EX:  Dont remember-do i get them at all on my birthday?

ME: Lemme check.

ME: You have a copy of the decree, right?  It’s all in there.

EX: No.  i hit it from Bozo then ?

ME: Keep that in mind when I refer to things getting lost in your house.  That, more than anything, should never be lost.

EX:  Now that the lecture is over.,

ME:  What lecture?  Just pointing something out.  You keep getting mad at me when I say things get lost.  Now, you’ve lost one of the most important documents you have.

EX:  Caught Bozo reading some of our private divorce papers on day!  i was shocked.  anyway…

ME:  You still have that safe, right?  It works well.

EX:  Remember it wasnt working?  it still isnt

ME:  Hm.  Ok.  Forgot that.

<several hours later>

EX:  So whats the answer about my/your b-day?  thanks for checking

ME:  I’ll tell you because you’re pestering me.  No, you do not.  Please get a copy of the decree from your lawyer.

So, according to her, she LOST her copy of our Divorce Decree.  The single document that defines our entire divorce.  The single most important paper she has.  The one thing that can wring my neck.  The item that holds us to certain rules.

What an idiot.

Her question was “is there an editor for the school newspaper?”  Ugh.  Damn.  She’s always wanted to be an editor.  He said yes, but people were welcome to submit stories if they’d like.  Another ugh.  She does have a bachelor’s degree in English, but still.  She’s never used it.  The last time she wrote anything other than texts was several years ago (that’s enough to cover a complete post on its own).

Everyone departed and met up with the kids’ teachers.  I went with my beautiful wife to the Kinder room, and the Ex caught up a few minutes later.

I went to my son’s desk and noticed something great.  The teacher had prepared two folders.  One for me and one for the Ex.  She’s going to be great for my son.

I picked up my folder and went to the back of the room to fill out the forms.  The rest of the parents came in and did the same.  I was the only one who chose to stand.  Everyone else sat in those teeny little chairs.  I just can’t do that.  I’m 6’2″.  I might as well be sitting on the floor.

I was so pleased to see the information on the forms.  My home address was listed as my son’s address.  My wife was listed before the Ex.  My cell number was the primary contact.  It all pointed to me.  Lovely.

When the teacher was done going through her agenda, it was yet again time for some questions.  The only one who had anything to ask?  Yep, you guess it.  The Ex.

She had two questions.  Now, to interject here.  We’re talking to the teacher about how the classroom will operate.  She’s willing to give us insight into the style of handwriting she’ll be teaching.  How problems are handled in the room.  Topics of interest to the daily working of the school.  Important stuff.

What were her two questions?  I’m glad you asked.

1. Is there a water fountain in the room?

2. How often can the kids go to the bathroom?

It’s the kind of questions that make a guy wanna thwap someone.

As the gorgeous wife and I are leaving, we started flipping through a book that the kids had made (remember, this is only 5 days into the year – not bad progress already).  I find my son’s page and just laugh.

He drew a picture of my dog (black and brown stripes with a HUGE tongue), a tall person (which he tried to write my name on), a medium sized person (that had to be my wife), and himself.  He had a big blue splotch in the middle with lines going up the top.  My wife asked me what it was, and I said, “that’s our swimming pool.”  What was in his hand?  A monster cookie that my sister-in-law had made!

So, the wonderful child was asked to draw something, and he chose his family.  Me, my wife, and my dog.  He didn’t include anything about his mom.

(Hey, sis, we need more cookies!)

But if you took a step back and looked at the crowd, you’d notice something very interesting.

Have you ever dropped Palmolive into a layer of oil?  The oil separates from the Palmolive droplet immediately.  The same was happening with the other parents.  As the Ex slowly moved through the crowd, they instinctively parted, creating a void around her.  When she stopped, the void remained.  Anyone who entered the void was immediately consumed, never to be seen again.

Bizarre stuff…

The head of that organization is the kind of person who should be able to tolerate anyone.  In theory.  I present a story involving:  The Ex.

On Sunday, the school hosted a “blessing of the backpacks”.  The kids went to the in-house church, did their service, and were to have ice cream afterwards.

I spoke with the Ex the night before and asked her if she was going to take the kids to it (it was her weekend).  She said she might, and that she’d call me about an hour before to let me know if she would be there.  I made sure that she’d call me, because I was having some issues with my cell phone plan and I didn’t have any texting service.  Stupid problem to have this day and age.

Of course, she went to the service, and she hadn’t called me.  Yet again, my mole (hello again, sis!) was able to fill in what happened.

The kids were off doing their own child-friendly version of church when the Ex arrived.  The head of the PTO was giving a speech about something-or-other.  When she came to sit down, she was directly in front of – guess?  The Ex.

So, the Ex poked Ms. PTO and rudely asked some questions about when the kids would be going up to get their backpacks blessed.  A polite answer was given, and a huff was returned.  When it came time for the kids to go up front, Ms. PTO turned around and told the Ex that it was time for the kids to go.  The response from the Ex was akin to, “Yeah, I figured.”

After the service, at the ice cream part, my sister-in-law (no more hello’s for you) and Ms. PTO were talking.  The sis pointed out the Ex.  Ms. PTO said, “Oh, I met her.  I don’t like her!”

Great start to a new school…

(by the way, do you have any idea how hard it is to write something and keep it anonymous?)

My eldest son was in 5th grade at one of the worst elementary schools that I know of.  Public school.  Ew.

Yes, I’m a result of the public school system.  I turned out fine.  Just ignore the sporadic twitch I have.

My son’s whole school is geared to “teaching to the test”, as I call it.  Everything they do is done so they’re better prepared for the next state-imposed test.  If the students do well, then the school can continue to receive funding.  If they do poorly, then the school won’t get as much.  It’s a double-edged sword, really: dumb the students down so the school can survive more.

There is one major part of my divorce Decree that I cherish.  It directs myself and the Spawn of Satan (my ex) that my children must attend a specific private school.  Yes, I’m responsible for the tuition, but knowing the kind of education they’re going to get is worth it.  I had to fight to get that clause put in the Decree.  I’m so glad it’s there.

Last week, my lil’ boys started their new school.  They were both excited and anxious at the same time.  I would be, too.

The first three days went by with minimal trauma from their mother.  No homework was given, and everything went smoothly.

This week, it’s her time to have them (remember, I have a week-on, week-off custody).  So, she took them to school on Monday.

I’ve informed her that she should get them delivered to school by 7:50.  My older son’s class starts at 8:00 and the yungun’ starts at 8:10.  So, if she’s there at 7:50, there’s plenty of time to get everything done.

When did she drop them off on Monday?  7:30.  WAY too early.  When they’re that early, they get entered into a morning program to watch over the kiddos.  They also charge $3/kid/day.  It’s not much, but for a woman who griped that a $3.90 lunch is far too expensive, $6 is a ton.

She’s supposed to pick them up by 3:10 to go home.  According to the Student Handbook, she’s allowed 15 minutes to get both kids and get out.  That means by 3:25, she’s considered late.  Again, the school will take care of them.  They will put the kids in an after school care kinda program, but they’ll charge $8/kid/hour.  More fees.

When did she get them on Monday?  I don’t know exactly.  I have a very reliable mole in the school (hello, sister-in-law!) who said that, by the time she left at 3:30, the ex hadn’t been there yet.

I got a phone call at 3:40 that she would be coming by the house to get some stuff the kids forgot from the week before.  Whatever.  I wasn’t even home.

Only 5 days into the new school year, and she’s dropped the kids off super early 3 times and has been very late to get them twice.  Woot!  She’s off to a good start.

Then…  I got tired.  I got tired of rehashing all the bullshit I had lived through.  I got tired of seeing my horrible life brought in front of my eyes.

So I stopped.

I stopped posting, I stopped rehashing.  I stopped digging into my past.

But now…  Oh, what new material I have.  School’s starting, and there’s plenty of junk to go around.

As I’m making a turn out of my neighborhood to cross the highway, I get a call from The Ex.  She sounded groggy and apologized that she would be a little late.

See, her man-servant was “doing yard work” and he heard the alarm go off.  He did not know that alarm meant, “Wake the Spawn Of Satan.”  He ignored it.

The Ex then gets a call from a young voice.  It said, “Are you coming?”

She had taken a little snooze, possibly to catch up on many years of needed beauty sleep.  She had set the alarm to wake her.  She slept through it.  The phone call was from my eldest son.  She was already 15 minutes late for picking him up from school.

Yet again.  She screws up in the eyes of my son.

My ex, however, does not have a job.  She doesn’t “need” one – yet.  She really should be looking for something that would match her skill set.  You know, that dream job where you can arrive at 10am, watch TV for a while, have lunch, take a nap, then be home by the time the sun sets at 2pm.

Last week, my kids were out of school for Good Friday.  Ok, that alone needs some explaining.  My youngest son goes to a “school” where he doesn’t have a set arrival and departure.  They open at 6:30am and close at 6:30pm.  As long as he’s present by 9am, they’re happy.  Since my eldest son would be out of school, I had assumed he wanted to stay home.

It wasn’t up to me.  According to The Almighty Decree™, the ex was to get the kids at 8am and keep them since it was her time to ruin them.  My youngest son knew his “school” was going to have some Easter festivities, so he wanted to go.  Fine by me.

The ex arrived at 8am to get the minions then left.  I found out later what happened.

She took them to Chik Fil A for a “healthy” breakfast.  Someone in blog-land please look up the definitions of “healthy” and tell me what kind of breakfast items are served at Chik Fil A that match the definition.  I don’t think there are any.

While at breakfast, my son “was not making good choices” about his behavior.  What kind of person defines someone else’s actions as “good choices” or “bad choices”?  It seems very Sesame Street to me.

According to my phone, which had the ex on the other end, she took my youngest son to school for the day.  She then took my eldest son, who is ten years old, to a drop-in day care.

Yes.  That’s right.  He’s 10.  She does not work.  He went to a day care.  WTF??

It gets better (it always does).

After she dropped him off, now these are the words from my phone which were relayed from the ex, she “spent some time with her favorite guy friend.”

As I know, a “favorite guy friend” would normally be called a “boyfriend.”  I wonder if he knows he’s being referred to in such an idiotic manor.

My brother made a great point.  If she’s spending time with her “favorite” guy friend, how many “guy friends” does she have?

To finish the story, she then went to get my youngest son from school, then the older one from the Day Care Hell.  From my calculations, the eldest was forced to be there for at least 6 hours.

Six hours to a 10-year-old is an eternity.

Of course, it was probably preferable to spending time at the ex’s house.

Now, that statement alone is pretty amazing.  There are lots of times in my past where she’s said things to me that weren’t very nice about my family.  I’ll also admit that I’ve said things to her that were not nice about my family as well.  I am guilty of that, but I will counter that as I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.  I felt I had to say those things to fit in.

She claims that she “tried very hard” to get along with my sister in law.  She claims that she’s tried to invite them into our lives.  Oh, really.

We baby-sat my brother’s kids once (only once ever), very long ago.  It was a real pain in the ass.  She complained to me for years how much she didn’t like it.

She wanted to make my family a part of our lives?  Oh, how about the time we held Christmas at a restaurant because she didn’t want to invite any of my family into our house?

The list goes on.  It’s sad.

My wife says I need to call the ex out on her crap when she claims things like that.  I agree.  I wonder when I’ll get a chance to do so.  She keeps cutting me off when there’s a good time to say something.

I honestly cannot imagine dating again.  Way back in high school, Girlfriend_1.0 got an upgrade to Wife_1.0, but there were several errors I didn’t know about.  Call it faulty programming.

The uninstall process took something like 18 months, involved lots of lawyers, and was really expensive.  I’m still having to deal with glitches affecting my schedule, several ill-timed phone calls, and lots of face-to-face contact that should be avoided.

My Fiancée_2.0 is now Wife_2.0.  Honestly, I can’t be happier.  Well, I could if Wife_1.0 went completely away.  I’m working on that, though.

So, here I am, typing at my computer about Wife_2.0 as she pads around the house doing whatever.  I am content.  Happy.  Excited about the future.

=)