frenemies

bk came this morning to take the kids since he missed his visitation on wednesday. we talked for a while about how things will be changing now that s&b has started at the market(s). he committed to taking them every sunday from 8 until 3, which is huge, more than it's been in over a year. we're doing the tuesday afternoon market also and he's agreed to take them from 5 until 8 those evenings. he said last week that it would be good for him to have the kids more and it all seemed a bit too good to be true. *pause* 'so, what does all this mean for child support?' i explained that since he's already paying well under the state minimum that it means nothing, for now. we have an agreement. it's over. it's done. and unless i start making a million dollars a week here real quick i've got no sympathy for his plight. he's living in a ridiculously overpriced apartment (i mean, more than double the going rate) and in debt to his eyeballs but still, it's all about choices. just make the right fucking choices for once. spend some time with the kids. oh yeah, and pay me that back support you owe me...i'm almost caught up!

and for some reason, with the four of us sitting in the kitchen (d and ben were at the shooting range...and i'll save superdad the trouble: BOY ARE WE WHITETRASH!) i started crying. miss p was on her dad's lap and kept accidentally calling bk by the name she calls d. 'stop calling me that! i'm daddy.' *snickers* (he actually took it quite well, better than i would have...) 'renzo was being his usual wacky almost three-year old self. the whole thing is ridiculous and sad. *le sigh*