Tales from the Ex Files

I really should just write the blog that I created for this specific bitching. But for now, I'll share with y'all, get you hooked, and THEN switch to my third blog! But for now, I'll fill you in on the latest round with "My Favorite Ex"...and yes, that is extreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemely sarcastic.

Ex and I have been going around in circles on whether or not we should pull SmallBoy from the school he is in and enroll him in the public schools for the next couple of years in order to afford him the help that he needs, all the while, having the school district pay for it. He was all over it, simply because it would cause him one less tuition, and he'd get off cheap on the 50% he needs to fork over for his half of anything for the children not covered by insurance. After conversations with the principal and assistant principal at SmallBoy's school, we came to the decision that SmallBoy would be best staying at his present school. As it turns out, the district will only pay for Occupational Therapy and/or Behavior Therapy if his academic skills are at risk(SmallBoy needs to learn coping mechanisms for his frustrations and to avoid meltdowns). Part of the Asperger's syndrome is an above average to high intelligence. SmallBoy is doing extremely well in school at the moment. He may need help later in his academic career for application and comprehension, but not right now, so the district won't cover it. However, insurance should. Ex's insurance is known to be a reputable insurance company that covers quite a bit....even though they only covered 1/9th of his dx evaluation.

In the middle of explaining all of this to Ex, he decided that it was time to rip me a new one. Married and with a new "fresh-out", he's still disgusted with the fact that I divorced him and am now terribly head over heels in love with my wonderful new husband...even though Ex has made it a point to leave me broker than a G-string on a guitar (yes, on a guitar). He went off on this tangent about when the kids came to visit last weekend, SmallBoy showed up in disgusting clothes, filthy, and covered in boogies, and all of the clothes in his bag were dirty. Now I help SmallBoy pack, because he usually needs some guidance. This time, something else was going on and it just didn't happen. I asked him what he packed, and he told me, "two unners, two shorts, two shirts, two pairs of socks, sleepshorts, and swim trunks." I didn't double check. FOOOOOOLISH ME! As it turns out, he grabbed what he could find from his bedroom floor and the top of the hamper. As for the shirt covered in boogies, well, Ex makes it a point to pick the kids up on his weekends well before I get home from work, so that I can't say bye. Since I'm at work all day trying to make ends meet, I didn't really have a chance to come home and tell him to change his clothes before he left. OOOPS! Bad Mama Sin #1.

Girl and Girl's stepsister went to a movie and took SmallBoy with. SmallBoy, looking for mooches of candy and popcorn, like any typical 8 1/2 yr old, complained that he hadn't eaten anything all day. Of COURSE, this got back to Ex, who promptly screamed at me for not feeding my children. Well, hmmm, let's see...SmallBoy woke up between 9 & 9:30 that day and had eggs for breakfast. The Asperger's has SmallBoy VERY schedule bound...he will NOT eat any meal before its designated time frame. They left for the movie at 12:05, leaving not enough time for SmallBoy to eat lunch at the "proper" lunch time.

Having fun yet? Oh, there's more. I was told that Large Boy (almost 15) and Girl (almost 13) are not allowed to babysit anymore because it's too much of a sacrifice for them. I told him that they have a system down when they have plans and that it works out just fine and, that 3/4 of the time, PC is here anyway. I work 7 minutes away, so, God forbid something hould happen, I can get home in the blink of an eye. This went on and on...if you're not bored yet, you should be.

Lastly, though, he made it a point to tell me, using the actual words this time instead of indirect reference, that I am, for real, a bad mom.

OOOOOOOOOOOOH he's SUCH a bastard! Come SmallBoy's 18th birthday, I know a bunch of people who will be showing up on Ex's doorstep with middle fingers extended (on both hands)...or perhaps a lawn decoration saying, "Happy 18th Birthday SmallBoy. Ex --- F- OFF!" Only I won't censor. 9 more years. I can do this, right?