.When the kids come back from visitation, they scream and freak out, have a hard time readjusting. I get the hard job, he gets the good side of them and i get all the Big Feelings. I get told stuff like "I miss daddy now because he doesn't get me in trouble when I bite people."
I am so mad that he gets to just "visit" and dump everything on me, and I can't even be rid of him for good like I want to. Truly, I don't think that my breaks in Plan B are what's going to nail the coffin, its going to be the kids and visitation thing. What he is doing to OUR KIDS and rubbing the other woman and making it all out like it is some kind of a FUN TIME!!!!!!!!! It makes me so angry and hateful.
And the only thing I have to look forward to is him getting more visitation as they get older.
Reminds me of the "Mean Mother" poem that goes around on the net. I will copt it hear if you haven't seen it.
___________________
"The Meanest Mother"
I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate
candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others
had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can
guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also.
But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two
brothers had the same mean mother as I did.
My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd
think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and
where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that
we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute. I am nearly
ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each
time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was
used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you
imagine someone actualy hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now
you can begin to see how mean she really was.
We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always
wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because
she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we
have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends?
The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night
and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our
friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break
the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make
beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid
awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.
She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and
nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.
By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life
became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for
us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates
and friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a
girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really
there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if I'd had a
boyfriend to elope with. I forgot to mention, while my friends were
dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned mother refused
to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen, that is, if you
dated only to go to a school function. And that was maybe twice a year.
Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie
in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends
had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home
from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends'
report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for
failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for
nothing less than ugly black marks.
As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put
to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind
us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the
pleasure of being a drop-out.
My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four
children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us
have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my
brothers served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we
have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our
mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a
protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a
million and one other things that our friends did.
She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.
Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three
children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my
children call me mean.
Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in
the whole world.
written by Bobbie Pingaro (1967)
_______________________
You have a right to be Mad, especcially if he is playing "Nice Dad" and letting them run wild, and you are doing the real job of loving them and teaching them responsibility. When they are kids you are so mean, but when they get older they will understand that you were teaching and preparing them for life.
Some things they might not realize until they are 30, but the facts that you told them, will help to solidify good habits and descisions and by then, they will see who WH was, and how misleading being "Good Dad" was.
I still have troubles with my kids, because for years I would let it all be on my shoulders, to give my wife the chance to come to them someday, and say."Well when you were younger I did this and that, and that is why this and that happened, and it wasn't all your Fathers fault, that we struggled like we did. Thats a gamble I took, and a cross I bore, so my children would have a stable home while young. I sacrificed some of thier trust for them not having to deal with all the issues and drama of our problems. When they got older they figured it out, and I explained when nessesary, but they still don't completly get it, esspecially my daughter, my Sons do fine.
My daughter idolized my wife, because at one time, she was an awesome woman, crap i still love that woman, and she has been gone two years after years of crap that brought her to her grave, after she lost it. There is the problem though, DD got used to blaming Dad, and now she still does sometimes, because she was used to it. Its like she is still sticking up for Mom, when if I had brought out the truth when they were young, I would have crucified thier Mom, and who would have suffered the most? The children. No I manned up and took it, for the kids, and they might never see that I did it for my wife also, to break the line of the curse her family had laid at her feet for her children.
You can do it Mehr, and it will be for you that you will take it for your children. Yes you have the honor of teaching them how to live in the world, and he plays "fun dad" in fantasyland. They will realize what is the tough part of love when they get older, and will be stronger for it. Its for thier protection, even if they don't realize it now, or ever give you credit.
Like I said it is for you, and your conscience will be clean, that you lived well and taught your children, and as thier ages change, and they become more aware, you will be able to explain what happened in bits and peices as they can understand. They will learn to trust you and come to you for the harder questions in life, when they realize what they are, because you live in the real world, where people are important, not used for fantasys