For 2 nights this week I had to sleep sitting up. I was having too much reflux to lie down.
And that, my friends, is bullshit. It is also not conducive to sleep whatsoever.
This has come from Stanley the stupid head and our negotiations again about the house, kid time etc.
I would not trade for a minute our birdnesting experience. It was so good for the kids and they have felt stable. I have often times felt unstable, but when compared to the kids, who cares about me. I am the adult, I have better coping skills, and I am the one that married someone I couldn’t live with long-term. My motto for this time has been,
Have panties, will travel…
Birdnesting basically deferred all of these financial decisions for 4 years…
I hate Stanley.
He is a selfish pig from the sandpits of hell.
He brought nothing into this marriage but one box of crap and a leased car. I had 30K in equity in my house and a paid for car. So in addition he is a stupid, selfish pig. Al and I are refinancing. We have been up and down with the mortgage broker about how to get some cash out of the refinance (Al and I on the mortgage and Stanley the hell off) and it all depended on our appraisal which was last week. Stanley did finally figure out (beer monkeys are stupid, y’all) that it is in his best interest to let us refinance but he wanted 10K out. Any possibility of that depended entirely on the appraisal. So, it came in, are you ready, 20K under when we bought in 2010. I have no idea why. We have done improvements but chickie seemed to go only by comps and we live in a neighborhood where there are still old people living in their houses and when they sell, they haven’t been renovated, and sell for $77 per square feet. That pulled our comps way down. We were counting on at least $110 per sq foot. So, he starts saying ‘then this deal isn’t going to work,’ and I started saying, ‘well you can’t get blood out of a turnip.’
Bottom line, I can’t bear the thought of putting the house on the market, moving the kids and all of this while getting married and all of us adjusting to that.
So, I started working with the mortgage guy on any possible ways of getting 10K out to give him to JUST.GO.AWAY. With that appraisal, there is no equity in it, so basically, he gained nothing in 18 years but I lost 30K. Now, btw, he has the paid for vehicle and I ended up in a lease. It cost me a lot to be married to that dumbhead.
In addition to this, he is still wanting 50-50 custody.
I am all for both parents having the kids equally. That is what we do now, but we don’t. I pick them up from school (because I am available and he isn’t) and I love it because I get to see them every day whether I’m on or not. But I also do sick days, all their laundry, homework, all their errands, etc. So, he makes this grand, “Plus, I still am going to have 50% custody” on Sunday when we exchanged.
Then, the very next day, Monday, Jumping Bean is sick. He sends me a text,
“JB is sick, I’m at work. Can’t come home.”
Hmmph. Okay, well, he is on kid duty until Wednesday and the first day of this cycle and he is unavailable.
The next morning, Tuesday, I get a text.
“JB home sick again. Merlot didn’t feel well but went. I’m busy at work.“
Hmmph. Okay, well JB needs to go to pediatrician and before I got out of the shower, Merlot called sick from school.
Pulling this baby out.
Because I have to work too, although it is more flexible but it doesn’t matter! This is his kid time and he can’t be saying how he is going to have 50% custody if he doesn’t do it now. Aargh. Choke, choke, choke. Stomach acid galore. I pick up Merlot and deposit her to the sofa, take JB to the ped, go to Target for meds, stop and get them both some soup, note I did not work. I left, when he came in, for Mom’s, cussing him under my breath.
To add insult to injury, he told me that he was looking for houses and wanted us to determine how we are going to split up furniture.
I had a house with furniture before I ever let his sorry ass move in. We’ve bought nothing much together. I’m going to have to kill him.
Then, he dropped this little tidbit… The house 2 streets over which would have been perfect,
“I’m not interested. It doesn’t have space to brew my bee-ah.”
Y’all might have to bail me out of jail.