rides and doctors
The boys were here last night. They have boundless energy. They went on a bike ride with DF on the trailer bike and then we all rode/walked to the park and ran around some more. They eventually ran out of steam, and that’s when they just start falling down. They get up and try to keep going but their motor skills are giving out and there’s nothing they can do.
DF and I don’t interact at all when we’re with the boys. It’s purely and utterly about them. I brought it up after they left and he said What am I supposed to do? and It will be easier when they’re older.
I thought it would be fun to make fondue with cheddar cheese soup, so we prepared bread and rotini and meatballs and Cheezits and put them out with bowls of the soup. Gavin pretty much started crying and he agreed to try it but the meatball he tried wasn’t cooked through so he had to spit it out and we gave him SpaghettiOs instead. That’s when I reached my threshold. And I tried to get ice to mix a drink, but the freezer ice dispenser on the fridge sticks now, and spits water or ice until it’s ready to stop, so I got ice all over the floor. And G asked what I was doing and I said getting water and he said What water? and I went and sat on the couch with the newspaper. DF made me a drink and then we put on an I Love Trains video, and we had a nice time sitting together for the last 45 minutes of their visit.
Today we’re meeting with Dr. PC. We’re still prohibited from having overnights. We thought they were supposed to start last week when I got here—a one-night overnight that would transition to a full weekend. But it didn’t work out that way. We were waylaid, and the week of my move was full of faxes between the lawyers and, finally, a call from Dr. PC saying we would meet [this] week to begin overnights. I have no idea what we’re in for, but I’m prepared for the worst. XW has proven to be very persuasive. The abandoned mother is a powerful figure, and so is the wanton home wrecker. But I’m going to wear a light blue or a light pink shirt and I’ll probably even blow-dry my hair and I’m not going to yell at her unless she tells us that I shouldn’t be present during overnights.
I have it all worked out in my mind—With all due respect, Dr. PC, you’ve been lied to and duped—and I’ll explain to her how manipulative and desperate XW is. But I’m not successful even in my mind, and Dr. PC is either not persuaded or she’s too embarrassed to correct herself. So then I have to yell at her that she’s unprofessional and that it’s a critical time for the boys and she’s affecting how they will develop relationships with their father and with me and with women 20 years from now. It doesn’t go well. And then the boys can’t sleep over, or they do and I sleep in the living room, and DF and I face one more stress.
Mostly I wish I knew what XW was thinking. To me, she is half victim and half persecutor.
DF and I don’t interact at all when we’re with the boys. It’s purely and utterly about them. I brought it up after they left and he said What am I supposed to do? and It will be easier when they’re older.
I thought it would be fun to make fondue with cheddar cheese soup, so we prepared bread and rotini and meatballs and Cheezits and put them out with bowls of the soup. Gavin pretty much started crying and he agreed to try it but the meatball he tried wasn’t cooked through so he had to spit it out and we gave him SpaghettiOs instead. That’s when I reached my threshold. And I tried to get ice to mix a drink, but the freezer ice dispenser on the fridge sticks now, and spits water or ice until it’s ready to stop, so I got ice all over the floor. And G asked what I was doing and I said getting water and he said What water? and I went and sat on the couch with the newspaper. DF made me a drink and then we put on an I Love Trains video, and we had a nice time sitting together for the last 45 minutes of their visit.
Today we’re meeting with Dr. PC. We’re still prohibited from having overnights. We thought they were supposed to start last week when I got here—a one-night overnight that would transition to a full weekend. But it didn’t work out that way. We were waylaid, and the week of my move was full of faxes between the lawyers and, finally, a call from Dr. PC saying we would meet [this] week to begin overnights. I have no idea what we’re in for, but I’m prepared for the worst. XW has proven to be very persuasive. The abandoned mother is a powerful figure, and so is the wanton home wrecker. But I’m going to wear a light blue or a light pink shirt and I’ll probably even blow-dry my hair and I’m not going to yell at her unless she tells us that I shouldn’t be present during overnights.
I have it all worked out in my mind—With all due respect, Dr. PC, you’ve been lied to and duped—and I’ll explain to her how manipulative and desperate XW is. But I’m not successful even in my mind, and Dr. PC is either not persuaded or she’s too embarrassed to correct herself. So then I have to yell at her that she’s unprofessional and that it’s a critical time for the boys and she’s affecting how they will develop relationships with their father and with me and with women 20 years from now. It doesn’t go well. And then the boys can’t sleep over, or they do and I sleep in the living room, and DF and I face one more stress.
Mostly I wish I knew what XW was thinking. To me, she is half victim and half persecutor.
posted by antigone at 8:55 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home