They Can't All Be Good Ones

Last night I was watching an episode of "House" with the kids on the DVR. It was the episode where House gets dragged to dinner with Cuddy's mother and drugs her (and Wilson) to avoid having to deal with her bullshit. They also saved Shaggy from a bad case of chickenpox.

I love "House". The prick doctor reminds me of Best Friend Brian.  Complete jackass with a god complex, but you still love him cause he's so damn cute.

In a non-gay way.

Except he's actually gay.

Maybe I should just drop it?

At the end of the episode, Taub says to his wife, "I think we should get divorced." Taub's the one who cheats on his wife with anyone who holds still, but then gets upset when she develops feelings for some guy she met on the internet.

Yeah. That one hit a little too close to home. Awkward!

The internet part - not the cheating.

Asshole.

His wife replies that she loves him and comments that they've been together a very long time.

He responds, "But are you happy?"

The answer is clearly no and the scene concludes with Taub walking out the door.

My divorce went nothing like this. At no time did my ex-wife ever ask me for a divorce. Or even state that she wanted a divorce. Not once. When she left me, she packed the kids up in the middle of the night and ran to Mississippi for a month. When she decided to divorce me, she filed in secret. Then lied to me and the kids about her whereabouts and secretly flew back to Mississippi, all the while hoping that I would be served in her absence.

Sounds a little cowardly, doesn't it? Maybe that's just the way divorce works in the real world. Or maybe my ex is just a selfish, petulant child. I'll leave that to be answered by my future biographers.

People rarely have the courage to face their problems head on. If they did, disagreements would be resolved quickly and divorce would be rare (or at least less common). The Ex was famous for avoidance. It's her go-to move, right after scorched earth revenge.

Can you imagine how different this would have played out if my ex wasn't a coward? We'd have discussed our problems rationally. She could have made her case that she wasn't happy and felt that a divorce would be in her best interests. We'd have eventually agreed and could have seen a lawyer together. The lawyer would have explained that there was no way in hell any court in Macomb County would ever allow her to move the kids to Mississippi without my consent and we would have worked out a custody agreement that benefitted both of us and provided stability for the kids.

She'd probably be in Mississippi already and she'd be about $30K richer.

Instead, she's likely to lose custody, has pissed away a small fortune on legal bills and may end up in jail on Monday for being in contempt of court. The kids have been irreparably harmed by her selfish, thoughtless behavior. Oh, and we're still at least three months away from any resolution.

But I got a lot of great material for my blog. Whoop-de-doo!

And no, I do not want my Ex in jail. I just want to be left alone.

But I would feel a lot safer.

Why can't life be more like the movies (or TV)? Everything would be neatly wrapped up in 90 minutes and there'd be neat theme music.

I need my own theme music. If you have any suggestions, feel free to post below. I'm thinking about "Cheated" by Mike Posner. Check it out.

Enough about that. Three more sentences and I'll be accused of hosting a pity party.

When I would get a little too full of myself, my Dad would say "The world needs ditch diggers too." I think he meant several things by this. First, that I should never underestimate the importance of the garbage man. And second, I should never overestimate my own importance. The guy driving the garbage truck may not have an advanced degree (other than English), but if he stops picking up the trash for a couple weeks he becomes more important than your doctor or the mayor.

Ask the French or Italians - they have a garbage strike every summer.

Finally, I think he was telling me that the world won't run without all the various roles and positions being filled. It would be nice if we could all go to medical school, but we still need farmers and machinists and police men and teachers and ditch diggers. There was room for everyone in my Dad's world. He taught me to respect everyone who did the best they could to fill their respective role. I think I've fallen far short of his expectation, but I do understand his point.

I think the same holds true for most other aspects of life. Not all days can be good days. Not all years can be good years. If every day was a 'good' day, eventually we'd stop appreciating them until the word 'good' had no meaning. Perhaps rain makes us appreciate the sunshine.

And maybe I should just move to a flipping commune and develop a taste for granola...

2010 was a bad year for me - no argument there. I wasn't exactly sad to see the calendar page turn last month. I'm hoping that 2011 will be a building year for me. I'd like to establish a new foundation and get a little stability back in my life and the kid's lives. I think when all is said and done, the kids and I will come out of 2011 with a full head of steam and a lot of momentum for 2012.

At BobKrausCo, 2010 was our painful restructuring, 2011 is our building year and in 2012 we will be back on top. Wait and see.

Speaking of the kids, I'm running out of things to do with them this winter. We've done the sledding thing, the tobogganing thing and the skating thing. What else is there to do with a nine and six year old? I'm sick and tired of winter sports. I want to get back to baseball, long walks in the park, camping and fishing.

I think I've got spring fever and it's still January. This does not bode well for the next eight weeks.

I can't wait for reports from Spring Training. You can mark it down - the Cleveland Indians will be competitive in 2011. I'm predicting two games over 500. That pitching staff is poised to take a big step up, and the hitters are a lot better than people give them credit for. The Yankees are already drooling thinking about Shin Soo Choo in 2014.

No, I'm not crazy. Clevelanders have no imagination. And yeah, I think the Browns will win 9 or more games next season too.

No John, the Cavs will still suck.

Speaking of baseball, one unexpected fallout from this damn divorce is that it's going to totally screw up my son's spring and summer baseball leagues. I'd like to sign him up, but I'm afraid he won't be able to participate. Since we have no agreement on custody and no resolution in sight, I don't even know for sure where the kids will be this summer. And even if they are still in Michigan, I'm pretty sure the Ex won't let him play. She wouldn't take the kids to their weekly swimming lessons that I signed them up for, and I'm pretty sure she won't be making an exception for baseball.

It's tough enough being a single parent, but it really sucks when your Ex is more interested in trying to hurt you than she is in doing what's right by your kids. I read a Facebook post that said something to the effect that "you need to love your kids more than you hate your ex". Wise words. I'm trying very, very hard to live my life with those words in mind. It's difficult, but the kids are worth it.

So no, they can't all be good days. But maybe getting through this shitstorm of a divorce will make me appreciate the good times and good people even more.

And there will be a lot of good times to appreciate in the coming years.

Peace.

Clunky Transition Days

This has been a good week (for bad writing).

In "man points" I'm up like 50-2. Man points are like "bravery points". One gets "man points" for doing "manly" things. In my case I've successfully fixed a broken trash compactor AND washing machine in the same week. That's a big deal in "man world". Fixing one major appliance is a coup. Fixing two? Unheard of. I need to invent a new adjective to describe it.

I fixed the washing machine using a bobby pin. For real. I'm f'n MacGyver bitches!

I'm definitely basking in the afterglow of successful appliance repair. In the words of the bard, "It's Miller time baby!" Or Captain Morgan time at a minimum.

First clunky transition.

But I'm still a little blue. I suppose the sadness comes and goes. It generally hits me whenever I reflect on what I've lost due to the divorce. My friend Farone told me "getting divorced is like a death in the family". I didn't understand him at the time, but he is right. I'm definitely grieving.

I've said it a hundred times - on the whole I was very happy with my marriage. Now that it's over, all I have left are the memories. And other than the last year, almost every one of them is good. I still have a picture of the Ex and I from my college graduation on my desk at work. Every holiday I think of the good times we spent together. It's very much a grieving process. Its over, I've let go and I certainly don't want her back, but I still miss what I lost.

A lot.

Maybe the sadness will be attenuated by the passage of time. The anger certainly has been. Sure, when I have to live under the same roof as her, she still pushes all my buttons and pisses me off. But on the whole I've pretty much let go of my animosity. If it wasn't for her constantly antagonizing me, I pretty much wouldn't care anymore. Pretty much all I want is to be left alone.

Is the fact that I care less and less every day the reason she tries to push my buttons? Last week I absent-mindedly asked The Boy "Why does mommy leave all the lights on in the house?"

He matter of factly replied "To aggravate you." He even used the word 'aggravate'. I was flabbergasted. How petty is that? And who is the child? It turns out his mother actually instructed him NOT to turn off the lights.

Back to me my favorite topic. Me. And appliance repair.

Second clunky transition.

The trash compactor was easy. The door wouldn't stay closed. It turns out that there is a maximum density for trash compaction and after that, the excess garbage just blocks up the machine and knocks it out of level. Apparently teenagers will continue to force trash into the jaws of the machine at any cost to avoid emptying the container.

I seem to remember doing something similar as a child.

Third clunky transition.

Growing up, my parents had a trash incinerator in the basement. I've never known anyone else who had a personal incinerator. We had to separate our garbage into "rubbish" and "trash". We called the burnable stuff "trash", which would be fed into the incinerator and turned into heat and copious quantities of air pollution. I almost feel sorry for our neighbors who had to smell it. I don't remember clearly, but it can't have resembled a burning cinnamon yule log.

There is no way in hell that the EPA would ever allow one of those smog belching beasts to be installed in a residential basement now, would there? Not to mention the risk of fire.

As a kid, it was my job to take the trash downstairs to feed the beast. The incinerator was made of green steel. It was about the size of a tall end table and had a lid that was about 12 inches square on top and lifted up with a squeaky, groaning, moan. I thought the bag of trash would spontaneously combust as soon as it passed the entrance to the incinerator. I would heave the lid open, toss the bag in and slam the lid back down before the beast pulled me in.

This was usually followed by me running up the basement stairs at top speed before the lid slammed closed.

Fourth clunky transition.

So it's been a good week. But unfortunately for me, Sunday is coming. Sundays are the worst day of the week. It's the day the Ex and I hand off the kids. Depending on the week, it either means the beginning or end of my parenting time. Regardless or whether I'm coming or going, transition days suck. If I'm leaving, it's the loss of my time with the kids. If I'm coming, it's having to live under the same roof as the Ex.

The first day with the kids is always difficult. The transitions are tough on them too - maybe tougher than they are for me. I suppose they need time to adapt to my slightly different parenting style. I'm the heavy. I'm the one who doesn't put up with misbehaving or disrespect. The Ex is the boo boo kisser. I'm the one who holds them accountable for their poor choices. I'm a believer that both styles of parenting are required. The kids need a sympathetic shoulder that will comfort them when things don't go their way. But they also need someone who will tell them to get up and walk it off.

Too much 'boo boo kissing' and they grow up dependent and soft. Too much 'walking it off' and they grow up hard and aloof. I want my kids to be strong and capable, but also sensitive and respectful of other people's feelings. It's a tough line to walk. Especially alone.

I'd say child rearing is the single most difficult challenge related to the divorce. Rewarding, but difficult.

I think the transitions may be tough on The Ex too. Most of the visits from Shelby's Finest generally occur near transition days. She may be feeling some of the same separation anxiety I get when my parenting time ends. Of course, my anxiety occurs at Gary's house and we rarely need to call the cops.

It's also tough having your whole life tossed upside down every seven days. I've been living out of a suitcase for so long, at this point it's starting to feel 'normal'. Even when I'm at home, I find myself folding my laundry and storing it in my duffel. By the time this is over I'm going to be like Crocodile Dundee. He slept on the floor of the Plaza Hotel because he couldn't get comfortable in the bed.

Maybe I'll get a chest of drawers that looks like a suitcase.

I've been trying to keep the kids active. In the summer finding activities for the kids is easy. Now, it's getting more and more difficult due to the weather.

Fifth clunky transition. And probably the worst.

Last week I took the kids ice skating. I've never been ice skating before in my life. I was a little apprehensive to say the least. My 42 year old butt bruises a lot easier than it used to and takes a heck of a lot longer to heal.

But here's the thing - we had a great time. And I'm a pretty decent skater. I can't roller skate or roller blade to save my life, but I get around damn good on ice skates. I don't know that I can say ice skating is inherently different than roller skating, but I can tell you that it is possible to slide sideways on ice skates. If you do that on roller skates, you eat pinewood.

It's very similar to moving around on skis. At least to me.

Both kids had a great time. I got to skate with each of them and they both had fun learning and trying out something new. For those of you that care, The Girl seems to be a little more natural skater than her brother. By the end of the session she was skating by herself.

Big f'n deal. Right?

Well my point (if I have one) is that while I grieve for the old life I lost and the memories associated with it, it's never too late to do new things and make new memories. I can say with almost absolute certainty I will go ice skating again with my kids. And that will be an activity I will always associate with just us. There will be no memories of The Ex. Good or bad.

And that's my point.