Oh, Happy Day!

Satan
Many of you know that my ex is well beyond abnormally cranky and into full-blown Stupotic (or, if you like "duh-raazy").

The latest episode revolves around the document the court gave us a while back and UB's birthday. See, this year his birthday falls on a weekend, and it's her weekend... but it's supposed to be MY turn to have him on his birthday.

I have been warned not to fight her on this, because this state favors the mother regardless of mental acuity/state, fitness, or any other quality. Bonus points for crying on the stand. Because men are all evil.

That's equal rights for you.

So, she calls me up. "There's a conflict," she says. I hadn't noticed one, so I pull out ye olde parchment of legal wisdom... no. Seems pretty plain to me. Your weekend except where it infringes on his birthday (defined as being from 6 the previous day to 6 the day of... go figure). Those hours I get visitation.

"But it's my weekend! Why are you trying to steal from me? I'm his mother!" Yes, she tries to pull that crap on me. I tell you that if hitmen weren't so darned expensive, I'd be sorely tempted.

"But," I respond, "I'm not stealing time from you. It's not your time in the first place. It's a bit like my owning a bunch of bananas that I bought at the store two weeks ago and having you claim that I deprived you of them."

"Well, you did."

I cannot roll my eyes far enough to get them away from the affliction she has. I only hope it's not catching.

"Look, I'll give you two options... you can split the weekend with me, or you can take an extra day sometime that doesn't interfere with school."

"Fine. I'll pick him up Friday and take a day during Christmas vacation."

Admittedly, I'm feeling ruffled at this point, so I might've said something about her inability to decipher the word "options" which suggests a menu of multiple choices, of which she will have to decide not to have at least one of these. Since I presented a list of two, that pert near narrows down the choices. Pick one, damn you.

"Fine. I'll pick him up on Friday."

This was the last email I got from her, and I responded simply that, should we not agree on anything, I'll have to assume that she means to abide by the letter of the document. That being the case, I'll pick him up from her house around 6 p.m., Friday.

As a footnote, I'd like to add that I have inquired as to UB's opinion on this. He likes the idea of sharing that day with both parents, and urges that we not fight over the time. Sadly, it looks as though she will not relent until she gets what she feels is hers, even by stealing time from me. I've told her of his opinion, but she doesn't seem to care. If he can see what she is, and has figured out that she only sees him as a pawn in some sort of "game" between the "adults", I hope that she has trouble living with the result, becomes an alcoholic bingo-addict wannabe porn-star and ends up in a dark alley trying to peddle anything she can get her hands on in exchange for Elmer's Glue. If it happens I'll post pictures here.

I'll feel sad for him, because it's never good to watch anyone slide that far, but I'll laugh heartily at night and sleep pretty well.

But she's a peach of a lady... woman... thing, my ex.

They sell peaches by the roadside in Georgia. I'm just saying...