Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Divorce Court - Part 1 Of A Gazillion

I jumped out of bed at 6AM to the miserable sound of our alarm clock. Basically still asleep I reached over and “barfed” (story for another time) Insane Mama, telling her to get her sleepy ass in the shower. We both knew that this was going to be a stressful day. Obviously, the stress was teetering at the edge of unbearable due to the fact that I almost blew chunks all over the bedroom four times before even getting into the shower.

Now, for the purposes of this post I will refer to my ex as Insane Babies' Mama (or IBM). IBM and I had an appointment with the court’s mediation counselor at 7:45AM (just prior to the court appearance.) I knew that the mediation was going to be a joke, as we had tried it once before….and …did not see eye to eye.

Leaving the house before any of the kids were even awake was …kind of eerie, no yelling, fighting, clanking of breakfast bowls or shower towels strewn about. As we made our way down the street to our local coffee shop, we basically said nothing to one another. Just a few glances followed by gutturals barfy sounds. I think we were both nervous and anxious to get this all over with.

We picked up our coffee and headed to the highway. After getting on the highway, I noticed that we were in the red and about out of gas. I turned to Insane Mama and said”… we….should …make it down there. On the inside, kind of hoping that we’d run out of gas and not have to go. As my head was spinning, about all of the things that I wanted and needed to bring up in court, I felt as though I could not even see the road…I definitely should not be driving. But then…letting miss slow driving ass Insane Mama take over, we’d be late as hell. I continued to drive. Now any of you who are familiar with Los Angeles traffic will know that not only does it SUCK, but people seem to want to stop and cause traffic jams for not reason at all (again…story for another time). Every time I had to hit the breaks and slow to 10 MPH, my heart would begin sink and I’d get that twisty, knotted feeling in my stomach. All in all, every time the traffic slowed I felt like I would poo, toot and throw up all at once.

Anyway, we made it down to the courthouse parking lot at 7:40. I was freaking out that there would be a line to get in (happens a lot). Picking up the pace and walking like a “power walker on steroids” with Insane Mama trailing behind me throwing me those looks that state, quite clearly….”we will get there in time, relax, don’t be a lunatic, you spaz.” But I know that she did not say anything because she knew how stressed I was. Thanks Mama!

More to come!

10 Comments:

Deb said...

OK - since your sharing I'll be patient and wait for the 2nd installment in the gazillion.

I notice that mama taught you how to strikeover at least. She helped me too - but I'm an idiot and that's probably why she refuses to help with my twitter problem (meanie)

Love your advice on the scale - and might take you up on that soon

Kandace said...

I want to barf just reading it.

Are you sure it wasn't Salmonella?

insane mama said...

Well said, how did you know I was thinking that you were a lunatic?
are you a mind reader now?

TentCamper said...

Always have been. DAMN...now you know.

buffalodickdy said...

Well, you and The Insane One have one thing in common- you can't seem to tell a whole story in one post.... I know your girlie girl readers are okay with that- but I'm a guy!

Shyone said...

Wow, all this before 10am? How?
So, what happened? All thoses feelings. Yuck
I'm glad my divorce was amicable

Natalie said...

Ugg, nothing like a divorce hearing to mess with your day

TentCamper said...

Sorry Buffalo -

I hear you. I feel the same way, but this is just too much for one post.
How do girls do that anyway? What in the heck do they have to talk about on the phone that can possibly last more than an hour?

K8E said...

Hey! Who said 'girlie-girl' readers are ok with this? We may respect a blogger's inability to post something so horrible all at once, but that doesn't mean we're ok with it! Sheesh! :) More please.

Mama Dawg said...

IBM could also stand for Irritable Bowel Movement which I'm sure fits her as well.

 

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