Sunday, May 30, 2010

No slide

Well. I tried. I did. I was up at 5:00 am. I was excited. I was ready.

Unfortunately, A was not. I waited. I drank two cups of coffee. I raised A's blind and talked her through our morning. I decided to have a bath. Mistake. I heard grumbling, then calling, then yelling, "Mama, turn off the light!"

"The light's not on, pet. That's the sun."

"Turn it off!"

"Can't do that love, it's impossible. It's time to get up."

"Turn off the light, Mama. Turn it off!"

"No can do. Sorry. Come and have a bath."

Then there was more screaming and coughing and near-convulsions and finally, "I peed!!!"

So I had to get out of the bath and I found A standing in a puddle of pee in a rage that took a good 20 minutes to calm her out of, but by the time she had eaten and was ready to go, I was in a foul mood myself and it was 8:00 am, hours after I'd planned on leaving for the GGGS.

Harumph!

We drove down to the Glebe and circled, and circled, and circled, while I grumbled at my grumpy pre-schooler, who was trying to make up for her bad behaviour by saying nothing.
Finally, I headed into Centretown, where someone pulled out of a metered spot just in time for me to pull in.

"Okay," I said, "We're heading out and I want you to be good. No whining. No crying. No complaining. Undestood?"

"Okay."

We packed up a backpack and hitched a bag onto the umbrella stroller and off we went, into the crowds, seeking the slide. When we arrived at the bank, I realized it had been firebombed and I had no money. So we turned around and headed into Shopper's for some food item and cash back, but I could only get $40 for my juice purchase, but that was a budget and I tried to work with it.

"Do you want juice?"

"No!"

"Are you sure? I'm having juice."

"No!"

I took out my juice and started to drink.

"Juice, mama!"

And promptly handed it over to grumpy girl.

We walked into Starbucks just before 9:00 am and H wasn't there, so we went to the bathroom.

"Do you want to pee? This may be your only chance."

"NO!"

"Are you sure?"

"I don't have to pee."

"Okay."

So she didn't. I did. But by the time we exited, no H, so we headed off down 3rd. Twenty minutes later, we returned with our princess costume (white with sparkes and a cone hat with rosebuds) to find H with her aunt and two boys on the patio.

We circled around with them for awhile, but A was still whining, alternating with coyly twirling in her costume so that strangers would chuckle or coo. By 10:30 am I'd had enough. We'd lost H in the crowd, A was upset, and we were having a hard time getting through the crowds with the stroller. I realized I'd missed out of slidesville because of our delay and I gave up on the GGGS.
It was okay, though. The costume worked and I got several nice guazy dresses for A and I. I'd spent $28 total for 2 hotdogs, the costume, a silk dress, two cotton tops, and a dress for A. Not bad.

I returned home exhausted and headed back to bed. A insisted on watching Dora videos, so I let her do that quietly in her room. She'd come in and check on me every few minutes bringing a new toy to keep me company. Eventually she climbed on top of me for a 5 minute nap.

All in all, it was fine. I brought the car, I met the friend, I got some stuff. But no slided. Alas.

There's one on sale at Toy's R Us today though. I might have to give in and buy it. Thankfully, A's with her dad and I can get in and out of the store peacefully alone and without whining.

Friday, May 28, 2010

GGGSale!!

Tomorrow is a big day. The Great Glebe Garage Sale!! Hooray!! I have read and understood all of David Scrimshaw's advice, but will heed only some of it. You see, I must get there early. I will try to meet a friend, because I haven't seen her in months, and A is with me so I need the car to carry her and her desired item of interest (a backyard slide) back from the sale. This may not work, but I will try. E is staying home. He wished me well. He has no interest in garage sales.

Meanwhile, I did something I will never do again. I went through a car wash. I thought it would be fun . . . and ended up with multiple small scratches in my lovely Bluebell (she's our car). I was so outraged I filled them in with the car pen immediately . . . and then realized that the car wash also exposed a number of other filled in scracthes all around the car!!! How had this happened? Why didn't I notice this before? Oh . . . dear.

Soon, a little girl from up the street will be dropping by to play with A. She's the little girl who told me about the mean boys at the school A was scheduled to attend. (Meanwhile, I think I'll switch her to the alternative program - I really, really liked it.) So, I'll hang with A and T and will sip at a cool drink while they play (hopefully, in the back yard).

I'll miss E tonight, but we'll try to join him for a post GGGSale swim. He assures me there are plenty of garage sales all summer long in his neighbourhood and I'm welcome to take his daughter and mine and go . . . so I will, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll attend the premiere garage sale event of the region and . . . I'll return home with a prized child's slide in tow!

Tennis

Well, I think I'll enjoy tennis, once I get the hang of it. I may need a few private lessons. My wrist was so sore after 30 minutes that we called it quits and walked home. Learning to serve will be the focus of my next lesson.

E has been playing tennis for aobut 4 years. He took 10 private lessons to start and has been doing that ever since. Whenever he travels (and he travels a lot) he takes tennis lessons at the hotels he stays at. I'm hoping I can learn enough to join his tennis club and have a new activity to get me through the adjustment of having less time with A.

I will also try to get her a kid-sized raquet so that she can play. We tried getting her to hit a few balls this morning and she didn't get many, but had fun trying. It would be fun to get her involved in a sport; I was never given that opportunity, so I don't think much about it. Maybe I should.

I gave E the book Open for Christmas and I read it once in a while at his place. I mostly flipped through it to read about Agassi's relationship with Brooke Shields, but I got some sense of what it is like to live the game and know that would never suit me. I'm not an athlete, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to play.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

No air

Well, I should have suspected there'd be a problem with the air conditioner when the furnace didn't work. There is air blowing around, but it isn't cold. It's still about 80 degrees in here. . .

Oh, the joys of owning an old house.

I'm working from home with all the shades drawn and this air blowing feebly from my vents. I have a huge glass of ice water beside me and I'm trying to keep my focus. I just heard that the case conference has been delayed until the end of July, but there's no word on a counter-proposal. I find it ridiculous to go forward to that stage when no attempt has been made to negotiate.

Meanwhile, E is going to teach me how to play tennis tonight. That'll be fun. He'll also attempt to stay over and work here after we've gone to bed. My house is about one-sixth the size of his house, so it is weird for him to try to adapt to it and our routines. I just appreciate that he's trying.

Hopefully, we'll all be able to breathe now that the heat has abated somewhat.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Dear Leo

I often wish I could ask the man who used to live here some questions. His name was Leo. Sometimes I imagine him looking down on A and I and I wonder if he'd be happy we're here enjoying his little house, his yard, and what remains of his garden. Still, I'm puzzled about a lot of things. If I could I'd ask him . . .

Why didn't you plant more perennials in your garden? and I'd add, The tulips barely made it this year. . . I'll have to plant more this fall.

How did you cook when there's no hood fan? Did you eat out all the time?

Who did your bathroom renovations and why? Couldn't they have shifted the toilet so that you could sit on it without bumping into the sink?

Did you do all that wiring yourself? Did you think it was safe?

I'd also thank him for all the useful things left behind . . . the gardening tools, the ladder and stools, the hoses and shelves.

I think of all the things I'd leave if I were to expire . . . it would be hard for anyone to organize or understand. I hope I'll have time to deal with all my baggage before I leave it all behind.


Monday, May 24, 2010

Kingston

There was a Kingston post this morning that disappeared. I'm not sure why. It was a fabulous getaway. We returned yesterday and recovered enough to spend today with our kids in the pool, which was a perfect way to spend a hot, muggy Victoria Day, which I didn't realize wasn't the holiday in Quebec. It was Jour des Patriots, or something. I didn't pay much attention when E explained it. I was happy enough to slip away from the fray at 4 pm to watch Oprah's special on Eat, Pray, Love. Elizabeth Gilbert was far more interesting to me than Julia Roberts, though I get her mommy kick. I'm somewhere between the two right now, as I have great couple experiences with E and equally wonderful family experiences with him, his kids, and A when we all come together for days like today. In many ways, I have the best of both worlds and I have to be grateful for that.

Still, I often feel I'm leading a kind of half-life. I am facing more of that with the prospect of A being away half-tme, but that also means I'll have more time to travel with E and enjoy the romantic things that we do together. Most mothers don't have time for that kind of indulgence.

I thought the most interesting thing that Gilbert said was that she realized upon seeing the movie that what she thought was an intensely personal story was actually a universal story of how people experience and recover from heartbreak. Certainly, that is the journey I relate to. I read the book a long time ago and thought it only scratched the service of the kind of pain you experience in divorce. Now that I have moved on in my life, I can appreciate the idea of how moving on happens.

This weekend was challenging on a number of levels in that regard. E's ex-wife remarried and he and I talked seriously about our future. In the courtyard of the B & B, after a run by the Kingston waterfront, we talked about plans and accidents and not really being in control. As much as I love planning, I always know that you can only do so much to ensure a particular outcome. At some level life works its own way with us. As much as I've felt worked over these past few years (and I broke a mirror this morning, so I hope I'm not in for more bad luck), I think I'm better off now than I would have been otherwise. Certainly, E's a better man than my ex was. Our life together is more interesting than my previous life. The future isn't clear, but I've resigned myself to the inevitability of that. Things happen. Posts disappear.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

May 2-4

I picked up a big bag of special soil and some plants from Loblaws yesterday and set to work planting soon after A and I settled back in at home. Feuled by Diet Coke, I planted 5 planters of flowers and herbs, spread the remaining soil on my now sandy and forlorn side garden, and proceeded to plant more herbs and vegetables along the driveway. I realize this probably isn't the ideal place for a vegetable garden, but I'm not going to sweat it this summer. It is an experiment more than anything. I have a pepper and tomato plant in planters at my makeshift wicker patio emsemble in the back yard (Did I mentione I am queen of salvaging - having found, yesterday, among the nursery detritus, a perfectly matching wicker plant stand that someone had thrown out? This matching my perfectly-matched, separately-found wicker chairs and pillows?), and I'll compare their growth to those planted by the driveway to see what a difference full-on versus partial sun makes to their growth. I'm so excited by all this, having had a disappointing apartment gardening season last year when my balcony was being redone and the patio doors were sealed shut (now I wonder, why on earth did I stay in that apartment for so long?).

Ooooh, summer and this weekend starts it all off. I'll have to get something bubbly to toast the event and E and I are planning a romantic dinner and night out. He bought me some lovely gold strappy sandals in NYC (very Sex and. . .) and I bought a swingy little strappy black dress to match, so it should be lots of fun to dress up and enjoy what I hope will be a balmy evening (although it isn't at all warm now).

This morning he'll help me weed my lawn and trim it. Monday we're set to get all the kids in his pool. It promises to be a lovely weekend.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Garden

I'm going to try to plant a garden today and tomorrow. I come from a long line of vegetable gardeners, so I think it will be okay. However, I've never done this. My apartment tomatoes didn't really work out last year, but I still have hope. I just want some fresh basil, a few things to eat, something to do that relaxes me, some way of maintaining Leo's legacy (he's the old guy who lived in this house for 30 years).

Last night A, E, and I went for a long, rambling walk along the river. It was warm and lovely and all the parks were deserted, so A thought it was really neat and she fell asleep in the stroller on the way home, which left us time for other things . . .

I do love this neighbourhood, and summer, and I'm looking forward to growing things.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Dads' Post-Partum Depression

There was an article in yesterday's Globe & Mail about dads' experience of post-partum depression. I would have linked it, but I can't find it. Anyway, it does say that post-partum is, in large part, caused by sleep deprivation and that this peaks three-months post-partum. It also states that men display aggression and volatility as symptoms.

Reading this, I remember that when A was 4 months old, my ex threatened to leave me if I couldn't get her to "sleep through the night." Ferberize is another term for this. Needless to say, my attachment parenting style was not in accord with his demands. This led to a lot of tension.

It strikes me now, looking back, that he was likely experiencing the post-partum that he attributed to me. I wasn't depressed, but he was, I think, and that led him to act out in all kinds of ways.

Now, a couple months after the birth of his baby boy, I wonder if he is coping any better.

Today, I got notice that he rejected my proposal and wants to go to a Case Conference in July. This is incredibly frustrating. It will mean a huge expense of time and money and for no real gain. We could negotiate an agreement now, if he were willing, but he is invested in conflict and thinks, I suppose, that he'll get what he wants by bullying things to court. The problem is, I can't not go. I tried to offer a reasonable solution, but if he won't negotiate, I'm forced to go through this legal process that I have no faith in.

His antagonism hasn't waned since he left. I'm still the scapegoat for his hostility three years later. Having a second child has had no ameliorative effect, obviously, he's just as volatile as ever, maybe even more so because he is mired in a second round of post-partum depression/aggression.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Schools

I'm torn. I signed A up for a local school, but recently met a little girl on the street who goes there and she talked about how the boys teased her and when I asked her what they said, she replied, "Fuck you." I was shocked because she's only six and feebly replied, "Well, let's not use those words here."

That incident gave me pause. Meanwhile, at the barbeque last Saturday, I heard about another school in the area that is a public version of a private school pedagogy. I'm much more interested in this school now and have arranged to take A there on Tuesday. It seems this system may require quite a lengthy commitment though, and I'm not sure how long we'll stay here. I'm not sure of anything right now. I'm still waiting.

Will A and I stay here? How will E and I manage that? I already hate the commuter aspect of our relationship. I know he doesn't mind and could deal with this indefinitely, but I'm not so sure how I feel about that. Still, I never want to be in the precarious position of dependence I was in during my 5-minute marriage. I guess all I can do is see what evolves, but that just involves more waiting . . .

I'm off to a yoga class shortly. I'm looking forward to some focused body time. I haven't felt grounded in my breath for so long I can barely remember what it feels like. Which brings me round again to this alternative school option, which incorporates spirituality and the body, which can only be good. I just hope whatever I see Tuesday will make things clearer. I want so badly for her to be comfortable and well. The only problem with this neighbourhood is the schools. I've heard that from more than one person. If this alternative program is a good fit, then I'll feel less guilty about this move being good for everything but A's education.

Monday, May 17, 2010

A Walking Pace

I used to walk everywhere, to daycare, to school, to the grocery store, to see friends, to movies. It was my primary mode of transportation and I bought a big jogging stroller so that I could cart A along with me all winter long. We walked snow, sleet, rain, or shine.

Since buying a car last August, all that's changed. My whole life has shifted to adjust to car culture. Granted, I bought the car after last summer's rain, when I was constantly drenched. I was cycling to work then, 40 minutes each way, then to daycare, then home, and wherever else I needed to go. I was exhausted. The car was a welcome relief and I was really excited about using it (and couldn't have had my current relationship without it) until I was in a bit of a crash (a bit more than a fender bender) last October. After that, I was cowed. I lost confidence in the car and I still don't drive it with a firm sense of security. So, I drive, yes, everyday, but I don't really enjoy it. I hate traffic and commuting, even though everything in Ottawa is about 10 minutes away.

My drive out to E's place takes longer, as I've mentioned, and it is particularly awful on Friday afternoons. Last week, we left Ottawa at 2:45 pm and we didn't get there until about 3:15 pm. That felt like too long and it was too stressful, because everyone on the road was in a bad mood and a hurry and I was flipped off and cut off a couple of times, once for not advancing on a blocked intersection, and the other time just because someone wanted to blow off some steam.

I wish I could still walk everywhere. On weekends, I try to. Sometimes, A and I cycle to a nice neighbourhood nearby and the closest Bridgehead in the area. I'm about to return to yoga soon and it is in that area too. I'll try to avoid driving there, but it is so much quicker sometimes, that it is tempting to forgo the exercise for the convenience, especially when pressed for time.

I always seemed pressed for time now, too. This also seems connected to my new life. There hasn't been time for much but A and E and work. There's little time for me, but I'm going to start addressing that this week. I plan on doing at least one, maybe two yoga classes. I'll also try to write more, eat better, read.

I spent most of yesterday reading on my wicker chair in the backyard, with snacks and drinks, The Brambles, wearing a big floppy hat and sunscreen. It was perfect. Having a yard is divine, really. When I looked at my mortgage payment on my bank statement today . . . it was about $200 cheaper than my previous rent, needless to say that doesn't cover hydro, gas, water, taxes, etc., but it still made this choice seem like the right one, even is life has shifted from slow gear into fast, from urban crawl into near-suburban sprawl.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Brambles

The Brambles (2006), published by Knopf is a beautiful rendered novel of family life that I picked up for a dollar at the university bookstore last week. It is written by Eliza Minot, who I have not read before, but I will try to read her other novel The Tiny One next. I can relate to and laugh out loud with each of the three siblings in this book and I'll pull out some especially lovely passages here:

Margaret, mother of three, thinks, "Much of raising chidlren, Magaret realized long ago, is providing a blow-by-blow account of what, exactly, is occuring and how. And why" (125).

Her little sister, Edie, has her own issues: "It all seems so silly: her going to the hosptial when here is her father, terminally ill; her puking into the toilet bowls dotted across the country; her longing for something, for someone, for what exactly she has no idea. She is alive and doesn't know what to look for. She leans on the counter. She laughs harder and harder, her nose starting to run, her eyes watering, the muscles of her stomach beginning to burn. To be a grown adult and to feel so lonely . . . . It was just ridiculous" (100).

Their brother Max can't seem to communicate how he feels to his wife: "Chloe's pretty body, her pretty hair and face, the pony prettiness of the whole package, the fresh sight of the stroller with Rex in it, and now the motion of them moving away, the two of them one unit, mother and child, his wife, his son, his own family - the sight of all this makes him feel so claustrophobic, so unworthy. Not claustrophobic in the low-down dog sense of wanting other women or wanting to break free - he loves his wife, he knows that, and he loves little Rexie. But the effor ot it. The burden. the fact that it is a burden, that somewhere in the marriage arangment he feels that: the burden of it. This is his pbrolem. the tiny apartment that they're in. This job situation. How he's letting them down" (109).

Needless to say, all these words resonate with me on all kinds of levels now. My own life, so complicated now by multiple arrangements, is hard to track. I'm back home on a sunny Sunday morning, E having driven me back across the river after we drove back to his place following the barbeque at one of my school friend's places last night, his two kids in tow, mine passed off to her father for the night. He knows I hate the drive, the 20 minute + (more in traffic) trek across to his small town in another province, where I often spend some part of my weekends and another weeknight, cozying up in the queen-sized bed he bought with his former wife, who is getting married next weekend to the man she left him for. It makes my head hurt sometimes to think of all this . . . it keeps me up at night worrying about the implications for us all of trying to come together at all, trailing our children with us back and forth. Oh well.

Oh well. It will be okay, I think, most of the time. Our kids are loved, are healthy, are happy. We love each other, too, even though, I know, we aren't able to give each other the original and intact image of family we both started out with, with other people who let us down. How these other people (our exes) have managed to go on so swiftly and effortlessly always amazes me. They needed to, I guess, to prove something to themselves. Or to us? I'm not sure which.

Life is full of brambles and . . . it is unavoidable that we'll get scratched or torn a bit . . . and you do just have to live with it and seek the sweetness nonetheless. I guess that's what we all do.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Spring again?

I'm not sure what to make of this season, the actual one, and this one in my life, they are equally unsettled times. The only way I get through my life these days is by distracting myself with thoughts of happier, simpler, consistently warmer times ahead. Thankfully, I also have blissful moments with A and with E that carry me through and make me connect to my immediate experience, whether we are all out walking in the sun, or at St. Hubert for chicken, or just hangin' on the couch. There is an attention to each day and it is its own small celebation, in a way, even as I spend a lot of my energy racing ahead in time in mind to relieve the anxiety of waiting. I could be waiting forever . . . so I have to stop and just let things evolve. There are always shifts and changes and things turn out to be either more important or less than I thought and it is always a relief to know that.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Morning Frost

It was a shock to see my frosted lawn this morning, particularly because we'd have a warm and cozy night, thanks to the furnace tech who showed up at 7 pm and confirmed that the furnace was indeed off. The fairly new, high efficiency furnace is a little too efficient for this small house and warm air is condensing and turning into water and flooding the unit and the floor, but the cause of the breakdown was a dirty sensor. He fixed that, turned the heat up and the fan down, and I'll hope for the best. At one point he suggested the water might be coming from the foundation and I just about fell over, but is seems to be the furnace and at least there seems to be something I can do about that . . . what's been done, buying better filters, insulating the chimney, whatever else it takes.

What I don't have to get through this early morning, however, due to my indulgences of yesterday, is coffee. I look so forward to my quiet morning coffee while A sleeps, the sound of her breathing and the quiet I have always yearned for a still, rich comfort in my life. I need these moments of calm to get through these days that are still fraught with unresolved tension and worry. I'm not sure how long it will take to hear from my ex's lawyer. I sent my ex a direct email yesterday about summer vacation, but received no reply. I will have to get used to this and plan around him, as though he wasn't there, although he claims he wants to be.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Freezing

I've been trying to work from home today, but my hands are wrinkled and white with cold and I'm shivering. I turned up the heat earlier to 24, but when I told E that he said, "What are you doing? That's going to cost you a fortune!" so I turned it down again and now I'm freezing. My last gas bill was a fortune, too, so there is obviously something wrong with my expectations, or with the furnace. I'll have to call. It is supposed to be new, but how could a new furnace not heat a little house like this? Frustrating! What am I going to do in the winter?

Meanwhile, my nice next door neighbour is moving my front lawn.

"It's practically part of my lawn, anyway," he offered. "I'm not touching the back part."

"That's okay," I said. The back lawn looks a mess currently, with half of it cut too short, half grown in too long and piles of dried out cut grass strewn throughout. I'll have to deal with it when it warms up.

Hopefully, it will warm up. Cold makes me crave sugar and fall asleep. This is not the best way to work from home. I've already consumed a package of caramel cinnamon popcorn and several coffees. Maybe I should turn up the heat in order to save myself from crashing further.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day

The reference for that last quotation and any that may follow in this post is:

Duncan, Sara Jeannette. The Pool in the Desert. Ed. Gillian Siddall. Peterborough: Broadview,
2001.


Since it is Mother's Day, I will reflect on how this story portrays the transition to motherhood and then I'll talk about my own.

We never do get the first name of the narrator in the story. She's known only as Mrs. Farnham, but that name is not used in relation to her in the text. She uses it to describe her husband's mother, who she describes, along with her daughters, as "subdued, smiling, unimaginatively dressed women on a small definite income that you meet at every rectory garden-party in the country, a little snobbish, a little priggish, wholly conventional, but apart from these weaknesses, sound and simple and dignified, manager witheir two small servants with a disply of the most exact traditions, and keeping a somewhat vauge and belated but constant eye upon the doings of their country as chronicled in a biweekly paper" (57).

The narrator's transition to motherhood is understated: "When the expectation of Cecily came to us we made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole station pitied us, and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst of expense, we kept up the pretense splendidly" (55).

When asked about her sense of sympathy for her daughter by a friend, Dacres, later in the story, she says, "My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, I've alway stuck to John" (66). Later, she adds, "Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all" (66).

What I find interesting and to my mind, monstrous, is the idea that a mother can be so emotionally disconnected from her child and so wholly devoted to her husband (and his sword). I remember before my daughter was even conceived, talking about love with her father. I opined that the greatest, most enduring love was that between a mother and child, because it could not be severed the way that romantic love can be. "You can't divorce your mother," I may have said.
Or your child. But the point is, I suppose, that people can, in one way or another. I find this a most ironic memory now, of course, because A's father seems to have made it his life's goal to sever that bond between me and my beloved daughter.

The maternal bond isn't inherent though, I'd argue. My relationship to my own mother is evidence of that. I always attributed her emotional distance towards me to her own devotion to my father. I still think that women who put their partner's interests over those of their children are somewhat daft. I remember talking to a mother in the park about my own situation, which I'm sure broke down because my ex-husband couldn't tolerate being displaced by his infant daughter, and this woman leaned into me and whispered, "We all know we love our children more than our husbands." I think it comes down to a choice of allegiances.

When I met E, one of the things he told me is that he had everything he wanted in his life, but he didn't have a partner. He realized that loving his children and his work and his home and his friends wasn't enough. He wanted to love and be loved by a woman. Recently, he said, "I don't even think about that any more. I have it."

I don't think I'm nearly as easily satisfied. I find love and loving far more complicated. Becoming a mother meant that I experienced a far more profound love than ever before. Having my motherhood challenged, now, is almost disabling. My love for any partner I've ever known has never been as potent. While sexual/romantic love is still important to me, I think it may always be simply an echo of the more essential primary connection of mother and child.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

A Mother in India

"There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John's uniform bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball to save getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if I had been allowed; I adored his sword" (Duncan 55).

So beings one of my favourite stories by Sara Jeannette Duncan and one I've been up reading since the early morning. This story of a mother's strangled anguish in relation to the child she gave up at 5-weeks and betrayed at 21 haunts me. I can't help feel that it reflects my own situation and my own immediate grief in relation to the proposal that my lawyer forwarded to my daughter's father yesterday.

What have I done? Will I live with the kind of regrets that make Mrs. Farnham bridle with resentment and hide her mortification with pretty phrases? Will the distance she feels from her pretty and conventional daughter, who she suggests is purblind, be one that I've inadvertently introduced by allowing my spirited girl to be partially raised by a woman too cowed by my ex to resist his narcissism? Have I been negligent in allowing my (relative) poverty to prevent me from a whole-hearted fight on my daughter's behalf?

I know my good friend HD in Vancouver will disapprove of my actions.

"You have to be a pioneer and fight this," she said on the phone. But I haven't much fight left in me.

. . . my daughter calls . . . more later.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Daffy Dame

I could hear my ex's lawyer chortling on the other end of the line as my previous and now present lawyer said we were forwarding a proposal.

How did I get here again?

I am so tired, so very, very tired, I just want to curl up and nap for eternity.

That this is a game, and I'm the Daffy Dame in the game, is heartbreaking, really.

Then I read about Charlie Sheen signing over custody to Denise Richards and how friendly they now are after all that previous rage and I feel the hope flicker in my heart.

Anyway, all this to say, I'm giving this guy one more chance, and I sincerely hope my daughter isn't going to be the worse for it. I know I am, I feel like I'm 10,000 years old.

How to talk to a lawyer . . .

1. keep your eye on the clock
2. use point form
3. avoid challenges
4. stick to script
5. don't flinch

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The Ontario Family Law Racket

After my lawyer dumped me last Thursday, I saw a female lawyer who I liked much better. The problem seemed to be that we didn't know when the Case Conference (the first stage in the court process) was scheduled. What she did was call my ex's lawyer and mention her availability. My ex's lawyer didn't get back to her, but he seems to called my previous lawyer.

I know all these people know each other, and I think what happens is they strategize to get the most money out of their clients as possible by encouraging conflict and extending negotiations. Who knows what was said? Whatever it was, it seems it somehow changed my lawyer's stand on me, because when my father called to talk to him about refunding me money (yes, I asked my father to do this because I was too frustrated to do it myself), my lawyer told my father that he was still willing to work for me and he made himself available for a meeting. Now I'm left wondering whose interests this person is serving - my ex's or mine? My ex's lawyer's or mine? How can I possibly trust him after his little tirade?

Meanwhile, I met with another lawyer today known for his hard-line litigation. I thought it would be a quick meeting and I could get out of there without spending too much more than $200. WRONG. When you consult a lawyer, dig your own grave. $500 dollars later, I'm perhaps slightly more informed, a lot less hopeful, and definitely poorer. Racket. It's a bloody racket. It doesn't serve the interests of families. This family law business just makes lawyers rich. It's offensive.

The problem with it is this . . . no one I've spoken to credits my daughter's experience of distress as being significant enough to justify restricting my ex's access. Where are children in this process? They are entirely left out whereas they should be at the centre. Who is protecting our children?

All I know is that I'm trying my best to protect my daughter and deal with a hostile ex husband and nothing seems to be working. The forensic psychologist I spoke to said, "Justice serves the person with the deepest pockets." If that's true, if that is what our system supports, then we can all be ashamed, especially those profiting from it.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Oh and . . .

. . . the talking to E business. Yes, I was correct, he spoke to E instead of me, but also said odd and inappropriate things to m. For example, with a dead-eye stare, remarked, "The relationship between us is not strong." Relationship? Relationship? Was this supposed to be a relationship? E objected saying that whether or not he liked me shouldn't matter to a professional. At another point the ex-lawyer said, regarding the assessor, "He obviously didn't like you." I replied, "You are just saying that to be unkind." Whatever I did to the ex-lawyer, I don't know, but he obviously didn't like me. So, the assessor didn't like me either?

I asked E, "Why do you think these men don't like me? What have I ever done to them?" except be demanding and insistent and slightly anxious about their integrity.

"I don't know, Sweetie," he replied, "I know you didn't do anything."

I suppose I know myself and I'm direct and determined and unwilling to accept anything less than what I feel is right, so maybe that's enough to upset people who don't care quite so much and don't want to be called on it.

The "good" lawyer said, "Maybe its because you are more attentive to the situation because you are so close to it." Again, a good enough answer. I just hope she can do this.

All Lawyers are . . .

Insert an unnamed expletive in the above title. When I was first separated there was a MacLean's Magazine article with a similar title on the newstands. The author, I forget who, a lawyer himself, admitted that lawyers intentionally overbill and manipulate their clients.

I have seen this firsthand. Most recently, with my ex-lawyer, M.S., who came highly recommended to me by a friend of 20+ years and a psychologist I consulted about how to handles the custody battle. This so-called professional was exceptionally negligent. When I asked him why he hadn't forwarded my proposal, he pointed to an email I wrote to him asking to speak to him before anything was sent. "Yes," I said, "I needed to speak to you, but you didn't get back to me."

"I was in court," he replied.

As if that means he couldn' t at least spare me a 5-minute call, particularly in light of the fact that he told E and I that he had spoken to my ex's lawyer twice that week. He neglected to tell me what was said. Another error. He also, apparently, was served with a motion for a Case Conference, but on Thursday when we met with him, he didn't give me a copy of that motion or tell me when the date was scheduled. How can anyone deal with someone like that?

E thought he was ridiculous. I was furious and shouldn't have been soothed out of the office by E, because I left with absolutely no information and after spending $5000 on this incompetent oaf, I should have something to show for it.

Now, I'm looking for another lawyer, but the problem is, in a place this small, they are all part of the same club. When I called around on Friday looking for someone and mentioned M.S., one of the lawyers I was speaking to said, "Oh, he's a good friend of mine." Well, that took him out of the running for me. The problem I have now, as I've had previously, is that now I feel desperate. When you are desperate, you don't tend to make good choices. Can anyone out there recommend a good family law lawyer? I can certainly provide a list of terrible ones . . .

The most interesting conversation I had on Friday was with a Forensic Psychologist who would be able to critique the recent reassessment report for any actual court appearance. He knows Dr. W. and says his work is amateurish and often criticized. He also said my ex's lawyer is known as a "dirty lawyer." Unfortunately, I have to deal with all of this.

As E points out, the report was not all bad, so do I try to have it thrown out because of its ultimate recommendation for shared time? That's my dilemma. The Forensic Psychologist speculated that my ex-husband is not likely to stop with his demands, even if he gets his 50%. My friend in Vancouver who has been through something similar concurs. But my concern is always that sharing 50% time with a hostile person will be a nightmare. If my ex truly cared about his daughter and could set aside his ego and work in her best interests (which is my hope) then it could work, but I just don't think he is capable of that.

As one of the lawyers I consulted said, "Resolution really depends on a person's willingness to settle. Often personal issues interfere with a logical solution."

She's the lawyer I want, if I can get her, but finding a good lawyer is a huge challenge in itself.