Shouldn't…but Do

The sunrise is stellar this morning, even an hour or so ago, the clear eastern sky hinted of the brilliant palette to come.  Small tufts of nighttime clouds yawn their way west.

I had hoped to be above those clouds about now, had plans stretching back a couple of years to be nestled into seat 11B, watching the dawn, finally wending my own way  somewhere else, instead of from ground level, watching planes and all those clouds, pass me by.

A matter of possession, as always.  Key is whose possession?  Do my children belong to their father, the Confused Soul, to be required to stay with him for the week whilst I was on pleasure bent?

Or, are my children entitled to stay where comfortable, with dear  family friends, yucking it up and knoshing on good times and foods that only staying with loved ones can provide?

Court documentation sides with the entitled view, that the children would be required to attend the Confused Soul only if I were hiring them out.  $600 of attorney time sides with the entitled view.  Even the custodial court investigator I met with this week for two hours, sided with the entitled view.

But, as ever, the Confused Soul does not see it that way – and being in possession of them this weekend – well, he noted last night, he would just defy the Court Order and keep the children for the rest of the week.  Despite the fact that their relationship is in fair shambles at this point, even given months of therapeutic intervention.

During their last of three required weeks together in August, the Confused Soul became so enraged he ripped books, yanked arms, locked the objects of his possession out of his house on a hot day, and refused to give them water until they did what he said. To be fair, loss of temper, mean spirited comments, and lots of screen time is more usual for the Confused Soul – he only resorts to physical force when completely “loses it.”

What would you have done?  Even without more physical violence, my oldest child is close to deciding, given more required time with his dad, that he would take the younger one’s hand and walk out the door, leaving them on the road somewhere between here and there, while I relax on a beach far away, unwind from a hellish year, and bury my head in the sand.

Would my children survive another week with the Confused Soul at this point? My guess is yes.  Is surviving the point of childhood?  Or is thriving?  Did my real need for  time away, with friends who remember me,  trump the emotional state of my children?  I could have tousled heads, kiss kiss, you will be fine.

I had already checked in online, had my boarding passes,  packed, arrangements made, every detail covered.  Everything.

I canceled the reservation late last night.  With attorney fees to discuss the issue, the plane ticket and such, economic damage of $1200, plus untold lost energy in discussions, meetings, arranging, trying to handle things right.

My favorite ball cap notes women who behave rarely make history.  I would have given a lot to be aloft right now, but not  the well being of my children.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one, the man said.  You pay your money, you take your chances.   That seems to be the view from the ground these days.