Profanity Philled Rant about Draco (spelling mistake intended)

So this afternoon I am hanging out with my man and the phone rings....it's the ex's cell number on my Caller ID. Those of you that know me will know that this event only takes place in cases of extreme emergency. He doesn't speak to me, ever, we only communicate via email. Pretty effing twisted since we see each other 10 times a week for pick-ups/drop-offs. So I answer and he's telling me he is at the courthouse for our hearing and where am I? WHAT?!?! This is MY hearing, MY day in court that I have been patiently waiting for for MONTHS now. I flipped my lid on him, so he put his lawyer (let's call him BS, short for Big Shot..or whatever :P) on the phone and I tore the guy a new one. How in the HELL was I not served with notice of this hearing, MY hearing? I ended up hanging up on BS and hopping in my car. I drove like a maniac (thank God for radar detectors) to the courthouse and as I was approaching, I see EX and BS outside, waiting for me. I peeled into the first spot I saw, parking half on the curb and hauled ass up the courthouse steps. BS greets me with a "Good Afternoon, Miss (insert last name)" to which I snorted "go to hell" and slammed my way through the doors like the classy broad that I am.

I walk into the conference room and there are signs on the table for Defendant and Applicant. At the Defendant side of the table, there is a barely any elbow room due to the well organized stacks of papers and manila folders. On my side, there is a jug of water and a glass. Empty and bare. My folder is at home, chock full of well organized notes to follow and point form arguments to make. It's at this moment it hits me - I have nothing but me.

The Judge walks in and I apologize for being unprepared and express my extreme upset about not being notified of the hearing date. She completely understands and although it appears that it was an error made by the court registry, BS's office also should have notified me and didn't. I would be willing to bet my left tit (and it was 'spency LOL) that this was a tactic. Somehow, some way, this was done to make ME look like an ass. Job well done, boys.

After asking a few routine questions, the Judge allowed me to say a few words. I think I did a pretty decent job getting my point across as to why we were there. I explained that the current schedule is hectic (back and forth ten times a week, yes TEN) and that with the majority of my time with my son being daytime, I am unable to persue the option of going back to work full time because I would never see him. To add insult to injury I would then be 100% financially responsible for daycare costs because it would fall into "my" time. When it came time for BS to explain why they were so opposed to my application, he goes on this big rant about my "disabled down syndrome kid" (yes, that's a direct quote) and how any change to the schedule may be traumatic for him. GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK. I literally wanted to leap over the giant round table and strangle the life out of this ignorant piece of crap. The fact that M has Ds has NOTHING to do with this situation!!!! Is that the best he's got? Is EX really ok with his lawyer playing the Down Syndrome Card in court? Could I have honestly procreated with such a fucking asshole? Apparently so, because he sat there, all smug, leering at me from across the table. I guess I really don't even know him any more, who the hell is this Phil guy anyways?

Anyways, before I go off on a tangent about the remainder of the conference, it ended with the Judge saying that since the application is so vehemently opposed, this must go to trial. Guess how long of a wait it is for a trial? 6-8 months. SIX TO EIGHT MONTHS before this can be resolved. And of course, no guarantees that I will win. Things could very well remain as is and if I choose to work full-time, it will mean seeing my son ONE evening a week. What the FUCK.

Needless to say, I am beyond upset. I have never hated anyone as much as I hate EX right now. I loathe him and that's not nearly an intense enough word. I envision myself opening the door the next time he comes here (tomorrow at 5pm) and throwing him off the porch, right on his fat ass for all the neighbors to see. I imagine walking into his place of work and just plowing him, square in his smirky fucking face. You're probably wondering how I can be so cruel, right? If only you knew what this bastard has put me through since I left his sorry ass 3 years ago. It has been month after month of hell, with me always conceding and giving in to his ridiculous demands because I can't deal with it any more. Throughout the separation, my lawyer called him Draconian, in fact she even printed it in a letter about him, which I will save for years to come. I just might start calling him that to his face. Thousands of dollars wasted on said lawyer (which is the reason I don't have one this time around) for what? I walked away with nothing and every time I turn around, I'm bending over to take it up the ass all over again.

I am an absolute mess right now, my eyelids are swollen, my right leg won't stop shaking and I have that stupid hiccup thing that happens when you cry too hard.


This sucks.


edited to add: I came out of the courthouse to find a parking ticket on my windshield. Fuck me.