I didn’t take off my Red Sox hat at Zack’s latest ball game when they played the US National Anthem on a boombox (which is a new thing in this particular tournament), and I heard someone say, intentionally loudly, “Maybe she’s Canadian.” I wish. Truth is I hadn’t washed my hair, I had a headache from the scorching sun and the lack of appetite/eating, and I’m not particularly keen on lying by honoring the USA as “the land of the free.” Parental alienation is a daily injustice our family has endured since 2007. We all, my husband and his parents, were at Zack’s baseball game this week for a tournament game. Zack’s mother, my husband’s alienating ex Missy, has never, not once, asked for his opinion about Zack’s involvement in sports. For example, she registered Zack for (American) football when Zack was very young, and after a single game resulted in injuries to more than five elementary school players, she didn’t sign him up to play football again. Considering football has the highest status in our SW OH USA area, it isn’t a big surprise that, years later, Zack’s narcissist mommy still has the “my son is a football player” sticker on her SUV’s back windshield.
At this particular June 2018 baseball game, 13 year old Zack is stellar. He is a star left-handed pitcher, first baseman, and RBI leader. Sam, Zack’s dad, had no say in registering Zack for this team, but he DID toss and catch and throw and pitch with him since Zack was tiny. Zack’s baseball talent was always obvious. He outgrew our backyard as a small child to the point where they could only safely hit and throw at the nearby school with an actual baseball field. Now we are tangled in a family/custody alienation and contact denial battle which began in 2006 when Sam told Missy, Zack’s biological mother, that he no longer believed in their marriage. (Read the earliest stories in this blog to see the progression of alienating behaviors.)
Zack plays baseball. He’s an excellent teenage player. It seems so simple. But we’re fighting for our family, and on May 16 this year our county court agreed Sam must have a summer vacation/family time with Zack after a year of contact denial. Sam asked Zack what he would like to do. Zack said camping. Zack’s mom told Zack’s dad that he couldn’t go on vacation so far away that he might miss baseball. Sam agreed to stay nearby. Missy’s attorney, when she told him about Sam’s agreement to stay nearby, said a “staycation” didn’t count as vacation so Zack didn’t need any of that dubious “vacation time,” with his father. Sam’s attorney countered with, basically, bullshit, Sam gets extended summer parenting time per the court order. Respecting Zack’s baseball commitment AND his request for a “camping trip,” Sam registered time at a local campground which would allow for the unpredictable summer tournament schedule’s demands — if they win, they keep progressing chronologically and geographically, but if they lose they’re done. HOW CAN ANYONE PLAN FOR ANYTHING, let alone a desperate grasp for family reunification in these circumstances? In other words, Sam is both court-ordered and desperate for time with Zack, but the unpredictable baseball tournament schedule makes planning this time impossible.
So Zack’s team won the regional championship. It’s no surprise, based on predictable alienating behavior patterns, that Zack called Sam today and said he doesn’t want to miss baseball practice, and now he refuses to go camping, even though he could easily do both because of Sam’s careful campground selection.
THIS is a perfect example of the alienation game we’ve played for a decade. If Sam says yes to Zack and his all-powerful mother, Sam tap-dances to honor Zack’s request to go camping, but then agrees to cancel the camping reservation and take him to baseball practice instead. Sam allegedly has these “vacation” summer days with Zack but, they are also currently challenged as invalid “staycation” days, since we’re not going anywhere SPECIAL for “vacation.” This this this this THIS is ONE example of the madness of alienation, but we persevere and play ball…
One story. From one day. One example. More than a decade of alienation.