his ex-wife is not so much concerned about his parenting skills as just plain pissed off. The majority of her court filings reveal her belief that Jim is disrespecting her along with her concern that Jim will keep Elizabeth from her if he obtains custody—even though she’s the one interfering with access. She believes he should retain no parental rights and seems focused on achieving that goal at any cost.
Having enjoyed a lengthy career in law enforcement, she is just a few years away from retiring, and to get caught committing perjury could threaten her certification. Although I am not with Jim during every interaction, I have been present during the majority of their exchanges and am privy to most of their correspondence. Therefore, I have firsthand knowledge that she has filed court documents containing lies, made false statements in order to obtain a protective injunction, and perjured herself in the courtroom. She has also called Jim’s employer to file complaints against him and has reported to the city that our swimming pool has no fence.
Jim hires an attorney, and court documents are filed refuting her complaints. He fights the injunction in court, and it is overturned. His employer rejects her complaints as the unfounded attacks of a bitter ex-wife. The city inspector comes and sees that we have a motorized pool cover in compliance with city codes.
The injunction, although eventually dismissed, interferes with several weeks of Jim’s parenting time, but Elizabeth’s mother finds an abundance of other excuses to justify her failure to make the child available to her father. After moving forty miles away from Jim, she demands that he continue to pick up the child at day care in accordance with the court-ordered parenting plan—even though she has violated it herself by moving without prior notification and the required plan modification. Jim’s work schedule and the long drive now make it impossible to pick up Elizabeth before day care closes.
Jim files pleadings to modify the parenting plan, and by the time the court date arrives he has missed several more weeks of parenting time. Elizabeth’s mother suffers no consequences for violating the court orders, which is akin to dumping fuel on an open flame. Little do we know these are just the first in a long series of attacks.
These battles take their toll—on Jim, on me, on our relationship, and surely on the children. We don’t discuss the court case or demean his ex-wife in front of either child, but no matter how much we try to mask our stress, the children sense it.
On this night we drop Elizabeth off, and I know Jim feels the strain of wondering whether his daughter will be delivered at the next scheduled time or whether his ex-wife will come up with a new method of interference. Although I am unsure whether Michael is upset because his sister has left again or because he senses his father’s angst, what I do know is that I desperately want to stop Michael’s pain.
On our way home we pull into a shopping plaza to pick up pool supplies, and I tell Jim I want to take Michael to the nearby department store. Michael holds my hand during the walk, and I ask if his stomach is feeling any better. He says it is not. I pretend I am there to shop for clothing, but I take him to the back of the store, where there is a very small toy department. I am hoping a new toy will distract him, as the paper dolls did me.
“Why don’t you look around, pick something out?”
I am drawn to a row of stuffed animals—all soft, fluffy, adorable, and cuddly. Just looking at them makes me feel better. Michael is still young enough that he adores the stuffed animals he has at home. But I peer around the corner and see him holding a miniature treasure chest.
“Can I have this?” he asks.
I look at the tiny trunk and think that he will become bored with it quickly; once he hides something inside it, it will be cast aside.
“That’s cool,” I reply. I look around at the shelves near him and search for something I think will hold his interest for more than a few minutes. But the toy section is so small that there is little to choose from. I turn back to the stuffed animals. I grab a small but soft and floppy cat. I hold its head between my thumb and forefinger and its paws with my other hand. I step into the aisle, stretch it out toward Michael, and turn its head in his direction. It looks eerily real.
“Michael, I think this cat wants to come home with you.” I turn the head further and wave at him with one of the cat’s paws.
Michael smiles.
I make a little mewling sound and turn the head again. “I think he’s talking to you.”
Michael puts the treasure chest back on the shelf and reaches for the cat. He takes it out of my hands and pulls it close. “Can I have him?”
I nod in reply.
We go to the checkout, pay for the stuffed animal, and walk outside to meet Jim at the car. We all climb inside and buckle up.
“What’d you get?” Jim asks Michael.
“Show him,” Michael says and hands me the cat.
I take the cat, holding its head and paws, and again turn the cat’s head so that it is now looking toward Jim. “It’s Michael’s new cat,” I say, and then I wave at him with a paw. I’m surprised at how alive the little toy appears to be. I turn the head back toward Michael, and he reaches for it with tiny outstretched hands.
He holds the cat the entire way home.
Once back at the house, I get Michael ready for bed, helping him to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas. He climbs into bed holding the cat. “I want to sleep with him,” he says. “Will you make it look real again?”
“Sure, honey.” I tuck him in and then reach for the cat, turning the head to the side as though it is peering at Michael; then I bring it closer to kiss him on the cheek. He giggles and grabs the cat, pulling it under the covers with the head sticking out.
I lean in and kiss his forehead. “How’s your stomach?” I ask.
“It’s good.”
“I’m glad it’s feeling better. I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too.”
I get up and walk toward the door, reach for the light switch. “Good-night, Michael.”
“Good-night, Kate.”
“Good-night, Cat,” I add.
Michael is suddenly pulling the cat out from under the covers. And then I see the tiny stuffed cat paw waving at me in reply.
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