Ever notice how divorced parents twist themselves into human pretzels over vacation schedules while their spawn sleeps on inflatable furniture? You'd think the Geneva Convention would have something to say about air mattresses, but here we are, watching another cosmic joke unfold in the grand theater of human delusion we call "co-parenting."
What we have here is the perfect fucking storm of existential absurdity: one parent planning a Disney pilgrimage with their new mate, another clinging to contractual clauses like a drowning rat to driftwood, and caught between them—a child whose comfort ranks somewhere between "Instagram photo opportunity" and "leverage in adult power struggles." Spectacular.
I found out he can adjust the dates up until May 15, and he won't admit to it (I have a copy of his girlfriend's parenting plan). In addition, I would like to clarify the only time I need to give up is for a work trip that is out of my control. My personal trip is on my non-parenting time, but I would have to cancel it to see my daughter for a few extra days before I don't see her for almost 2 weeks (except for 1 day). I appreciate all of the insights, but I don't know if I'm an asshole because I want to protect my parenting time with my daughter knowing I have a busy few weeks and travel required.
My ex reached out asking to take our daughter on a vacation, unsure of where to go and unsure of the exact travel dates, but probably Florida June 20-26. He will have her starting on June 18 due to his normal parenting schedule. I have a planned personal trip starting on June 18, and then have a work trip starting on June 28. Because of his request for me to give up the 24th & 25th to take her on this trip, and my work trip requires me to give up 3.5 days as well, I will only see her for 1-2 days in a span of 2.5 weeks.
In addition, our parenting agreement states that vacation requests cannot exceed 7 days, including any regular parenting time. Which he would be in violation of (6/18-6/26). And I can't take her the days before his trip, because I made personal plans to be out of town and can't change the dates (6/18-6/21). In addition, his initial request didn't point this out, so he didn't even read the agreement to make sure his request was compliant when he asked.
I told him I want to be flexible, but I can't and I don't want to go so long without seeing my daughter. He claims his dates are "locked in" and can't be moved. Which really means, his girlfriend agreed on the dates with her ex-husband (they don't seem to get along at all), but he didn't communicate anything to me until after they were finalized.
I did send the email thread to my lawyer, we have plans to go to mediation next month because he wants his parenting schedule to match his girlfriend's, and I'm not comfortable with that - also, my daughter sleeps on an air mattress at her house and has for months, which my ex won't do anything about until they move in later this summer. But that's a side issue to this one....
I told him I won't give him the days due to being in violation of our agreement and my concern about not seeing my daughter enough within the timeframe. Am I being an asshole about this?
AITA: Ex-husband wants a vacation before my travel for work
What we have here is the perfect fucking storm of existential absurdity: one parent planning a Disney pilgrimage with their new mate, another clinging to contractual clauses like a drowning rat to driftwood, and caught between them—a child whose comfort ranks somewhere between "Instagram photo opportunity" and "leverage in adult power struggles." Spectacular.
The Void Stares Back (At Your Parenting Plan)
Let's dissect this festering corpse of human connection, shall we? Daddy Dearest and his shiny new girlfriend have concocted a Florida vacation—that swampy peninsula where dreams go to die alongside elderly drivers—and they've "locked in" these sacred dates with all the reverence of ancient priests interpreting celestial movements. Meanwhile, his daughter sleeps on what amounts to a glorified pool toy at girlfriend's house. Fucking poetic.
The parenting agreement—that holy scripture of post-marital governance—clearly states no vacation shall exceed seven days. Yet here stands Father of the Year, wiping his ass with this divine covenant because his girlfriend's ex-husband—a character in this cosmic farce who never even appears on stage—has decreed it so. It's like watching monkeys fight over who gets to sit on the highest branch while the forest burns around them.
And our protagonist! Oh, sweet merciful chaos, what a specimen of self-righteous indignation! Clutching pearls over "parenting time" while simultaneously planning their own getaway. The hypocrisy is so thick you could spread it on toast and call it existential Nutella. "I want to be flexible," they say, while their spine calcifies into a rigid monument to passive aggression. It's the same flexibility exhibited by rigor mortis.
The child bounces between households like a pinball in the cosmic machine, oblivious that her comfort ranks lower than airline bookings and adult ego preservation. She sleeps on a fucking air mattress—the physical manifestation of impermanence—while the adults argue over schedules with the intensity of nations negotiating nuclear disarmament.
What's more gut-wrenchingly hilarious is how everyone involved believes their actions are motivated by concern for the child. It's like watching cannibals argue over which cooking method would best honor their meal. Your complex custody calculations aren't about your daughter's well-being—they're about maintaining the illusion that the universe gives a solitary shit about your feelings of parental adequacy.
The Punchline (We're All Assholes)
In the end, what have we learned from this domestic Shakespearean tragedy? That humans will wrap their pettiest instincts in the noble cloth of "parental concern" while their offspring develops back problems on inflatable furniture. That we'll invoke legal documents when they serve us and ignore them when they don't. That we'll drag new partners into old wounds like salt-crusted bandages.
The real asshole isn't you or your ex—it's the collective delusion that any of this matters in a universe spiraling toward heat death. Your daughter won't remember whether she spent June 24th in Florida or watching you scroll through your phone while muttering about "principle." She'll remember the air mattress, though. That shit stays with you.
Summary for Mouth-Breathers Who Need It Spelled Out
Ex wants vacation that breaks rules + you have trips too = kid barely sees you for weeks while sleeping on air mattress at girlfriend's house. 👪➡️💔➡️📅🔥. Everyone's fighting over schedule scraps while kid gets premium floor accommodation. 🛏️💨 You're all assholes playing musical homes with a child as the fucking chair. 🎭🤡 The universe doesn't care about your custody agreement, and neither does Florida. 🌴🖕
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