Sunday, July 20, 2008

Well, *that* was fun

So, tonight Husband (I *really* need to think of something else to call him, don't I?) and I had The Talk with the girls. The one about how no, Daddy isn't coming to live with us in our new mapartment*. No, not ever. And surprisingly enough, the talk went great. Hell, the whole day was good.

He was late. He's always late. If he for once in his life showed up on time to something, I might very well soil myself. So, whatever. He was late. I'm used to it. If that's the worst that happens...

We had lunch. He looked at my electrical problems. We sorted out our needs re: child support and custody, etc. He played with the girls. We debated having sex. I made a fucking pot roast, for pity's sake. We had the talk, the kids were cool. It was great.

And then? Departure time. The Bear was literally in hysterics for an hour. I had to beg her not to shriek all the way upstairs to our apartment so that the neighbors wouldn't start gossiping. They're nosy like that. So we sat on the couch and cried. And cried. She cried. I cried because she was crying. She sobbed. She hyperventilated. She wailed. She howled. She practically tried to hurl herself out the window.

It was the most gut-wrenching experience. I felt so powerless. She was hurt and confused and sad, and there was nothing that I could to do fix it**. I hated myself in that moment for doing this to her, to our whole family.

Then, later, as I sat on the floor of my kitchen, in the dark, drinking warm beer***, talking to a fellow divorced friend, I found myself saying that I think Tank really has it easier here. She's two. She cried because The Bear cried, and stopped after about 5 minutes. She is so young, she'll never remember a time when we all four lived together. And then I realized: she'll never remember a time when we all four lived together. How fucking unbelievably shitty. There are no words for how wretched that makes me feel.

So, yeah. I guess this is how it is from here on out. I hope to hell this gets easier. Otherwise I'm going to have to start keeping the beer in the freezer.

*A Tank-ism. Everything starts with M. The apartment is a Mapartment, the remote is a Memote, etc... Very cute if you actually see it. Sounds pretty stupid otherwise.

**We settled on a late-night showing of Aladdin, a big bowl of popcorn, and a tall glass of lemonade. And an extended bedtime. Cause I'm a sap.

***My refrigerator is on the fritz. It steadfastly clings to the 50 degree mark, spoiling any and all perishable foods in days, and reducing my perfectly good beer to... well, you know what they say about warm beer.

Sunday, July 13, 2008


Internet, it is *so* frustrating to have something to talk about, that you can't actually *talk* about!

As I age, I'm trying to learn a modicum of discretion - a quality not abundant in my past, I'll admit. But damned if it's not the hardest thing in the known universe to do! I like to gossip. I love it. And to have juicy tidbits that can't be shared? Possibly the most frustrating sensation I know. Being good is *boring*, people.

Saturday, July 12, 2008


Not dead or gone, just very busy, and not always connected to the Internet.

Do you have any idea how hard it is not to have the Internet? I just moved, and I didn't have my Internet service set up right away, and then the day they were supposed to come, ComEd shut off the power in my building. all. damn. day. So, no service that day. Then, I left for a few weeks and I was all, like, why pay for three weeks of service when I won't even be home? I'll just get it turned on when I come back. So, I was Internet-less for many a day, plus on the road, driving all over hell and creation with the kids in the backseat, visiting various family groups, which was nice, but none of whom have the Internet connection I've become so accustomed to.

So, while moving, I was all, let's order a pizza! Now, I have no phone book with yellow pages yet to look up the number, but that's never stopped me before. I've always had the Internet. I hardly ever even use the phone book - quicker to look it up! But no, I had no phone book, no Internet - I was literally powerless to do ANYTHING! I had to go ask the downstairs neighbors* to borrow THEIR phone book, and they were all, phone book? We don't even have one. But we do have the Internet! So they kindly offered to google the place for me to get a phone number. So nice! Click, click, done!

Then, I wanted to visit this store a friend had told me about. I couldn't remember where she had said it was - on this one street, kind of over there, by some other stuff. So helpful. Ordinarily, I would just google it. But no, no such luck. I had to go to the store I could find, which was not the one I really wanted to go to at all, all because I had no Internet. And also no phone book.

Enough whining. I'll get it turned on when I go home, along with the gas so that I can cook on my stove, which I misremembered as being electric, which is why I never called the gas man. And then, again, I was all, why turn it on when I'm just leaving? I'll do it when I come back. So we ate only microwaveable foods for the week we were there. Shut up.

So, things are chugging along as usual. Divorce proceedings are... proceeding. Summer vacation is flying - I have no idea where the time has gone. Kids are growing like weeds - every day they come up with some new antic that just has me rolling on the floor. Those two are turning into friends on top of being sisters. It's really nice to watch. They're ridiculous, but in a really sweet way.

And I? I'm actually doing really well, all things considered. I like my new home, I love my job, the kids and I are a happy little family of three, and I've finally gotten to Acceptance. I'm okay with divorce and single parenthood and all that it entails. It won't be fun, and it won't be easy, but most of life is like that, at least in my experience. Why should this be any different?

*Very nice people. She came up to introduce herself on the day we moved in, and was very sweet in offers of help, etc. I like her. Her husband? Kind of an ass, it seems, which is a shame.