Final Judgement of Dissolution of Marriage, Division 49, 7th Judicial Circuit Court, Kim C. Hammond Justice Center in Bunnell, Fla., prepared by C. Michael Barnette, Esq., with The Law Office of C. Michael Barnette, Daytona Beach, Fla.
Judge Dennis Craig ordered, “The mother shall transfer the minor children to the father on or about May 12, 2012, which is one week after the father finishes his attendance at Embry Riddle Aeronautical University this term.” (page 13, first draft, FJDM)
It’s also the day before Mother’s Day, and, when I requested an alternate exchange weekend, Donkey responded, “I am [sic] don’t know that I can violate the Judge Craig’s order. I will raise this issue with Michael. It would be a good idea for you to address via Don.”
Eventually I caved. I told Donkey, “You may remove the children from their safe, consistent, stable environment on May 12, 2012. I had Father’s Day in 2011 & 2010.” I had Father’s Day in 2009, too, but Donkey was there, drinking and playing with his new samurai sword he bought for himself for Father’s Day. Don’t ask me about 2008 & in 2007 I was pregnant, so I’m pretty sure Donkey was drunk.
So that day arrived. It was
I screamed. I cursed. I hit my head against the window. I begged my mom to turn the car around. I demanded. I told the only person getting in the car with my kids who was capable of care, “anyone who supports a wife-beater is worthless.” And, I called her fat, twice. Which isn’t a lie, just rude. I refused to eat.
When I searched Donkey’s vehicle for a concealed weapon and drugs, he grabbed my arm and yanked me back out of the car. I went to the backseat and checked the carseats. They weren’t installed properly and when I told Donkey to fix it he argued against it; and then his sister argued that they were perfectly safe. They were not; carseats should not move more than one inch in any direction. Excuse me, but that’s about all I could do to ensure the safety of Is and No as they drove South with a monster. But, of course, it wasn’t until today that I considered reporting it to the police. I should have called the Chattanooga police and reported unsafe conditions. I didn’t. Story of my life.
I puked a half a dozen times like when I was 20 and had no sense and had to drink water just to have something to puke up. Except it wasn’t a filthy bar bathroom or my own less than white-glove porcelain prairie: it was in 2 different uni-sex gas station bathrooms, a coffee cup from QuickTrip, and a soda cup from Hardee’s.
I woke at 3:30 am, we left at 5:00 am, we arrived in Chattanooga at 2:00 pm, and back St. Louis, finally, at 11:00 pm. I didn’t fall asleep until almost 1:00 am. I woke, sick again, at 5:30 am, went back to sleep at 6:00 am, and got up when my parents came over at 11-something. Then I had breakfast, took a shower, did some shopping, watered plants, bought potato salad, and went to my sister’s to drop off her gift. I ended up staying for dinner and weeded her garden.
It’s a lifeless existence. Striving to fill time I never knew existed. Sleeping on the couch because I haven’t gone to bed alone for a month, and I haven’t woke alone in bed all year. I didn’t make the bed Saturday morning, and it still sits messy. My sink is full, yet no meal has been prepared nor served here for 3 days. I got up an hour later this morning and still arrived at work 30 minutes early.
I was home, changed, and back out the door before I used to even make it home. I heard the clock chiming as I went out the door and it used to be that I heard it as I came in the door. I ordered Imo’s, watched Bones, answered some emails and ignored others.