Update and Thanks
I am so grateful for all the good wishes people have sent out regarding yesterday’s post. I thought I would offer something of an explanation, and an update.
Aleesa is fine. We drove up, still with no success at contacting anyone on the phone. When we got to the house, it was empty, which we knew could happen but decided to do anyway. The police station was a few blocks away, so we went there and discussed the situation with an officer. Not surprisingly, there was little anyone could do. Without our custody papers (which we’d absentmindedly left at home in the rush out the door), the police could do nothing. With no clear proof that Aleesa was in danger, they could not offer much more than some advice, which I’m going to pass along to everyone here.
Our custody arrangement gives Casey residential custody of his daughter. All decisions about her health and education must be made jointly. Her mother does little to participate in this unless it serves her own purposes, but the right is hers nonetheless. Holidays are split, with Mother’s Day and mom’s birthday belonging to the mother, and vice versa for the father. Other holidays must be split evenly in a grown up fashion, which is to say, ex wife complains and bitches, and Casey does his best to keep the peace. She owes child support, including back pay from three years-worth of our custody. Since she has worked so seldom, nor when she has held a job has she even tried to pay, we’ve never received one cent. Yes, there are options out there, but they don’t mean anything if she isn’t working. She has a small job now, and if she tries to claim Aleesa on a tax return, we will make sure to block it.
Court ordered visitation is from Sunday at noon until Monday at 8 pm. And this is the sticking point in the eyes of the police. Visitation has moved around, both for her mom’s convenience as well as ours. If Aleesa misses every Monday from school (not to mention part of Tuesday since we’d get home off the train at 10 pm with an 8 o’clock pickup) our preschool would not allow her to be enrolled. And with Kindergarten starting in three months, the decision was made some time ago to switch visitation to Saturday-Sunday. But without the ability to pay the hefty fees charged by our lawyer, we face several risks going alone to court to change the papers to reflect the new arrangement.
This means that if Aleesa is with her mom at any time other than her court ordered visitation, such as this week which we generously offered to her mom for Mother’s Day, then we’ve willingly given her to her mother and have little recourse with the police. The only thing we could do is wait until Monday night at 8 pm and if she is not available at that time, we could then request police assistance.
“Don’t give Aleesa to her mom then.”
Yes, it seems as simple as that, doesn’t it? But Aleesa loves her mother, no matter what. And while I wish the bitch would fall off the planet, when she is clean and has her head on straight, she is not a bad mother–she’s actually a slightly better mother than I am since she likes to color pictures, watch cartoons, she isn’t trying to do homework, or write a blog, a book, a resume, a cover letter, or prepare for an interview. She’s fun. How does anyone look into the eyes of their child and tell them that, even though mommy loves her and mommy wants to see her and mommy isn’t in a homeless shelter this weekend and mommy isn’t smoking crack today, that mommy is living in a nice house with a backyard and a new boyfriend on his best behavior, NO, you cannot go stay with mommy today so stop crying and let Tia finish her homework for class tonight. I defy anyone to answer these questions, make these decisions easily, without making a few mistakes in the eyes of others.
I’m telling you all of this as a warning. God forbid you ever get a divorce or end up in a custody battle. God forbid you ever have to split your child’s life in half, with the love for mommy and the love for Daddy in direct opposition to one another. Make your decisions carefully. Make sure if you set up your visitation rights, you do so with an eye to the future. Because if you have to go back to court, you may not have the money for a lawyer to guide you down the slippery slope of the law. And if you have to go back to court, you may not be the only one with updates to the paperwork. Your ex can introduce whatever they want as well, and you might just find yourself in a worse position than you were in beforehand.
Aleesa is fine. As we drove away from the house, there they were, a happy laughing family of four walking down a sunny sidewalk, coming home from flying kites at the park. We stopped, and discovered mommy’s phone was surprisingly turned off, that she’d never received any of our calls for two days. Oops. And Aleesa was having such a good time. We felt guilty. Guilty for being paranoid, guilty for talking to the police, guilty for spending money we don’t have on a car we didn’t need. We felt stupid when we saw our child happy and enjoying a visit with her mother that isn’t there very often. So we made up an excuse, spent a few minutes with Aleesa loving on her, telling her how much we missed her, and that, yes, she could stay with mommy for a few more days. We made the best decision we could at that moment.
And no, we’re not happy about it.
Let’s Talk Yoga, Shall We?
I recently started practicing yoga. I love it, and it makes me feel pretty darn good when I’m done. But being an overweight 35 year old who hasn’t really taken care of her body can lead to some significant challenges. And for some reason, those uber-flexible monks who named the yoga poses weren’t really thinking of me during their creative process. Therefor, I have created a more accurate nomenclature for some of my favorite yoga poses.
- Here Kitty Kitty
My belly sags like an old Tabby cat when I do this.
- Super Tia
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! NO! It’s a woman trying to fit into skinny jeans!
- Push Up
Obviously, because that’s what it is. An old lady push up.
- Mission Impossible
No, I cannot lift my own body weight three inches off the ground.
- Downward facing-please don’t let me fart
Do I really need to explain this?
- Thank you God
Because I am eternally grateful to the powers-that-be for not passing gas in a nice quiet yoga studio.
- Please, not another school snow day!
Who doesn’t pray for this when they have kids?
- Boobie Balance
Can my sports bra overcome the laws of Physics?
- Reality Check
Like I need a close-up to see my fat belly.
- Nope gravity doesn’t make it look any better either
I’m always looking for a different perspective on my out-of-shapedness.
- Bag o’ Chips
I sound like I sat on my Cheetos when I do this pose.
- I’m too old for this s***
Because I can’t afford a chiropractor anymore.
- When hell freezes over.
‘Nuff said.
Garden Apartment?
Why do they call it a garden apartment?
When I think ‘garden apartment’, I picture a quaint Italian villa covered in rusted ivy, delicate salmon stucco, and a high walled garden off the back, overflowing with bougainvillea, roses, honeysuckle, jasmine, lavender, and tiny fruit trees. I think of humming bees and floating butterflies. I hear wind whispering through the green while I sit at an elegant iron table sipping expensive espresso from a tiny china teacup.
In Chicago, a garden apartment has sealed windows so criminals can’t get in. Sometimes the view is blocked by those 1980’s wavy glass blocks, or with frosted glass welded shut by eons of paint. No matter how opaque they are, they’re always covered by iron bars like a prison cell, and they never open. The view is half dirt and half leaves, or grass, or dead rats, all liberally mixed with trash from the street. The apartments are dark and stuffy, no way to air them out on a spring day, or after a meal of refried beans with sauteed cauliflower and broccoli. You cannot hear a summer rainstorm, cannot see the flashes of lightening in the sky, or smell the rich scent of wet renewal filling the air. You never fall asleep staring at the stars, basking like a druid in the light of a full moon. The balmy air of a summer night never touches your skin.
The biggest problem with a garden apartment is the price. They are so darn cheap. Look at one and your first reaction is “I wouldn’t live in this grave if it were the last hole on earth.” Then you get the price. As an example, my current third floor walk up costs me a jaw dropping $1370 per month with free heat only. To the east, my view is totally open–four almost floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a pair of enormous chestnut trees. In the back of the apartment, the western view out of my office is bright sun and three pretty little maple trees whose leaves stay long into the winter because they are sheltered between the buildings. I get a breeze when it is warm, and I get sunbeams to dream in while it is cold. I hear the rain.
Freelancing is tough, so yesterday we went and looked at a “Garden Apartment” located in a wonderful neighborhood near a great elementary school for Aleesa. I felt my soul shrivel as we wandered around in the little cave. Don’t get me wrong, the place is clean, big, and comes with lots of amenities. A talented decorator could turn it into an art deco’ studio-type space. But the windows were the size of a tissue box. The master bedroom doesn’t even get light since its windows are completely submerged in dirt. $685 per month. All utilities paid, with free high speed wireless internet and basic cable. We’d save over $1000 per month if we moved there.
I’m sick about this.
They Call Me Tia 
Your Comments