Summary of Events-Saturday
I know, I'm an awful blogger, one who doesn't sacrifice self for her blog. In my defense, I've had a rough couple of days dealing with what's going on in my life. Not that the last few days have been exceedingly eventful, just kind of a culmination of everything seems to have built up and hit me in the forehead. And I've been trying to deal with it all internally, but I don't think that's benefiting me at all, so hopefully by getting it off my chest I'll be able to sleep with out the help of mass doses of muscle relaxers and wine. We'll see. I'm kind of enjoying the wine.
I can't write about my Saturday without giving a quick history on it so that it makes a little more sense. So, without further ado, the back story:
Met a man we'll call L.B. in October of 2001. Married L.B. in February of 2006. Had L.B.'s baby in November 2006. L.B. pointed a gun at me and left for good on Christmas Day of 2006. Divorce filed (by me) January 2007, divorce finalized in October 2007. Now this is where it gets important. Part of my divorce decree granted me a sum of money to be paid out of a period of 6 months. Part of my divorce decree also had my daughter on L.B.'s health insurance THROUGH HIS JOB. November 2007, L.B. cancels my daughter's insurance policy and puts her on one that gives her unlimited mammograms but only covers one doctor's appointment a year. My one year old daughter. Also, at this point, he has failed to make any of his settlement payments. Oh, and did I mention that he was screwing around on me while I was pregnant and is now caring for the home-wrecker and her two kids from another marriage? Yeah. It's not that important to this part of the story other than I can never miss an opportunity to make sure everyone realizes how big of a son of a bitch he is. Anyway. So I file a motion for enforcement with the court addressing both of his violations. I also asked to be named sole managing conservator, as well that my residency restriction be lifted. Oh I didn't mention that? Yeah, my divorce decree prohibits me from leaving the county where that son of a bitch resides or any county touching. My ENTIRE family lives about 800 miles away. Awesome, huh? How can you sign up, I'm sure you're thinking. Anyway, back to court, the judge decides that since I am representing myself and L.B. has an attorney, there should be a parenting coordinator that decides whether or not I should receive the rest of the settlement (his attorney claims I destroyed a bunch of stuff. Believe me honey, if I was gonna destroy stuff, all that would be left is a smoldering pile) and what a good solution to the insurance stuff would be. Fast forward to when the parenting coordinator had her first visit with me. She was friendly, she was full of helpful suggestions as far as my side go, she was upset that L.B. wasn't paying more for this and that, and blah blah blah. I actually was stupid enough to think that it went fairly well. I don't know why, but every time I feel like the court system may not be as screwed up as I thought, just when I start to have even a little bit of faith in the family law courts, I get dropped like I've been pushed out of an airplane. Which brings us to this past Saturday.
We had our final meeting with this stellar parenting coordinator, and right away I can tell that her attitude towards me has changed. She is cordial to me, but very friendly with L.B. Great. That's never a good sign. And I'm not sure why it surprises me. I used to be proud that my former best friend could charm the birds out of the trees. Now it makes me want to hold him down until those same birds crap up his nostrils. How's that for a visual? Anyway, we sit down and start talking, and I realize, wait a damn minute. Why are we talking about visitation? I have a piece of paper here, you know, one of those unimportant, annoying ones signed by a judge that says we're here to talk about settlement and health insurance. You can't even mix those letters around to spell visitation. WTF? But I roll with it, listening to what she has to say, and am appalled at her so-called expert recommendation. Right now, my daughter is exchanged between her father and I at a police station nearest my residence. He has no overnights with her, and he gets her on all of his days off except for weekends, in which he only gets the first weekend of the month with her. Considering he has four days off in a row every five days, he spends quite a bit of time with her, when he shows. But that's another topic for another rant. Ms. Professional Family Fucker-Upper proposes that he immediately get over nights. Exchanges should no longer be done at police station, instead be done at a place called Teen Connection which is basically where TEENS who are BAD are sentenced to live. I've spent some time there. You know what valuable life lesson I was taught? How to huff. And I'll tell ya, in the real world, that's come in REAL handy. And that's where she wants me to be able to LEAVE my daughter. She continues on in this ridiculous matter, and I'm seriously having to hold my right hand down with my left to keep from punching her in the forehead. Once she finishes explaining her oh so brilliant plan to ensure my daughter will have every possible reason to commit a felony when she gets older, I asked her one simple question. What about the life insurance? Her response? I'll have to look into that. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EVER LOVING MIND? That is what your entire purpose in life is! The reason why I have paid you to pass your stupid judgements and opinions! That piece of paper with the judges signature on it says LIFE INSURANCE and SETTLEMENT. SERIOUSLY. (and that is said with a great deal of exasperation).
I can't decide if I want to write her a letter or call her and ask her how I get into a program where I smoke crack all day and have judges make people pay me for my opinion.
So that was my Saturday.
I can't write about my Saturday without giving a quick history on it so that it makes a little more sense. So, without further ado, the back story:
Met a man we'll call L.B. in October of 2001. Married L.B. in February of 2006. Had L.B.'s baby in November 2006. L.B. pointed a gun at me and left for good on Christmas Day of 2006. Divorce filed (by me) January 2007, divorce finalized in October 2007. Now this is where it gets important. Part of my divorce decree granted me a sum of money to be paid out of a period of 6 months. Part of my divorce decree also had my daughter on L.B.'s health insurance THROUGH HIS JOB. November 2007, L.B. cancels my daughter's insurance policy and puts her on one that gives her unlimited mammograms but only covers one doctor's appointment a year. My one year old daughter. Also, at this point, he has failed to make any of his settlement payments. Oh, and did I mention that he was screwing around on me while I was pregnant and is now caring for the home-wrecker and her two kids from another marriage? Yeah. It's not that important to this part of the story other than I can never miss an opportunity to make sure everyone realizes how big of a son of a bitch he is. Anyway. So I file a motion for enforcement with the court addressing both of his violations. I also asked to be named sole managing conservator, as well that my residency restriction be lifted. Oh I didn't mention that? Yeah, my divorce decree prohibits me from leaving the county where that son of a bitch resides or any county touching. My ENTIRE family lives about 800 miles away. Awesome, huh? How can you sign up, I'm sure you're thinking. Anyway, back to court, the judge decides that since I am representing myself and L.B. has an attorney, there should be a parenting coordinator that decides whether or not I should receive the rest of the settlement (his attorney claims I destroyed a bunch of stuff. Believe me honey, if I was gonna destroy stuff, all that would be left is a smoldering pile) and what a good solution to the insurance stuff would be. Fast forward to when the parenting coordinator had her first visit with me. She was friendly, she was full of helpful suggestions as far as my side go, she was upset that L.B. wasn't paying more for this and that, and blah blah blah. I actually was stupid enough to think that it went fairly well. I don't know why, but every time I feel like the court system may not be as screwed up as I thought, just when I start to have even a little bit of faith in the family law courts, I get dropped like I've been pushed out of an airplane. Which brings us to this past Saturday.
We had our final meeting with this stellar parenting coordinator, and right away I can tell that her attitude towards me has changed. She is cordial to me, but very friendly with L.B. Great. That's never a good sign. And I'm not sure why it surprises me. I used to be proud that my former best friend could charm the birds out of the trees. Now it makes me want to hold him down until those same birds crap up his nostrils. How's that for a visual? Anyway, we sit down and start talking, and I realize, wait a damn minute. Why are we talking about visitation? I have a piece of paper here, you know, one of those unimportant, annoying ones signed by a judge that says we're here to talk about settlement and health insurance. You can't even mix those letters around to spell visitation. WTF? But I roll with it, listening to what she has to say, and am appalled at her so-called expert recommendation. Right now, my daughter is exchanged between her father and I at a police station nearest my residence. He has no overnights with her, and he gets her on all of his days off except for weekends, in which he only gets the first weekend of the month with her. Considering he has four days off in a row every five days, he spends quite a bit of time with her, when he shows. But that's another topic for another rant. Ms. Professional Family Fucker-Upper proposes that he immediately get over nights. Exchanges should no longer be done at police station, instead be done at a place called Teen Connection which is basically where TEENS who are BAD are sentenced to live. I've spent some time there. You know what valuable life lesson I was taught? How to huff. And I'll tell ya, in the real world, that's come in REAL handy. And that's where she wants me to be able to LEAVE my daughter. She continues on in this ridiculous matter, and I'm seriously having to hold my right hand down with my left to keep from punching her in the forehead. Once she finishes explaining her oh so brilliant plan to ensure my daughter will have every possible reason to commit a felony when she gets older, I asked her one simple question. What about the life insurance? Her response? I'll have to look into that. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EVER LOVING MIND? That is what your entire purpose in life is! The reason why I have paid you to pass your stupid judgements and opinions! That piece of paper with the judges signature on it says LIFE INSURANCE and SETTLEMENT. SERIOUSLY. (and that is said with a great deal of exasperation).
I can't decide if I want to write her a letter or call her and ask her how I get into a program where I smoke crack all day and have judges make people pay me for my opinion.
So that was my Saturday.
Comments
I'm blog-commentless.