job. They had made me an offer months earlier, but the terms were not acceptable, so I dismissed it out of hand. Given my total unemployment and my newfound need to be in Maine for potential legal reasons (custody battles are far easier when you live nearby), this time when they made me an offer, I really seriously considered it.
I went back to Atlanta and talked it over with my wife. Since the job was not certain for the long term, we agreed that, if I took it, she would remain down south for the time being and we'd be in a long-distance relationship all over again. I gave myself a week to make a last-ditch effort to find a job in Atlanta. I called dozens of contacts to follow up on earlier discussions, but nobody had anything for me nor did anyone know of anything for me. So that was that--I needed a job, and I said yes.
And thus begins the next chapter. I start my job in Maine next week, and am about to head up there by myself. I won't need to pile up frequent father miles to see my own kids for now, but I'm still going to need to get on airplanes to see my wife and stepdaughter. I'll also still not be the primary caregiver so, at best, I'll see my kids once a week. It won't be as daunting as it has been, but I suppose that every non-custodial dad has some "frequent father" in him. We'll see how it goes.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
15,400 Miles
I am back in Atlanta again, after two more trips to Maine. The first was over Memorial Day and was nearly terrific--my new wife and her daughter finally came along, and for a few days we felt like a family. The two of us and our three children collectively got to spend good time together, with our daughters becoming instant friends and things generally feeling terrific. There was just one small problem--my daughter didn't much like the fact that, at the end of each day, she had to go back to her mother's house and not get to have a sleepover with her brother and her "new sister."
One night she decided that enough was enough and she wanted to stay over at my house. The decision came while sitting in the driveway at my ex's house. When my daughter said that she wanted to stay with me, I went inside to ask my ex if that was OK, and she reluctantly agreed. So we all went back to my apartment for our sleepover, and all was great. The girls got in their jammies and watched a Dora video together on the bed while my son played in the living room. We were all ready for bed, and I crowded onto the futon with my son to my left and my daughter to my right. She snuggled up against me, put her thumb in her mouth, and prepared to drift off to sleep. But then she sprang up and said, "one more thing," and went and got a toy to bring into bed. And then another "one more thing," and another, and another. Finally, she demanded to go into the bedroom with the girls to see if they were asleep. When she saw that they were still awake, she wanted to stay awake too. I said, "No, it's sleepy time now."
And then all hell broke loose.
My daughter started screaming, "I want Maaaaamaaaa. I want milk," over and over again. For 20 minutes I tried to calm her down, but she never did. Finally, I put her in the car, hoping that she would fall asleep, but she just kept on screaming and screaming, so I decided to head for her mother's house. Upon arriving, I handed her off to my ex, who flashed me a smug smile, and told her that she had two months to get our daughter emotionally prepared for staying at my house overnight, as she was bound by our divorce order to let her stay with me come her third birthday in August. My ex just stared at me as if I had just suggested that she put our daughter to bed with a drink of cyanide. I left in disgust.
During this trip I interviewed for and was offered a job in Rhode Island (2.5 hours from my kids), but had to turn in down, as it was only a short-term job, so my wife and stepdaughter couldn't move with me. Taking it would thus mean working in one place, and then "commuting" to both Maine and Atlanta--it just wasn't feasible.
Two weeks later, after returning to Atlanta, I was checking my email late at night when I got a Skype call from my ex-brother-in-law. He was calling me from Holland, where he was on tour with his theater company, and passed on the urgent news that my ex's fiance had been arrested...again. He had been hired by my ex's mother to do some yard work, but instead of working, he traipsed out to the barn behind her house and proceeded to down 1..2...3...4 full 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor. He was discovered with bottle #5 in hand by my ex's other brother, who told him to leave at once. He called up my ex to pick him up, and she arrived with my daughter in the car. Upon arriving she got out of her car and began screaming at her brother and his girlfriend. During this confrontation, my daughter was screaming “Mommy! Mommy!” from the car. Her brother's girlfriend suggested that she should attend to her crying child, to which my ex responded, “Shut the fuck up, you fat fucking warthog!” She then left the scene, and her brother called the cops, who came and arrested her fiance shortly thereafter for being drunk, in violation of the bail from his earlier arrest for DUI.
I then called the brother in Maine (who had been directly involved) and he further informed me that my ex continues to deny that her in fiance is drinking, in spite of the clear evidence. He also reports that the fiance has not worked since being fired following his DUI arrest in February, and that my ex continues to refuse to find a job. In the meantime, she has been receiving money from her parents, and that he believes that she has sold her food stamp credits in exchange for cash, which is a crime. His last word to me was that his sister was dead to him, and that even their mother no longer wanted to have anything to do with her.
I immediately decided that I needed to go up to Maine and sort things out, so I bought a plane ticket to come up for a whole week, figuring that my employer would understand. Instead, I was told to come back two days earlier than planned, or else, even though there was no work that really needed to get done. I was subsequently asked by my boss to resign, which I did on the spot. No part time job is worth that much.
So there I was, up in Maine for a whole week with my kids. It should have been great, right? Perfect weather, quality time, going to the beach, etc. Unfortunately, with the various clouds hanging over my world, it just didn't feel quite right. My little pseudo-apartment, which lacks TV, internet access, toys, books, and anything resembling a comfortable environment for kids, is simply a stressful place to have kids for day after day. Adding to the confusion was that my parents came up too--on the one hand, it was good to have them around, on the other hand, two more people in the house often created more stress than anything. On top of it, back in Atlanta, my wife was having chest pains and went to the ER one night where she was diagnosed with having a gall bladder issue (that remains unresolved).
In the midst of this, I went to see an expensive but highly recommended attorney to discuss what, if anything, I could do to get my wife and her alcoholic fiance in line before something happened to my kids. He told me flat out that the only way I stood a chance to get primary custody of the kids was to move back to Maine at once, and that even then, it would be a bruising and (naturally) expensive battle.
After meeting with him and realizing that the courts may not be the answer, I decided that it was time to appeal to whatever was left of my ex's conscience. I called her up to see if we could set up a time to meet to talk things over. She refused, and told me that I could say what I wanted over the phone. So I told her flat out that if she didn't rid herself of her fiance, I would have to take her back to court. We got into yet another argument, and she hung up on me. That evening, as I was on my way to drop off my daughter for the night, my ex called me and instructed me to park on the street, not the driveway. When I pulled up in front of my house, her fiance came out of the house, stood 2 feet behind me while I got my daughter out of her car seat, and all but snatched her from my arms when I turned around to face him. He told me to leave at once. I said that I needed to ask my ex something, and he said, "if you go to the door, I'm calling the cops." I told him that I still was co-owner of the house and he couldn't call the cops on me. My ex then came out and told me that she would call the cops, and refused to even answer my simple question regarding when she'd be dropping off my daughter in the morning.
For the last three days of my trip it went on like this--we exchanged the kids without words. I wonder what is going through their minds when they see their mother not even willing to say hello to their father. It can't be good for them.
Then came the final surprise.
Yesterday, as I dropped off the kids for the last time before heading to the airport, I noticed a police car parked down the block, and wondered what was up. After I let the kids out of my car and got back in, the police car pulled up next to me, and the officer asked to talk to me. She then served me with a Protection from Abuse petition that my ex had made--she apparently believes that my repeated entreaties to her to get rid of her drunken criminal of a fiance constitute emotional abuse.
Now my next trip to Maine will center on going to court to defend myself against charges that I am somehow abusing her--no matter that I have never threatened her or anyone else with any sort of violence, no matter that all I have done is to beg her to wake up and see what the rest of the world (especially her own family) sees. I am the one who was put out of his home, replaced by a worthless drunk. I am the one who has been threatened with violence. I am the one who is trying his best to get a job, be a good husband, and most of all, do everything I can to give my kids the lives the deserve. And now I'm the one being treated like the criminal.
One night she decided that enough was enough and she wanted to stay over at my house. The decision came while sitting in the driveway at my ex's house. When my daughter said that she wanted to stay with me, I went inside to ask my ex if that was OK, and she reluctantly agreed. So we all went back to my apartment for our sleepover, and all was great. The girls got in their jammies and watched a Dora video together on the bed while my son played in the living room. We were all ready for bed, and I crowded onto the futon with my son to my left and my daughter to my right. She snuggled up against me, put her thumb in her mouth, and prepared to drift off to sleep. But then she sprang up and said, "one more thing," and went and got a toy to bring into bed. And then another "one more thing," and another, and another. Finally, she demanded to go into the bedroom with the girls to see if they were asleep. When she saw that they were still awake, she wanted to stay awake too. I said, "No, it's sleepy time now."
And then all hell broke loose.
My daughter started screaming, "I want Maaaaamaaaa. I want milk," over and over again. For 20 minutes I tried to calm her down, but she never did. Finally, I put her in the car, hoping that she would fall asleep, but she just kept on screaming and screaming, so I decided to head for her mother's house. Upon arriving, I handed her off to my ex, who flashed me a smug smile, and told her that she had two months to get our daughter emotionally prepared for staying at my house overnight, as she was bound by our divorce order to let her stay with me come her third birthday in August. My ex just stared at me as if I had just suggested that she put our daughter to bed with a drink of cyanide. I left in disgust.
During this trip I interviewed for and was offered a job in Rhode Island (2.5 hours from my kids), but had to turn in down, as it was only a short-term job, so my wife and stepdaughter couldn't move with me. Taking it would thus mean working in one place, and then "commuting" to both Maine and Atlanta--it just wasn't feasible.
Two weeks later, after returning to Atlanta, I was checking my email late at night when I got a Skype call from my ex-brother-in-law. He was calling me from Holland, where he was on tour with his theater company, and passed on the urgent news that my ex's fiance had been arrested...again. He had been hired by my ex's mother to do some yard work, but instead of working, he traipsed out to the barn behind her house and proceeded to down 1..2...3...4 full 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor. He was discovered with bottle #5 in hand by my ex's other brother, who told him to leave at once. He called up my ex to pick him up, and she arrived with my daughter in the car. Upon arriving she got out of her car and began screaming at her brother and his girlfriend. During this confrontation, my daughter was screaming “Mommy! Mommy!” from the car. Her brother's girlfriend suggested that she should attend to her crying child, to which my ex responded, “Shut the fuck up, you fat fucking warthog!” She then left the scene, and her brother called the cops, who came and arrested her fiance shortly thereafter for being drunk, in violation of the bail from his earlier arrest for DUI.
I then called the brother in Maine (who had been directly involved) and he further informed me that my ex continues to deny that her in fiance is drinking, in spite of the clear evidence. He also reports that the fiance has not worked since being fired following his DUI arrest in February, and that my ex continues to refuse to find a job. In the meantime, she has been receiving money from her parents, and that he believes that she has sold her food stamp credits in exchange for cash, which is a crime. His last word to me was that his sister was dead to him, and that even their mother no longer wanted to have anything to do with her.
I immediately decided that I needed to go up to Maine and sort things out, so I bought a plane ticket to come up for a whole week, figuring that my employer would understand. Instead, I was told to come back two days earlier than planned, or else, even though there was no work that really needed to get done. I was subsequently asked by my boss to resign, which I did on the spot. No part time job is worth that much.
So there I was, up in Maine for a whole week with my kids. It should have been great, right? Perfect weather, quality time, going to the beach, etc. Unfortunately, with the various clouds hanging over my world, it just didn't feel quite right. My little pseudo-apartment, which lacks TV, internet access, toys, books, and anything resembling a comfortable environment for kids, is simply a stressful place to have kids for day after day. Adding to the confusion was that my parents came up too--on the one hand, it was good to have them around, on the other hand, two more people in the house often created more stress than anything. On top of it, back in Atlanta, my wife was having chest pains and went to the ER one night where she was diagnosed with having a gall bladder issue (that remains unresolved).
In the midst of this, I went to see an expensive but highly recommended attorney to discuss what, if anything, I could do to get my wife and her alcoholic fiance in line before something happened to my kids. He told me flat out that the only way I stood a chance to get primary custody of the kids was to move back to Maine at once, and that even then, it would be a bruising and (naturally) expensive battle.
After meeting with him and realizing that the courts may not be the answer, I decided that it was time to appeal to whatever was left of my ex's conscience. I called her up to see if we could set up a time to meet to talk things over. She refused, and told me that I could say what I wanted over the phone. So I told her flat out that if she didn't rid herself of her fiance, I would have to take her back to court. We got into yet another argument, and she hung up on me. That evening, as I was on my way to drop off my daughter for the night, my ex called me and instructed me to park on the street, not the driveway. When I pulled up in front of my house, her fiance came out of the house, stood 2 feet behind me while I got my daughter out of her car seat, and all but snatched her from my arms when I turned around to face him. He told me to leave at once. I said that I needed to ask my ex something, and he said, "if you go to the door, I'm calling the cops." I told him that I still was co-owner of the house and he couldn't call the cops on me. My ex then came out and told me that she would call the cops, and refused to even answer my simple question regarding when she'd be dropping off my daughter in the morning.
For the last three days of my trip it went on like this--we exchanged the kids without words. I wonder what is going through their minds when they see their mother not even willing to say hello to their father. It can't be good for them.
Then came the final surprise.
Yesterday, as I dropped off the kids for the last time before heading to the airport, I noticed a police car parked down the block, and wondered what was up. After I let the kids out of my car and got back in, the police car pulled up next to me, and the officer asked to talk to me. She then served me with a Protection from Abuse petition that my ex had made--she apparently believes that my repeated entreaties to her to get rid of her drunken criminal of a fiance constitute emotional abuse.
Now my next trip to Maine will center on going to court to defend myself against charges that I am somehow abusing her--no matter that I have never threatened her or anyone else with any sort of violence, no matter that all I have done is to beg her to wake up and see what the rest of the world (especially her own family) sees. I am the one who was put out of his home, replaced by a worthless drunk. I am the one who has been threatened with violence. I am the one who is trying his best to get a job, be a good husband, and most of all, do everything I can to give my kids the lives the deserve. And now I'm the one being treated like the criminal.
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