What it's like to split custody

I am missing out on half of Lila's life.  Yup.  Exactly half.  All because her father and I split up. 

For half of every week she is with me.  On those days we talk about her day, eat some dinner, cuddle and watch TV.  And on my Saturdays we try to get out to do something fun. 

But the other half of the week, she is with him. And there is no bedtime, no cuddle time, no bath to be given. 

On those days I miss out.

I missed her losing 2 of the 3 teeth that she has lost.  The Tooth Fairy going to another house, not mine.

I missed her learning to ride her bike.  She did it while playing outside on another street, not mine.

I miss out on a lot of little jokes and funny stories and small victories.

I miss her so much when she isn't here.

Every night when she is with him she calls me to say goodnight.  And on my nights she calls him.  The days of crying because she misses one or the other of us is over, thank God, but I know that she always has that emptiness.  She would rather have us both there in the middle of the night when she is scared or sick or just can't sleep. 

I do not regret the splitting anymore.  Although for a while I didn't know if I would survive it.  When she would cry for him or when she would call me crying I would want to fix it all.  To glue our broken family back together, to make her heart stop hurting.

And although I miss her like crazy when she isn't there, part of me is starting to adjust.  I mean, it's only been 2 years. 

I am a single parent when she is with me.  I am a bachelorette the rest of the week.  I still have a hard time with this transformation. I am starting to adjust and am finally beginning to find something to do during all this extra "me time" that I have.  But I don't feel lucky to have it.  Not yet.  Not when there is a hole in my heart during that time.

Being without her so much makes the time that I do have with her more valuable.  I try not to yell as much.  I try to do fun things when I can.  We go out to eat  a lot.  We have had to put quality over quantity.  This is something I think a lot of full time moms take for granted.

And even though I am only with her part of the time, she is still on my mind all of the time.  I still put her needs first.  I am still the one who makes the doctors appointments and signs all the school paperwork.  I am still always mom.

Sick Kid, Broken Mirrors and Sparkles

Lila is sick again.  Last night we ended up taking her to Urgent Care because she had a fever of 103.5 that wouldn't go down with Tylenol.  Turns out she has Strep Throat.  And because I love my kid (don't tell anyone) and wanted to make sure she got her Motrin and antibiotics every 6 hours, I brought her to bed with me. 

There is a very simple reason why I NEVER let Lila sleep in bed with me.  Because although I LOVE the idea of her cuddled up next to me with her little head nestled in the crook of my arm, in reality she wakes me up every time she moves, talks in her sleep and physically assaults me throughout the night.  She literally slapped me in the face THREE TIMES.  IN THE FACE! 

So I am waiting for her to wake up and get the hell out of bed so that her father can watch her all day and I can go BACK to bed and get some sleep.  Which is a shame because it's damn near 70 degrees outside already and it's only 10 am. 

So to amuse you this morning, here is the Sunday Stealing you have all been waiting for.


Sunday Stealing: The Her Head Is Part Missing Meme

1. What is your most annoying habit?

Going online to check my bank balance (or some other really quick little thing) and coming away 4 hours later not knowing what the hell happened.

2. What habit would you change of your partner's?

(I added the apostrophe and it made MUCH more sense...)  All of them?

3. Horrors or Chick Flicks?

Porn?

4. What is the most outrageous thing you have done in the back row of the movies?

Fell asleep.  I saved all my outrageousness for basements and back seats.

5. When have you lied to get a job?

Never.  The Jedi mind trick has never failed me.

 

As you can imagine, that line works like a charm.

6. What one thing is on your list to do before you hit 30, 40, 50 or whatever significant birthday is next?

Convince everyone that I am their savior.  Then sit back and laugh as they formulate a world-dominating religion around me.

7. Classic or modern films and why?

Both because I am not a pretentious "film" asshole. 

8. If you were a vampire who would be the first person you would bite?

Myself if I sparkled. And I would spend the rest of eternity apologizing for being one of the douchy Twilight vampires.

 

 

I couldn't pick which one I liked better.

9. If you had the power to make one thing better, what would it be?

My poor sick kid.

10. What makes a great blog?

Honesty.  And pictures stolen from the Internet with witty captions.  Especially if someone is offended.

(This is what REALLY makes a great blog)

11. What was the inspiration that brought your blog to the blogosphere?

All you need to know is the name of my blog.  No one wanted to admit it and I was like "yeah, well it fucking sucks.  So there."

12. What easily ticks you off (puts you in a bad mood quickly)?

Stupidity, people who can't spit out what they're trying to say, people who ask me what the hell I'm talking about.

13. How many children do you have?

One.  And seriously.  That's more than enough.

 

It's only a matter of time...

 

14. Is there anything you have ever regretted writing on your blog?

No.  Except for some of these answers.

15. What’s your favorite blog post you have written this year so far?

It's been a pretty rough year for writer's block.  I haven't written much.  Maybe this one. Or this one about the non-genderized kid.  Notice they're both angry rants...

16. Do you ever enter other bloggers competitions, and have you ever been lucky?

I don't because I am literally the unluckiest person alive.  Want to hit the lottery?  Ask me to pick 45 numbers and play the ones I don't pick.  Seriously. 

This is how I start my day.

17. If you could be anyone else for the day, who would you choose and why?

Lila.  That kid lives in the lap of luxury.

18. If you could time travel to any period of history what era would you visit?

25 A.D.  I want to see what Jesus was really all about.     

19. If you had to be genetically modified, would you rather have a third arm, a third leg, a second head or some other modification???

I would want a third penis. 

20. Which Disney character can you most relate to?

Any of these guys:

Two parts Sunday Stealing, one part Other Shit.

First, let me say that I love my blog time.  For me it is unwind time, and when I have had a rough day, sometimes it's just what I need.

About 2 hours ago, I was upstairs putting away laundry and Ben was vacuuming.  Suddenly I hear this awful "frhhoooonnnnk" sound followed immediately by a crash and Ben yelling OH NO!  Lila starts screaming and I sprint downstairs to find Ben holding her and Lila holding her head.  It seems that Lila was looking for something under the couch AT THE SAME TIME that Ben was vacuuming under the couch (!!!!???!!!!).  Her hair got caught in the vacuum (as any sane and remotely sensible parent would assume would happen if a girls head gets close to the vacuum cleaner)and she was completely traumatized (as would be expected from a 4 year old that pretty much hates the vacuum because it attempted to eat her head).   Needless to say, I didn't have to demand that he apologize for that one.  Why is safety never a consideration for some fathers?

Ours is not nearly as friendly as the Noo Noo.

Aaaanywhooo....Everyone is alright but there was a HUGE chunk of hair pulled out and it was all tangled into her hair and she screamed while I tried to untangle it because she was afraid she was going to be bald. 

Subsequently, the meatloaf Ben was cooking spilled in the oven and the smoke detectors went off for like 15 minutes (because there's literally one in every single room of our small (small) house, they're all wired to go off at the same time, and they're electrical and you can't just pull a battery out of one and be done with it).  Lila screamed all through that as well.  And since it's like 4 degrees outside, we couldn't just step out on the porch to avoid it all. 

And before you all point out the obvious, yes, I realize that he vacuumed AND cooked on the same day.  But seriously?  You let your kid and the vacuum get that close?  Jesus.

FUN FUN!!

Moving on...I skipped last week's Sunday Stealing and since this was a two parter, you get double the fun.  Plus I know you just LOOOOVE hearing my stupid answers. 
Sunday Stealing: The Never Ending Meme, Part One

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. Song that always makes you sad?
Anything by Justin Bieber.  It isn't sadness, exactly...more of a murderous rage that makes me feel like I need to kill small animals...

2. Last thing you bought?
Prescription sedatives.  Ahhhh....sweet relief.

3. Last person you argued with?
There are only 2 possibilities.  Ben or Lila.  And Lila had a rough day.  So you do the math.

4. Do you put butter before putting the peanut butter on?
WHAT???  I am not into food mixing like that.  Everyone knows that there is only one thing you are allowed to spread on bread with peanut butter.  Chocolate sauce.

5. One of your stuffed animals’ names as a kid?
Like I remember that shit.  (actually I had a monkey that my mom tells me was called Mahnu, because I couldn't say monkey.  And that I used to refer to any older man with a beard as Mahnu too.) 

6. Did you ever at one time own a Barenaked Ladies CD?
Do I look like an asshole?  Actually they are from these parts and I think it's hilarious that they have a children's cd out. 

7. Favorite day of the week?
Tuesday.  I have the day off work, and Lila goes to the sitter.

8. Favorite sundae topping?
Peanut Butter and Hot Fudge.  Together. 

9. Did you take piano lessons?
I wanted to but since my mother was insane, that never happened.  Instead I learned to play terrible 80s ballads on my Casio keyboard.

Go on, act like you didn't have one...

10. Most frequent song played?
Since I am not going to go look at itunes to figure this out, I will take a wild guess and say "Rump Shaker" by Wrecks N Effect (ahhhhh Snap!)

11. T.V. show you secretly enjoy?
Secretly?  Dr Phil.  His guests make me feel well adjusted.

12. Would you rather play basketball or hockey?
I would rather slit my wrists.

13. Date someone older or younger?
At this point, if I could score a 24 year old, that would be awesome.

14. One place you could travel right now?
To the bathroom.

15. Do you use umbrellas?
Sure.  I also use toilet paper.  I am not sure get why this is a question.

16. Do you know all the words to the Canadian national anthem?
OH CANADA! OH CANADA!  Blah blah blah blah something or other....

17. Favorite cheese?
Any kind that won't make me feel like I have an alien growing in my bowels.

18. The Smith’s or The Cure?
Neither.  That was my generation's version of Emo.

19. Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?
I prefer well hung.

20. Best job you ever had?
Working at the used bookstore.  Until I realized that my boss was extremely unstable and weird.

Sunday Stealing: The Never Ending Meme, Part Two

Cheers to all of us thieves!

21. Did you go to your high school prom?
No.  I barely showed up at school.

22. Perfect time to wake up?
4pm.

23. Perfect time to go to bed?
4 pm.

24. Do you use your queen right away in chess?
I only use my queen to get into the gay bar.

25. Ever been in a car accident?
Yes.  Totally not my fault.  He should have seen that I wasn't paying the least bit of attention.

26. Closer to mom or dad…or neither?
Used to be my dad.  But then he turned into a miserable old man so now it's my mom.

27. What age is this exciting life over for you?
22 (I'm 34).

28. What decade during the 20th century would you have chosen to be a teenager?
1975-1985.  If I was of the age of sexual consent during the hair metal days, I would have been the trashiest, most aggressive groupie the world has ever seen.

I totally don't understand why the girly look was sexy back then
but for some reason, it totally was.

29. Favorite shoes you have EVER owned?
When I was a kid I had these awful white shoes that had a row of safety pins side by side.  My mother hated them which meant I thought they were fucking incredible.

30. Do you have an article of clothing you have had since you were in high school?
I burned pretty much any mementos from high school on purpose.

31. Were you in track and field?
Hahahahahahahahahaha!  I only run if I am being chased.  And that doesn't ever happen anymore.

32. Were you ever in a school talent show?
If being slutty was considered a talent, then yes.

33. Have you ever written in a library book?
BLASPHEMY!!!!

34. Allergic to?
Motherhood, manual labor, heartfelt sentimental-type conversation, emotional intimacy, and cockroaches (the last one is true.  I was actually allergy tested as a kid and that is the only one I really remember).

35. Favorite fruit?
Gay Shawn...Oh and this banana:

HOLY SHIT!!! I forgot to add the link to where I stole it from!  You totally cannot trust a thief!

Click here for SUNDAY STEALING.

They really do resemble the mentally ill.

I have heard it joked that having a small child in your house is like living with a crazy person.  And I am here to tell you that I can confirm that it's absolutely true, although to be more accurate, it is like living with a ward full of psychiatric patients.  I know because I just left there.

As many of you know, my depression has been excruciating lately and I was not finding a lot of help from the professionals that I contacted.  Last Saturday, I had finally had enough and I checked myself into the psych ward at the hospital (you were wondering where I was, weren't you?).

I waited until Lila was out and about with her dad for the day and then called my mother and begged her to take me to the hospital (actually, she was more than willing and thought it was the best idea).  I didn't think they were actually going to check me in because I was not threatening to kill myself or anyone else (for a change).  When the doctor told me she wanted me to check in voluntarily or else she was going to check me in involuntarily with a required 72 hour stay, I signed the papers all the while crying and trying to convince the doctor that my child would never survive without me. 

Even in a state that can best be described as desperately useless, I was more worried about my kid than I was about myself.  I felt guilty for leaving her - for NEEDING to leave her.  I felt like I had been so removed and uninvolved for weeks now, and I was finally doing the inevitable.  I was leaving her.  My mother convinced me that she was in very able hands (her Dad is a fantastic father) and that this would truly be better than letting her see me in such a state of utter breakdown.  I knew she was right-in my head.  But my heart told me that I was a deserter.

The ward was a hospital ward with a long hallway with patients' rooms on one side and offices and other useful rooms on the other.  In the middle of the hall was a large open room with a TV and several tables in it.  The TV was always at full volume and the fluorescent lights and linoleum floors make the room harsh and uncomfortable. 

But it isn't the decor that I think was the important part of this story.  It was the people.  They don't separate the truly insane or disruptive patients from those who are depressed or anxious and the crazies ran the place. 

The first person I saw was a guy with a thick black beard and shaved head who just stood in the hall smiling to himself.  He just stood there.  Didn't look up.  Then he tentatively took half a step before smiling to himself again.  I was instantly afraid.  He was totally in his own head and I realized then that I was here with truly ill people. 

There was also a guy who constantly paced the length of the hallway all day and half the night.  When he sat down, he would try to talk to you or concentrate on something to no avail.  He would get frustrated and jump up to walk again. 

There was a woman who barked.  She mostly barked but also liked to repeat everything that people said when she was in the mood.  The first night I was there, they were watching some show on Telemundo that was like America's Got Talent but only showcased children.  At one point, a dance team came out enthusiastically gyrating to annoying techno music.  She heard the music, jumped up and started imitating the dance moves.  Here was a 50+ woman who barked doing some really athletic dance moves.  I was pretty sure she was going to hurt herself. 

There was a guy who was essentially catatonic in a wheelchair who would piss himself and then come to life fighting the nurses who tried to change his pants.

There was a girl who confined herself to her room most of the time except that several times a day (and often in the middle of the night) would come out into the hall screeching, howling and hooting as if she were at some fantastic dance party that only she could see. 

But my favorite memory will always be of The Yeller.  The Yeller was a 70 year old man who came in complaining and bitching but in completely nonsensical sentences.  He literally yelled utter nonsense for 4 entire days, quieting down for 3 hours here and there but mostly going on non-stop.  He just could not shut the fuck up.  He yelled all kinds of interesting gems and I was convinced that if I could just transcribe it, there would be some sense to be made of it.  But I doubt it.  He would walk up to you for no reason looking like you somehow offended him and he'd point at you and say something like (and I quote) "You can tell me abracadabra and put it in the dryer.  But you have to get the user's manual that's in the refrigerator because the sponges need a bath."  After 4 days of him yelling day and night, I decided that ready or not, I needed to go home.

Coming home was really strange for me.  My house looked weird.  Lila looked like she had grown up, and I just felt completely out of sorts.  I knew that the relief I felt from the excessive sadness and anxiety was mostly due to being away from my real life and I knew that it was going to be hard to disappoint Lila, who thought that since I was coming back from the hospital that I was going to be all better.  I am not. 



But all that being said, I found out that I have an incredibly well-behaved and well-adjusted child.  Lila missed me and asked about me often but only cried about it once, at bedtime on the second night I was gone.  In fact, I would often call her at my mother's house during the day and on more than one occasion when my mother asked if she wanted to talk to me she shrugged and said, "not right now, I'm playing."  When I told my doctor about this, she asked if that hurt my feelings and I had to be honest:  I was completely relieved that she was secure in the idea that I was coming back soon.  She wasn't traumatized by my absence and that freed me up to do some of the work I needed to do to get myself in good enough shape to get out of there. 

Like any stay in the hospital, coming home did not mean I was "cured".  It only meant that the crisis had been averted and that the hard work of really getting better was beginning.  Before I left, they made me a prompt appointment with a therapist and a psychiatrist, which boggled my mind since every shrink I had called in the last month told me they were either not taking new patients or wouldn't be able to see me until October.  I have new meds (which I already think need adjusting) and I am still having a ton of anxiety and sadness. 

But now I know that there is help out there.  And I have something that I didn't have when I went in there.  Hope.

Day 7 and also a little rant

When I was growing up I had a friend (who we’ll call Britney to protect her identity and in case she is reading my blog) who refused to eat anything that wasn’t name brand. I would pull out the grocery store brand “W” cola and she would turn her nose up and tell me she’d just have water. She told me over and over how much better REAL Pop Tarts were compared to the generic ones that my mother bought and faked illness when my mother dared to offer her GENERIC PEANUT BUTTER sandwiches for lunch. But I liked Britney and we were friends even though I never owned name-brand sneakers or drank REAL Minute Maid orange juice. Somehow though, this ALWAYS made me feel inferior.

An artist's rendition of
my friend "Britney" as I
remember her.

Perhaps this is why I have refused to jump on the “organic foods” bandwagon. As far as I can tell, there is no point is serving Lila organic breakfast cereal, organic frozen dinners, organic cookies, organic yogurt, organic popcorn or pretty much any snack junk food that is labeled as organic.

First off, let me say that for this kind of stuff, the fact that it’s processed is far worse for her than the fact that it’s not organic. Processed foods have all the good stuff taken out and a bunch of other stuff put back in. These are not actually FOOD as people a hundred years ago would understand it, but more like “foodstuffs”, which is like food but with less actual nutrition involved. If Lila wants this stuff, (and because I want to choose my battles because she is a total fucking warrior who will win) she eats the generic stuff. And usually there is no generic organic stuff.

The second thing though, is more rooted in the mentality that I experienced as a kid. I don’t know if I believe that “organic” is necessarily any better quality than “name brand” is. I know there are a bunch of you out there who want to explain to me about chemicals and pesticides and nitrates and all kinds of other things, but truly, that was the same kind of argument the name brand girl gave me, telling me that the factories that make name-brand foods are cleaner and pass a higher standard than their generic counterparts.

Here’s the thing. I am worried that this is going to be a problem when Lila gets older and has her little friends over, just like it was to me. There are so many parents out there who would never let a “regular” apple touch their children’s lips and I worry that someday Lila will feel the same kind of inferiority that I did at the fact that her mom doesn’t buy into the bullshit marketing campaigns and that honestly, generic regular popcorn slathered in butter and salt is just as bad for you as name-brand organic popcorn slathered in hormone free butter and sea salt.

For the big stuff, I am on board. I like grass-fed meat better, I am all for not giving my kid hormone-filled milk and I truly think organic produce tastes better. But if it comes from a package and has a shelf-life of more than a couple of months, I just don’t buy it. And I just won’t BUY it.

.........................
30 Days of Books Day 7
A book that is hard to read

This could be taken two ways.  But my selection for this one made me have to stop because it was seriously disgusting me, which I am sure is NOT the intention of the author:

First off, I want to let you know that I watched the movie.  As bizarre and disturbing as the movie was, it was NO WHERE NEAR as fucked up as the book. It is NOT easy to upset my sensibilities but Bret Easton Ellis managed to completely destroy them.  I squirmed and gagged and finally gave up because it was so graphic and twisted that I wanted to slit my own throat. 

The writing is beautiful though and in some parts I was actually touched.  Like this passage:

"My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it. I have no surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed"

But Ellis's ability to capture this character's total depersonalization was too much for me. 

Just like her mom!

All mothers love it when their little girls put on their shoes, jewelry, perfume, etc., and turn to us and say "I'm just like you Mommy!"  But I am finding that I am passing on other things.  Not just my shitty attitude, mood swings, and perpensity to swear like a trucker either.

Lila had her first "treatment" today.  For any of you who are fans of the sci-fi show "Dollhouse," you know why that makes me snicker. 

That's (not) me in the suit.

But all kidding aside, last night Lila tossed and turned all night waking up crying and frustrated because she simply could not breathe.

Lila has finally developed Mommy's asthma.

My poor kid.  Last night was awful.  It's seriously the worst feeling in the world when you can hear your kid wheezing and struggling for air but she doesn't complain enough for you to think its an emergency.  I wanted to take her to the hospital but knew it would just scare her and so I had to let her just suffer through it until morning. Until we could get her into her doctor.  Until they could give her the "treatment" and send us home with a nebulizer contraption.

It's kind of like this.  (But not really)

She did a fantastic job.  She was completely terrified by the thing.  She was scared about "breathing the stinky smoke".  But the doc and I assured her it would make her feel better so that she could play with her little cousins later on today.  So she sat there all pissed off at me for making her do this and when it was done cheerfully picked out as many stickers as she wanted because the doc was so impressed that she was so scared but never cried once.  My kid is a bad ass like that.

And so for a week, every four to six hours, I have to strap the thing onto her head and force her to breathe in the vapors and pray that she lets me.  Because with all the other fun battles (eating, sleeping, what to wear, not being an asshole) I truly don't want to have to fight another one.

And because the doc said that it is likely just a side effect of the extremely high pollen count and the moisture that is causing an outbreak of mold, she is optimistic that she will not need the treatments every day of her life. 

Which I hope is true.  Because being the sickly kid with asthma would be terrible for my kid's reputation as a trouble maker.