Or Maybe I Should Just Shut Up

Hello, internets.

This is going to be a quick one because now both, not one, of my kids are sick and I am back at work. Spring Break is over. And I strongly suspect, from the roiling in my own gut, that I might be getting whatever the kids have, which begs the question of whether I should go to class on Wednesday and possibly vomit on some poor kid's backpack.

However, I am aware that, especially for this nascent blog, it's been too long. Some things I need to address are:

1)How was the ex-in-laws' visit to me?
2)How was the return of The Boyfriend?
3)Why did I buy approximately $150 worth of night cream for said return?
4)How was the experience of having the ex threaten legal action when I wouldn't change plans at last minute on Sunday and THEN decide to show up four hours late anyway?
5)Am I making my son gay by letting him have a maribou-trimmed Easter basket (a present from the neighbors)?
6)Am I kidding myself that Easter eggs and the like are not as Christian as Christmas trees and the like (I know, I know. But we're not Christian and check out the origins of the word "Easter." It's pretty explicitly secular and spring-focused, much more directly so that Baby Jesus day)?
7)What, in fact, did happen at the Harper Valley PTA meeting last Thursday?

All in good time, my friends. All in good time.
In the meanwhile, let me leave you with this tableau:

It's midnight on Saturday. The Boyfriend and I have been talking for three hours or so about some pretty heavy topics: his discomfort with my maintaining a friendship with L. of Like a Virgin fame, possible future plans, etc. My daughter V. has just thrown up twice, in her bed, and I have given her to The Boyfriend to hold, at her request, while I clean up. Then we've put her to bed and I've gone and dumped the dirty sheets in the wash. While down there, I've noticed that my shirt has barf on it, so I return to the kitchen in a bra and jeans.

The Boyfriend is doing my dishes. When I enter the room he tells me he's worried about V. Then, still scrubbing, he gets that slackjawed ogling look that tells me the Titty Center of his brain has just activated and proceeds to leer at me, charmingly, when he scrubs.

I was unfair in my previous rant, is what I'm saying. Because a dude who's doing your dishes, comforting your sick daughter, and glazed with lust all in the space of ten minutes is a dude worth knowing.

Also, he still has a magical penis. Just sayin'.

At Your Convenience

Here's a little window into the arrangement I have with my ex. He usually comes Wednesday afternoon for 3-4 hours and Sunday afternoon from 12-7 (though he has been an hour late the last two Sundays -- hard to get up in the morning). On Wednesday they stay here. On Sunday they used to stay here, but then his girlfriend told him that he need to take control and have the kids "experience his environment"* (never mind that the kids, or one of them, anyway, are asthmatic and allergic to her cats and that environment fucks them up for a minimum of 24 hours), so they wait here until the younger one is done with her nap, then go to his place.

As previously mentioned, my daughter V. is sick. She's her normal, charming, really, really good-looking two-year-old self most of the time, then she bursts into tears and projectile vomits. She's been doing so for five days, and I am really tired of watching her cry, tired of wiping her puke off the floor, tired of hopefully feeding her bland foods, tired of worried she'll go into a dehydration coma. So we spent two hours at the doctor's this morning (fortunately, I'm on spring break, or this Week on Vomit Comet would send my stress from Ernie to Elmo). As a courtesy, I emailed the ex about the events. Here's the reply I just got:

I am sorry to hear that V. is sick. Please tell her I hope she gets better really soon. Let's skip tomorrow in light of this. I can't risk getting sick and coming for less than three hours is silly anyway. I have something to do for most of the day anyway and was thinking of asking if it'd work to do Thursday instead. OK?

I wasn't fantastically impressed by this, but it also sounded like maybe he still wanted to come Thursday, so I replied:

Skipping tomorrow is fine, but you should keep in mind that she (or he, or both) will probably still be contagious Sunday.

I am planning to make dinner with/for your parents on Thursday. They are planning to be here at four. If you want to come and show up with them, you're welcome to stay for dinner. We'll be eating early, around 5:30. Let me know if you want to come. I need to buy some fish or something.

Backstory: the ex's parents are coming to town Thursday. They will be staying with me, in order to spend time with the children (they ostensibly also give two shits about me, but I'm not sure I believe them, nor do I really blame them for it; I find them excruciatingly irritating and have long been fed up with various aspects of their hypocrisy and disingenuousness, but I'm judgmental like that, plus they did raise the dude that I am now happy to be divorced from, for which I try and fail not to blame them). Yes, you read that right. My ex-laws will be staying with me. For two nights. Even though I never got along with them in the first place. BECAUSE I AM INSANE.

So here's the ex's reply:

I realize that. I am more concerned about making rent before I expose myself to the possibility of illness... Can't do dinner on Thursday, but I appreciate the invite.

You see what I mean when I say that I used to try to chase him down and I gave up on that.

And, in a larger sense, you may see why the last year has really made me question the role of a father in a kid's life. I'm not saying I don't think fathers are important -- a good father is great. But I didn't have a good father, and in fact most people I know didn't. Most people I know had abusive fathers or unavailable fathers or absent fathers. The two men least likely to treat women like shit I know (my boyfriend and my old friend W., whom I dated about a thousand years ago when I was still in my teens) both grew up without fathers, and neither one especially regrets it. So to chase around trying to facilitate my ex's being the man he's not seems...just a little bit silly. And it also seems like missing the point; after all, now that we're divorced, aren't I supposed to be free of the stress of being his personal assistant, motivational coach, and scold?




*This is not my imagination of how things went down. When I met with her -- at my request to 'establish cordiality' in light of her potential ongoing contact with my kids -- she told me so.

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