Co-Parenting My Daughter with a Child

My daughter has been at her dad's for three weeks now.  Our custody arrangement states that I have her every weekend and school break, and since he has moved to Washington, this will happen soon.  For the moment I am stuck in Alaska waiting for the settlement check from suing my creepy therapist.

When my daughter visited last Christmas, she showed me a cavity on her molar.  The cavity was big enough that I could easily see it with my naked eye and I am supposed to wear glasses. Horrified, I told her dad who said she had been to the dentist and there were no problems.  She could not remember the last time she had seen the dentist, but OK, not worth a fight as long as he gets her there now.

I reminded him twice in the next six months.  Always there was an excuse: not enough time, he had to work, the dentist couldn't get her in, insurance problems.  Since I was in Washington and they were in Arizona, I couldn't take her myself and felt helpless.  I offered to make calls if he'd tell me what days he could take her but he never knew his schedule.  How he managed to get anywhere on time must have been a miracle.

In April, he decided to move to Washington with his fiance.  I was overjoyed that all the begging I had done paid off.  It killed me when he moved to Arizona to be near his mom.  I had always feared that would happen. Sure enough, when his second wife was tired of being the sole bread winner he up and left.  He bragged to me he was leaving her with the holes he had punched in the walls.  She later told me the apartment charged her $3000 in drywall repairs.

His fiance began her new job May 1st in Olympia.  My daughter stayed with his fiance's mom in Arizona so she could finish the school year.  I was still asking for someone to take her to the dentist but was always told it wasn't in the schedule.  During that month I was only able to speak to my daughter three times.  I called and called, but no one ever answered the phone.  It was gut wrenching, especially since he said this woman was a "bitch".

My daughter finished her school year and met me in Alaska for the summer. When she opened her mouth to show me her cavity my heart broke.  Her cavity had gotten worse because her father couldn't make time to take her to the dentist. Turns out she had five cavities. The one I could see was so deep they needed an extra appointment to finish the filling.  I was livid!!!  I told him that she is his first priority and questioned how he could let her teeth rot for six months, knowing there was a problem.  He responded by accusing me of just trying to piss him off.  He generally thinks everything is about him.

When he was talking about moving to Washington I offered to babysit for him and his fiance.  I was worried that they would move somewhere else closer to family since there are four kids between them.  Plus any extra time I get with my daughter is worth it.  His response was I was "just trying to get close to" him, which came out of nowhere. There's never flirting or talking about anything besides our daughter but that's how he thinks.

Fast forward to today, mid-September.  My daughter has been home with him for three weeks.  A week ago, after me asking her daily about brushing her teeth, she finally said "Sorry mom, I don't have a toothbrush here."  I was shocked but didn't want to upset her, so I nonchalantly repeated what she said.  And I had heard her correctly.  I asked her if anyone had helped her unpack her suitcase because there was a toothbrush in the small pouch.  She said no one had helped her and she couldn't find it.  I told her to try using a washcloth to wipe her teeth.  She said the washcloths were for the little boy's baths and that her bath towel was too dirty.  She said she had been using her finger and toothpaste.

Even more livid than I had been about her cavities, I mailed her a toothbrush the next day, with a tracking number.  I have asked her every day this week if she got her package and every day she says no, they didn't check the mail.  Tonight, I heard her dad snap at her that he wasn't getting the mail tonight.  I looked at the street view of their home on Google Maps, and the mailbox is right across the damn street.  I hadn't mentioned the toothbrush issue to him because I didn't want him to get angry with her for telling me.  After seeing where the mailbox was, I texted him and asked him to check the mail.  His response?  That she had lied and really did have a toothbrush there.  She had only used her finger one night when she was stalling to go to bed.  His story does not make any sense.  She had nothing to gain by lying about the toothbrush and in fact, felt bad about it.

It's a delicate balance between fighting him and keeping a working relationship.  Kids do lie sometimes.  I know there is a toothbrush in the mailbox that she will get soon.  I would love to call Child Protective Services just so she could brush her teeth but they don't have funding for small issues.  Unfortunately, with my mental illness always lurking in the shadows, I have to appreciate what her father does do correctly and fight him when it is really necessary.

Cocaine, Oral Sex and How It All Began

My story begins on May 22, 1981.  That's the day my mom delivered me in dramatic fashion via emergency C-section.  She ran off with his best friend after a brief stint with my troubled father.  They left California, with me in tow, and headed back to Vancouver, Washington.  The love between them ran out quickly.  Mom headed to Barrow Alaska, leaving me with my grandparents.  She got a job and met My Mikey, as I used to call him.

My Mikey and mom fell in love over raging coke parties.  This was the 80's and they were living it up, enjoying huge wages from the pipeline deal.  I remember sitting on a lap with my chalkboard, telling my mom's friend about 'my coke', the dust from the chalkboard.  I watched everyone else snort line after line and figured I'd play along.

Inevitably the party would end, guests would leave and huge fights between my parents always seemed to happen.  Dishes thrown against walls and yelling were a part of our daily routine.  The fights would turn violent with hitting and kicking, shoving and strangling.  No one else would be there to stop them and I was only potty training.  Sometimes I was so terrified that my screaming would stop the fight, but usually they'd just wear each other out.

When I was three we moved into an apartment complex.  That's the first time I had sex.  Well, oral sex and with an older girl, not an adult.  But I was hooked.  I couldn't believe how good it felt, and I was so desperate for anyone to love me.  My parents were very neglectful, always either wasted or hungover.  I doubted, even as a toddler, if they even liked me. My love affair went on for the year she lived down the hall.

After two years, we left Barrow for Seattle. I'm not sure when, but My Mikey became Dad in Barrow.  I only saw my real dad once during the 4 years I lived up there and boy, are those some awkward family photos.  I didn't know my father until some years later. Turns out, Dad had a mental illness that would gravely effect our lives: Bipolar Type I.  His symptoms began shortly after the wedding and only progressed.

When he was depressed, he would suck all of the energy out of the room.  One day he grabbed a gun and three bullets. He told mom there was a bullet for each of us, that he couldn't take it anymore.  Obviously she talked him down but scary!  When he was manic, he was even more crazy.  He'd talk really fast and excitedly, his eyes would get larger with a slight bulge and dart around.  One day he drove home with a brand new truck that mom had no idea about.  We were living paycheck to paycheck and he financed $56k.  When mom made him return it to the dealership they refused to cancel the contract, costing my parents $8k.

My parents met new friends in Washington, leaving their coke days in Alaska.  The partying never stopped, and neither did the fighting.  At least once a month I would have to call the police to come break up a fight.  My parents were belligerent and mean, exacerbated when they drank.

One night, while the adults drank themselves into oblivion in the kitchen, I laid on the living room floor watching TV.  Bored and lonely, I ventured into the kitchen.  Mom stumbled over to me, slurring "You're going to try a cigarette."  I was 8 years old and begged her not to put it in my mouth. It stunk so bad, ugh!! I hated their chain smoking in our little house and begged them to stop often.  She didn't hesitate, and over the meek protests of her party buddies, she pushed the lit cigarette between my lips.  I coughed and gagged, repulsed by the hot stench coming from my mouth.  Horrified and sick, I ran to the bathroom to rinse my mouth out, once again feeling the deep void of my mother's love.

When I was about 12 mom reconnected with Dave, my real father's best friend.  She promptly filed for divorce from Dad, moving in with Dave and taking us kids.  That lasted until she tried to OD on pills while home alone with me.  Her friend just happened to call and notice something wrong.  That's the night the paramedics took her to the hospital to have her stomach pumped.

While mom was in the hospital, I lived with Dad. I walked in on him and mom's friend, the same one that called the paramedics, having sex during mom's hospital stay.  They were too busy to notice me (thank you for that).

Dad was incredibly mean and hateful towards me, which was nothing new.  Mom says that's the biggest reason why she left Mike, because he was that evil towards me.  I couldn't do anything right, ever.  One day he decided I didn't clean the tub well enough.  He slammed my face into the bottom of the tub and kicked down my bedroom door.  He told me to grab my things and drove me to mom's new apartment.  I was dumped like a piece of garbage on the sidewalk and felt worth as much.

Another day, while at the lake with Dad and my sister, a strange older man groped my recently developed breasts.  I was in the water up to my chest and he wanted me to help his little girl swim.  I felt his huge hands squeeze my breasts, and not just once.  I was so shocked and confused, thinking I did something wrong.  I quickly told Dad but he didn't do a thing.  The man just yards from us, getting away with molestation.  A few years later, I saw that sick man on Unsolved Mysteries.  He was on the run after raping his daughter.

During middle school, I went to Barrow Alaska to work for the summers.  I lied about my age so I could work in a restaurant.  It was right on the water, so when the ice pack came in I could see wild polar bears hunting.  I watched my sister in an Inupiaq blanket toss in celebration of harpooning a whale.  I rode quads and put up with my crazy grandma.  She loved to yank me around the living room by my hair when she was frustrated.  I masturbated as much as possible to make my time there bearable. By the time high school came, I had a burned-up clit and the excitement of a gold-digger getting the diamond of her dreams.