I never thought I’d be in this position.
I’m a veteran. I served my country. I work hard managing an urban clothing store. I make $35,000 a year. It’s not much, but I stretch every dollar for my two boys.
I have them most of the time. More than half. In fact, for the last seven weeks straight, they’ve been with me. Their mother hasn’t even seen them.
She’s not struggling. She’s a dental assistant. She also sells Herbal Life. She makes $150,000 a year. She lives well. Vacations. Cruises. Paris. Disney trips. All without me, all without the boys ever telling me about it until after it happens.
Yet I’m the one paying child support.
She owns the $350,000 house we live in. I pay no mortgage because it’s in her name. But it’s not a gift. It’s leverage. Whenever she wants, she can remind me that I’m living in “her” house.
When I’m not working, I’m with my boys. Parks. Simple clothes. Sometimes Six Flags if I save enough. They don’t get Disney Cruises with me. They don’t get Paris. With me, they get what’s left after the bills.
It kills me when I hear their stories about what they do with her. I want to give them the same. I want them to smile the same way when they talk about time with me. But I don’t make $150,000 a year.
In court, I told the judge. Seven weeks. No visits from her. She was “doing training.” She still wanted me to pay child support.
The judge looked at the numbers. Looked at our custody schedule. Then looked at her.
And for once, someone said what I’ve been thinking. It’s not fair for the boys to have everything with her and scraps with me.
The judge ordered her to pay me $1,456 a month. Starting next month.
I thought I’d feel relief. And in some ways, I do. But then I realized something. She still has the money. She still has the trips. She still has the house in her name.
And deep down, I think she will resent me for this. Which means my boys will pay the price in other ways I can’t control.
I won the case, but I’m not sure if I won anything at all.
