Saturday, February 26, 2005

So a King walks into a Barber Shop...

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that my wife has told me that the only time my son can get a haircut is during my Saturday visitation with him. Yes, I'm serious. During the 5 hours I get to spend with my son on Saturday she insists that I get him a haircut. Seeing that I get a total of 7 hours per week with my son right now spending time to get his haircut is not high on my list of things to get done. So today she asked me (in a kind of sarcastic way) if I was planning on getting him a haircut.

Here's what I wanted to say: "Why yes, I plan on taking an hour of my precious time with him to take him to a barber, wait in line, try to keep him calm and deal with a possible temper tantrum afterward just because you think that barber shops are only open between the hours of 1 and 6 PM on Saturdays."

What I said: "We'll see."

I would love to give sarcastic answer #1, but my lawyer insists that I keep things as civil as possible. Ah well, things will definitely get more interesting once I can tell her what I think of her visitaton and haircut plan. I don't think my lawyer will have a problem if I send her the hours of a local haircutting place (which happens to be open on Sundays) if she sends me an email complaining about no haircut.

So today my son and I nearly wore out the elevator at the mall. He used to love riding the escalator, but now the elevator is the big attraction. He especially loves pushing the buttons, then saying "Go!" when it starts. It's a glass enclosed elevator, so you can watch as you go up and down, and he loves that. We went for pizza and he amazed me. He turned 2 just last week and he ate his entire lunch using a fork.

While we were at the mall a woman decided she wanted to meet me. My son and I were sitting on a cushioned bench playing with his cars. We were having a blast - and suddenly this woman sits down on the very edge of the bench. This might not sound too bad, but my son and I were already on the end of the bench. I really didn't care that much so we moved over so she could have more room. She moved over and introduced herself, saying that she was shopping with her friends. I didn't really respond because I was playing with him, but she kept talking. I learned about how she doesn't really like children so she didn't want to have any. Luckily I was saved by a well-timed sneeze by my son - maybe she thought all children were disease vectors also, because when he sneezed on her it had the effect of Holy Water on a vampire.

If she happens to be reading:
  1. When you want to meet a man, look your best, a sweatsuit and bed-hair badly hidden by a dirty baseball cap doesn't cut it.
  2. If you don't like or want children, the fact that the man you want to meet is playing with his child might be an indicator of a problem.
  3. If you decide, despite #2, to proceed, don't tell the man playing with his child that you don't like or want children in the first few minutes of conversation. Wait at least an hour.
  4. Do your best to hide the fear that contact with any 2-year-old will result in an immediate and horrible death from a bizarre tropical disease.

On another note, I had the second appointment with my counselor the other day. It was even better than the first appointment. We talked about my week, especially the events of Tuesday. It was pretty hard, I miss my son and I was very upset that my wife was opposing me having more than 7 hours a week. There was a lot more we discussed, but one of the things he said was that the whole thing is a tragedy. He was referring to more than my wifes stories and her intransigence regarding visitation. It's something that I've talked to friends about, but I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here. Mental Illness. The problem that is behind everything. Can I blame my wife? There are times I do blame her, mainly when I'm on the receiving end of some ridiculous action by her, but I'm not a stupid man. I know my wife didn't decide to become mentally ill, that's one of the reasons I stayed with her so long. You don't walk out on your husband or wife when you realize their sick, mental or not. Despite all she's done, and all she's likely to do in the future, I still feel sorry for her. I can't imagine what it's like for her. I think the only people I can feel justified in being angry at are her family. They know something is wrong, yet they sit with their heads in the sand, probably thinking that the problem will go away if they ignore it long enough.

Well, now that I've been working on this for almost 4 hours I suppose I should go ahead and post it. One last thing before I do that, however. Do you know what the best thing in the world was today? The hysterical laughter of my son as I sat in the car squawking like Donald Duck. I sometimes think there's nothing so healing and healthy as that laughter. I just wish I could experience it for more than 7 hours a week.