Out of the darkness and into the sun
But I won't forget the place I come from

Today's Title Song: "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson

Last night, I had to kinda "duke it out" with R. See, I am a bit control-freakish (NO! YOU DON'T SAY!), and I like to know when I have Princess (remember, R and I have shared parenting) so that I can plan appropriately. I put together a calendar, one quarter at a time, so that I know when I'm the responsible adult and when I get to have no responsibility like when I was 21. He, on the other hand, is perfectly accepting of the "fly by the seat of my pants" mentality ... and I just can't run MY life like that. I'm far too busy.

Anyhow, we had a "conversation" last night about the upcoming quarterly calendar. He wanted me to rearrange the calendar to accommodate TheBarWhore's (yes, I'm still bitter) visitation schedule with her kids, so that they could have free time together and the kids together. All "family-like". How Norman Rockwell of
them.

That conversation (OK, let's be honest ... minor discussion that almost escalated to argument when I let fly with "Oh so she's more than just a fuck-buddy now, eh?") took a lot out of me, emotionally. I really had to reconcile what was important to me last night, as well as test my own "boundaries and issues and shit". After the end of that conversation, I wanted to just curl up in a ball in the living room with my daughter on my lap and just cry big crocodile tears. I could really just throw a monkey wrench into his life by refusing to budge on the visitation schedule (like HER ex did), but as always I take the moral high road. I held my head high and "did the right thing". The reworked Q1 calendar went out this morning with a note explaining that, against my better judgment, I would do whatever I could to accommodate TheBarWhore's schedule because I knew it would make him happy. For someone that makes a living at being a professional bad-ass, I certainly don't do so great at it with my personal life.

How much more must I deal with, how much longer, until I get to the "acceptance" stage of grief? Because I keep flipping back and forth between the stages of "depression" and "anger". I mean, it's been a damned year already. Then again, it's been ten years and I'm still not over the Boston College / Notre Dame thing. But, I digress ...

I'm so lucky that D is truly an understanding and patient man. His drama with his ex is far more pronounced due to her less-than-stellar parenting skills, but he has to deal with her less and less. See, she doesn't really bicker about visitation ... he's got pretty much sole custody with the ex having visitation every other weekend, if she chooses to take it. But generally, she doesn't. He showed up as I was concluding the conversation last night, and I was visibly shaken. Well, as visibly shaken as I will let anyone really see. He endured my bad mood (bordering on depression), taunted me with talk of a road trip to NYC (his family's originally from there), and allowed me to soundly ridicule him as I put up my Christmas tree. He knew damned well why I was all bummed out, and he had a smile and a big hug for me. He's a total champ.

Anyways, my head is pounding. People have seen fit to miss deadlines now for TWO CONSECUTIVE DAYS. This is the sort of shit that makes the baby Jesus cry. How am I supposed to "go to bat" for these people if they can't manage to turn in some f-ing paperwork by not only ONE deadline, but a second EXTENDED deadline?

I swear. People (with one exception) just enjoy torturing me a bit too much. At least there is some saving grace in this God Forsaken World ... I have Christmas cards with martinis on them. Watch your mailboxes, kiddies. Princess and I are getting our photos taken on Saturday and the cards will go out by the 1st of December.