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Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Daily Chai Needs to Go to Bed

Saturday. I can tell you where the Daily Chai is. That little fucker is still at Starbucks and it hasn't made an appearance. Thinks it's too good to be consumed by the likes of me I bet. Oh well, I could be a giraffe.

It's actually Friday night, but I can foresee that by the time I post this, I will not have a chai latte in my hand. 

To continue. I decided that my children are partly angelic little darlings and partly sadistic little monsters. Did you know they are both very sarcastic? I mean, Kate, she's almost nine, she's got the pre-teen (please don't ever call her a tween, I might vomit) attitude down pat. She cocks her head to one side and just looks at me, blinking her eyelids sarcastically. That is a feat, blinking sarcastically, but she's a pro. Then she says, "Mooooom!" in the most annoyed way possible. Like whatever I've said is just the most impossibly ridiculous thing she's ever heard. She may have a point as I wax philosophical about the chicken wing I just ate. And then she shushes me and continues on in her story about Minecraft vloggers. I expect this of her, she is right around the corner of teenagehood. She's got to practice now if she's going to get the angst-ridden, tortured soul routine fine-tuned in time for her 13th birthday. 

But Anna. My darling, sweet, little pumpkin of an Anna. She's turned on me and become a little terror of sarcasm overnight. She's four. How is that even possible? She actually ROLLED HER EYES at me today and mimicked her sister perfectly, "Moooooom!" She then put her little, adorably dimpled hand over my mouth and told me it was her turn to talk. But they'd both been talking FOR HOURS already. When is it my turn?

Today was my ex's birthday. Kind of crappy. I don't know, it felt weird not to spend his birthday with him, to not make a big deal out of it, to not make him a cake, or get him a present. I saw him at Kate's end of March Break camp play, we sat side by side and played nice. I saw someone I know and as I was talking to her, I referred to him as my husband, which I haven't done since the first month of our separation. It just sort of popped out because it was just too awkward to say, "my ex-husband" as I gestured to him sitting beside me, waiting for this bloody thing to start. I already felt awkward as fuck, no need to make EVERYONE feel acutely uncomfortable. Oh...I have an idea, let's get into how we're actually separated but trying to make things work for the sake of the children so here we are together, isn't it so very modern and fantastic of us? No, thank you. 

But he heard me say those words, "my husband and I" and I'm sure it made him feel like shit. On his birthday. I'm not a complete bitch, I may not want to be married anymore, but I don't want to unduly make him feel like crap on his fucking birthday. Ugh. This sucks. Amazing how four little words can wrack you with guilt all over again. 

And by the way, to the parents that brought bouquets of flowers for your children for their end of week 30 second skit for acting camp, get a grip. This is how you are making all other parents feel

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