Out From Under My Rock

Oh my! Has it been that long? I have to admit, under a rock has not been one of my most favorite vacation locales. Someplace with bright sun and a cool breeze would have been preferable.

As of late, DH has been most agreeable to creating a long, dramatic, made-for-television type of divorce - he finds it soothing to his ego. I imagine he spends most of his evenings lounging on his sofa with a dainty handkerchief draped across his forehead, bemoaning his sad victimhood at the hands of a cruel and demented wife.

Meanwhile, his attorney has been most busy making a fool of his client in exchange for vast quantities of money. This has elevated our divorce to a place of great amusement to my attorney, despite his normally stoic demeanor. The quality of his correspondence with me has deteriorated from extreme professionalism to comedic sarcasm, intermittently besmudged by the occasional teardrop from hysterical laughter that spatters upon the page.

Let’s see if I can get this right…

Following my disastrous appearance in court, I received the formal recommendation of the mediator. While it was evident that the mediator hated me and was quite possibly in allegiance with DH, the recommendation was no different than that of the first mediator (three hours per week under my supervision).

As thrilling as this news was, it did not sit so well with DH, since his child support payment is based on the amount of time DC spends with me.

And so the wheels began to spin once more in his cleaver little brain.

If he could force me to stop breastfeeding, DC wouldn’t have a need to be with me so much. With his great plan in mind, he joyfully paid his attorney another large sum of money to draft a stipulation that would force me to wean her. To gather evidence, DH called my pediatrician…once…twice…thrice…how many phone calls does it take to annoy a doctor? Somewhere in between six and nine, I would say.

Fortunately for DC, her pediatrician did not take kindly to a previously uninvolved parent calling to request her medical files be sent to an attorney, along with a letter recommending she no longer be breastfed.

Way to charm the doc, DH.

At her 9 month appointment, I found the doctor to be as impressed with DH as I am.

Then, on DH’s birthday, which I TOTALLY forgot to acknowledge, I had to call the police on him. He thought it would be elevating to his spirit to refuse to hand DC over to me at the end of his visitation with her. His prideful smirk was priceless as he used my sweet baby as a pawn to try to control me.

Happy Birthday, DH. I hope you enjoyed your chat with the police.

In a final attempt to “win”, DH’s attorney has subpoenaed all records of my membership to country clubs and beach clubs. You know, because I frolic the day away sipping tea and playing croquet with other single moms who have loads of money and time to spare.

I am also required to produce evidence of any inheritance I have received in the past three years. When my cat died, she did leave me her dishes, collars, and toys.

And half a bag of catnip.

And a cat bed.

And some hair bunnies under the sofa. But I didn’t keep those.

But I do have one of her baby teeth that might be of some value. I’ll have to look into where I might get an appraisal.

Then the worst happened…

I got a letter from my attorney informing me that DH believes me to be a TYCOON.

Yes, an EBAY tycoon.

To prove it, his attorney subpoenaed my SISTER’S eBay records, because that makes sense, doesn’t it?

I am now faced with the sad task of informing my sister that she will have to pay alimony to my DH.

Then, to reward me for being the sole parenting influence in DC’s life, DH decided to report me to Child Protective Services. Yes, because I am a neglectful and abusive mom. I just didn’t know it until DH was gracious enough to bring it to my attention.
My sweet DC likes to think of DC's self as being quite skilled at walking gracefully across hard-tiled floor in slippery socks. I do believe I forgot to reminder her last week that she is not, in fact, skilled at walking in ANY circumstance, let alone one so perilous.
Thus, she fell and conked her poor baby head, leaving a bruise the size of a dime.
When DH came to visit three days later, he demanded to know what had happened to her, obviously suspecting that I had lost my temper and tried to discipline her with a frying pan to the forehead.
He started to take pictures of her head, then left rather abruptly well before his two hours were up.
Two days later, during his midweek hour visit, he got his panties all knotted up over a small bruise on her arm (pencil eraser sized). It’s from her TB test, I said.
Alarmed, he said to DC, “You have bruises all over your body. That doesn’t seem right. All over your body…”
I am a crazed maniac in need of restraint. It is a good thing DH is getting me the help I need. My attorney said I should probably expect the visit from CPS within a week or so.

As for the final custody arrangements, we still have to go to court on November 28th. My attorney is not worried in the least, and I do have a very good attorney, unlike DH. After that, our divorce should be final in January, unless DH gets wind of the billions of dollars of assets I am currently hiding in a sunken pirate ship off the coast of Antarctica. That could possibly cause some legal delays.

In the meantime, DH is beginning to busy himself with his new girlfriend, Beth. I can only imagine she is of exceptionally outstanding character. Especially since she started calling him “babe” and staying for the weekend after knowing him for seven or eight long days.