The Daily Chai and Kids of Divorce, Part 2

The Daily Chai hates me. It has decided, in its existential crisis that because I didn't order it, it ceased to exist and now, just to spite me, it won't come back. This is what happens when hot drinks start questioning their reason for existence.

I wrote a couple days ago about how Kate is dealing with my separation and the essential splitting of her family as she knew it. Some of you asked, "But what about Anna?" Anna...is a different story. She's only four and she doesn't really understand what's happen or why it's happening. At this stage in her development, she is only beginning to understand cause and effect. Added to that, the world revolves around her and her wants and needs. She understands home and daycare, but her world is pretty small and therefore, fairly uncomplicated. The complexity of adult relationships is beyond her grasp of understanding and she only knows the close, affection bonds between herself and her sister, her mother and her father.  Bonds that have been tested harshly and, in the case of my ex and I, broken. She is striving for independence when she insists on picking her own clothes and getting herself dressed, but she still depends on both me and her dad for the majority of her other needs. She has three feelings: happy, sad and frustrated as fuck. So try explaining that while mommy and daddy don't want to be married anymore, that doesn't mean they don't love YOU! Yeah, right. Really? You guys used to love each other, what happened? Are you going to stop loving me one day? Why don't you love each other anymore? Why don't you live together anymore? Are you going to live together again? I want you to, so you better get on that.

The other night I went over to the house for a visit and Anna came out of the office with a woeful expression on her face and the sad tale of her mean sister Kate not drawing for her anymore because she was doing math. It set the tone for my entire visit, this tearful little face with the trembling chin. She got frustrated when I didn't draw the stick figure EXACTLY to her little dictator's unspoken expectations (I drew it with hands for the love of god, what the fuck was I THINKING??). Then it was time for bed and I do believe all parents will understand the extreme, frightening, nearly bloody tantrum that suddenly erupted at the words, "Okay my darling, bedtime!" Oh well. I carried her writhing, screaming body upstairs anyway and dumped her on my bed to get her undressed.

"But I didn't get to cuddle with you mommy! I want to cuddle!" She screamed in my face. Trying to stay calm, but needing to count to ten, I said, VERY sweetly, "Oh my darling, let's get your PJs on and then we will cuddle all you like!"

"I want to cuddle RIGHT NOW!"

"PJs first, cuddle after," I said, wondering why I had made that stupid stipulation. Now I had to stick to it or be disobeyed forever because my kids will never trust that I mean what I say if I back down one iota from "PJs first, cuddle after."  Why do we put that kind of pressure on ourselves as parents? Jesus.

Well. She started to cry and asked me again, probably for the 58th time since we split up, why don't I love Daddy anymore?

"I do love Daddy, darling, I always will. But it's complicated and sometimes grownups just can't be married anymore."

"Daddy says you don't love him." OH FUCK. Now, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt here because Anna has been known, frequently, to say that I said things or he said things that were completely and totally untrue. So let's just say he didn't say that to her and move on.

I took that little morsel of human existence into my lap and she wrapped her arms and legs around me like a monkey and lay her damp face on my shoulder while I held her tight and stroked her hair. "I think you may have misunderstood Daddy. We will always love each other. But what's really important my girl is that I love YOU.  You are smart and special and you will always be my girl. I will always, always love you and be there for you when you need me." As I said that last part, I choked a little because the hardest part about this is that I'm NOT always there for her when she needs me. One of us is, she always has one parent available when she needs us, but sometimes you just need your mother. And there are days where I'm no where to be found, so essentially, I just lied to my baby. In that split second, I pictured her, 14 and hooked on crack because she was abandoned by her mother at the age of four and never learned how to form lasting bonds with people which led to a life of crime. Yes, that is where my head goes.

Anyway, she calmed down and I put her to bed and lay down beside her in that tiny toddler bed and sang I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane at her insistence. Fuck, that is a sad song to sing to the baby I have to leave behind.

Later, after Kate and I had spent some time watching this incredibly cute Minecraft vlogger (she admitted that half the reason she watches him is because he is so cute and the other reason is because he has pugs), Anna was crying out to me again. I went to her room, "Anna, Anna, my darling, my love, what's wrong now? You need to go to sleep and you've kicked off your covers," I said as I leaned down to tuck her back in.

"I had a hard day today mummy," God, they know how to break your heart, don't they? So back I went into that tiny toddler bed where she "made a spot" for me and I sang Mockingbird to her. Told her she was my girl, that she was my favourite and don't tell Kate. (don't worry, I told Kate the exact same thing moments earlier, they're both aware of my duplicity).

I have no words of wisdom about how to handle this hard time except to say that I express my deep love for her whenever I see her. There is no point in explaining why mummy and daddy don't live together. She doesn't understand, nor should she be burdened with those reasons at her age. Maybe one day, if she is still interested, I will try to explain it to her. Right now,  I concentrate on developing our bond into something meaningful and unbreakable with the hope that it will be strong enough to keep her from losing her mind as a teenager and becoming a prostitute for drugs.

The Daily Chai Has Been Disappointed

Today's Chai Latte is having an existential crisis and decided not to make an appearance just to prove a point.










I bought these boots a couple years ago, not exactly sure when, but since I paid nearly $200 for them I expected them to LAST THE REST OF MY LIFE. Clearly I was mistaken to put so much faith in footwear. In true Canadian fashion, I have written a very strongly-worded email to Sorel, demanding they remedy this despicable situation. I will be sure to update you on the story of my boots, as I'm sure you are all dying to hear about it.

In other news, the weather sucks. Oh, my apologies, YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT. Can we, for the love of god, please talk about something besides the weather? How 'bout those Red Sox? Did you hear about this?

I would also like to point out that my most popular post to date is The Daily Chai is Hungover which makes you all guilty of schadenfreude. Since this is quite possibly one of my favourite expressions ever, I'd like to say that I love each and every one of you who read the post. You must be good shits. Also, you men really need to take the fucking kids out of the house. Possibly more often than once a week. Why are you still here? GO, GO NOW!

In all seriousness, I truly appreciate all those who have reached out to tell me they are enjoying my blog or just to say hi and see how I'm doing. I know I've written about some pretty heavy things in the past week, but I want you all to know that I really am doing just fine! I have my ups and downs, my good days and bad days, but overall, I'm happy. I'm moving forward with my life in the best way I know how, taking care of my kids and taking care of me. I'm not always going to make the right choices and already I've done some pretty dumb shit, but at least they are my choices. What makes me even happier is the connection I've made with the number of you who have said my words described exactly how you felt about a certain situation. We are not alone. Carry on.

The Daily Chai and Kids of Divorce, Part 1

Today's grande Chai Latte came with the apocalyptic warning that they were running out of the chai mix and I might not be able to get my latte tomorrow. I better enjoy this one like it's the last one I will ever have. It's damn good too so at least I will have good memories. 

People ask me all the time, "How are the kids?" when I tell them my ex and I have separated. It's a tough question because I'd like to say they are awesome and resilient, but I can't see inside their heads. I don't REALLY know how they feel about this or how much they're holding inside. I told them both from the beginning that they can talk to me anytime about anything and it was okay to be sad. I thought that was important because we're always telling our kids, don't cry, it's okay, here's a cookie, but don't cry. Don't negatively express yourself, don't express anger or hurt or sadness, be happy and for the love of god, don't cry.

Well, fuck. This sucks, they SHOULD cry if they want to, this is possibly the shittiest thing that will ever happen to them. I know when my dad left, I thought my life was over. Everything changed. The circumstances of my separation are very different from my parents, but the effect is the same. Split houses, not seeing each parent every day. Not being a family in the sense that you have always understood family. So, my dear girls, cry if you need to because this sucks. Lord knows I've cried rivers since I made this decision.

I hope my girls feel they can talk to me when they're sad. The problem comes when they don't talk to me and they hold it in, for whatever reason. Maybe they don't want to make me feel bad, maybe they just can't express the reasons for their unhappiness. Maybe they are just tired of talking about it. Fuck, sometimes I feel like if I have to talk about it anymore, I might go crazy. Other times I can't stop talking about it. And the thing is, I can't force them to express every emotion they are having, no matter how badly I want to know what is going on inside their heads. However, there is one story about Kate that I can relate here that makes me think she's doing okay.

She was freaking out on me because she didn't want to have a bath. And I'm not talking refusal to have a bath, I'm talking full out hysterics because I told her she needed to wash her hair during her bath. We got into a screaming match about it and I had to leave the room because we were going nowhere and the mom guilt about yelling at her was settling in. Plus, I was losing my shit just a tiny bit too much over the bath war and I needed to back off. When I came back, she was in the bath, but hiccoughing and crying like a crazy girl. I knew there was more to this than a bath and thought it was maybe more about this being my last night before I handed the reins over to my ex for the week. I didn't want to make that suggestion though because I needed to hear it from her. For all I knew, she was upset because she'd had a fight with her best friend, or a boy had teased her or the teacher got mad at her. The minute I suggest it's about our family, she'd latch on to that and I'd be left wondering if that was really the problem.

After her bath, she was still crying a bit and I asked her again, "What is this really about? I know you don't like your bath, but for god's sake, you have one every other night, why is this a constant battle? I think there's more to this than you're telling me, but you gotta say it to me, you gotta tell me yourself what's up."

"I don't like baths and I don't like when you yell at me and I don't like...that...you and daddy aren't together anymore," the last word ending with a howl of anguish. My heart, hardened by the ridiculousness over the bath war, melted into a puddle and I gathered my girl up in my arms while she sobbed about us breaking up. Finally she started to talk and she said, "We won't go to the park together anymore, we won't go swimming or skating together as a family and we..won't....go to DISNEYLAND EVER." Thank fuck that kid has her priorities straight. I stroked her hair and I told her to talk and to cry and to be sad, that it was okay to be sad about this shitty thing that had happened. But then I thought, she needs to understand something...something vital about what is happening here.

"Kate, you need to listen to me. I know you are sad that we won't do stuff the four of us and that's true. There are things like dinner and stuff that we won't do as a family anymore, but I want you to really think about this. When have we ever really done anything the four of us? I'm the one that takes you to the park, I'm the one that goes skating with you, I'm the one that takes you swimming and shopping and to the movies. We've been the three musketeers since Anna was born and mummy and daddy splitting up isn't going to change that. I'm still going to do those things with you. The best part is, daddy is going to do those things with you now too. So now you have two parents that are going to take you places and play with you and do different things so that you get to have all sorts of fun and spend time with each of us."

It was like a lightbulb went off over Kate's head. Truly. She stopped crying and nodded her head. I could practically see the realization spreading across her face. Ever since then, she's been happy and looking forward to the future, looking forward to moving to a new house and starting at a new school. Don't get me wrong, not all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. She still has her moments of doubt and sadness, but they don't last long and she carries on. As we all do. The best part is my ex told me tonight that he had them out tobogganing yesterday, so I know I spoke the truth to her that night.

The Daily Chai and How I Broke my Face

Today's grande Chai Latte came with a debate about whether Starbucks' pretentious size names are Italian or Spanish. I'm going with Italian and therefore ordered my grande with an Italian accent just for shits and giggles. The chai itself was foamy and hot and delicious. Well worth the $4.80. Crap, as I wrote that I thought, "No hot drink is worth almost five dollars." And yet...I will continue to purchase them because clearly I have no willpower.

2014 was a shit year. Many good things happened but it was the year I broke my foot, broke my face and topped it off by breaking my marriage. So you can probably understand why I was happy to say goodbye to 2014 and welcome 2015 with open arms.

Monday of the May 24th weekend: I've just had one of those weekends with the kids. Lovely little human beings that want what they want when they want it and to hell with everyone else's needs. They get along pretty well, but they'd been bickering and screaming for pretty much 48 hours. On Monday morning, after listening to Kate shriek at Anna about touching her stuff and Anna crying that Kate is so mean, I looked at my husband, wild-eyed and said, "Take these tiny monsters out of this house. I don't care what you do with them but I am this close to a homicidal rage here. Can you hear how my voice is getting high and squeaky? I don't like my voice like this. I need a few hours to bring it down an octave or two. I want to paint my nails, watch Grey's Anatomy and go for a bike ride. I need time to myself for five minutes." Perhaps sensing total  annihilation, he obliged quite quickly.  There were some protests from those sweet angels as they realized they were leaving the house and MOMMY WAS STAYING BEHIND but daddy was adamant that they need to leave RIGHT NOW. Go go go go

The next hour was spent happily in bed watching the BEST GREY'S SEASON FINALE EVER (Meredith and Christina say good bye and drink tequila and dance *sob*) and painting my nails, while happily anticipating my first bike ride of the season. 

Many of you might remember how much I love biking. It started in Germany with  the lovely, paved bike/walking trails all over the countryside. Great way to get in shape and explore the surrounding land. When I moved back to Canada, I didn't have as many chances to bike, working full time and going to school and now with two littles running around. However, this was the first really great day we'd had since my broken foot had healed so I was taking advantage. 

Everything started off well, the sun was shining and the roads were clear. I was at kilometre 18 and feeling pretty good about myself as I was coming down the highway just outside my town. It's a busy road with a gravel shoulder and I was trying to stay as close to the shoulder as possible so I didn't get creamed by a passing car. Suddenly my front wheel skidded off the road and started to shimmy along the lip of the pavement and the gravel. It started to wobble wildly and then suddenly turned sharply at a right angle. Since I was going downhill and probably doing about 25 km/h, you can imagine that my velocity pretty much took over...my bike had suddenly stopped, but my body did not. I went head first over the handlebars and for a split second I watched helplessly as the ground rushed up to my face and I knew it would be smashing into me in a second.  The peak of my helmet hit the gravel shoulder first, somewhat breaking my fall, but then my face skidded along the gravel, smashing my nose and cutting my lip open. My pelvis hit the handle bars and my right hand was crushed under them when I landed. My right knee took a bad hit too and I ended up with some nasty road rash that has left two large scars. I have no idea how long I lay there, but I got shakily to my feet and looked on the ground for my teeth, which I was convinced I had broken. Blood was dripping from my face but I didn't know from where, my nose? My teeth? Turns out it was from the split lip. My teeth, while the enamel was somewhat cracked, were miraculously unbroken. My nose, ditto. 

The first person to stop was, wonders never cease, a doctor. He asked me if I knew my name and where I lived and said he was going to examine my face. My mouth was filling with blood as he lifted my chin and I reactively spit to rid myself of the taste. Of course, I spit blood all over this wonderful person who was trying to help me and I immediately started to shake and cry and apologize.   He was very kind and said I was going into shock and it was okay, he'd been bled on before. Suddenly this wild looking woman skids to a stop on the other side of the road and comes running over to see if I need help. 

"Are you okay?" 

Now, you might think my first reaction would be "No, I'm not fucking okay! I'm bleeding from various abrasions and I think my hand and nose are broken. Other than that, I'm fucking fabulous."

Well, you would be wrong. My first reaction, not wanting to cause anyone trouble was to say, "Yeah, I'm okay, I just need to get home and get some bandaids. No trouble."

Thank fuck my humbleness got hit on the head with some good sense because I finally replied with:

"No, no I don't think I am. I need a ride home. And a hospital possibly. And oh my god, I'm bleeding so much and I can't find my phone but I can hear the music playing!" Because, you know, the whereabouts of my phone while I'm bleeding from numerous body parts is top priority. As is wasting the battery playing music I was no longer listening to. 

Suddenly I heard a soft voice to my right tell me I was going into shock and to breathe and could she help me, "I'm a doctor."

"Well, holy shit, it's doctor day in the 86 because this fellow here is a doctor too! Fantastic!" 

Clearly I'm getting a little delirious in the retellling of this story. Anyway, the first doctor took my bike home, the wild-haired crazy lady took me home and the second doctor left, seeing I was in good hands. The wild-haired crazy lady told me she and her passenger were out looking for corn (in May...yeah, my thoughts exactly) and just look what they found. Me! Bleeding and crying at the side of the road! Lucky them. Her passenger looked to be about 96 and quite decrepit. 

However, it was she that had to help me hobble up the sidewalk to my front porch because my knee was beginning to seize up and the shock was wearing off into extreme pain all over my body. My kids came tearing around the front to see what the commotion was all about and both started to cry when they saw mommy bleeding and crying and limping to the front porch. Anna is still traumatized by the incident. Just the other day she said to me, "You came home and you were bleeding and I didn't like that. You went to the hospital and you came home and you were still bleeding. I didn't like that either."

A trip to hospital showed nothing was actually broken and I didn't even need stitches to the hamburger that my lip had become. Nine months later and I have several scars but no lasting damage and even though my dentist suggested plastic surgery for my face, I've healed well enough that is wasn't needed. Thank fuck.  Who has money for plastic surgery?

Three weeks later I joined the gym. No more outdoor exercise for me. And I haven't ridden my bike since. PTSD. I keep picturing the ground rushing up to smash into my face. 

The Daily Chai is Hungover

Today's Chai is still at Starbucks and I'm lying in bed hoping it will magically appear at my bedside. No such luck.

Last night was a trip. Managed to drink enough wine that I got to see what it looks like coming up the other way. My buddy said, "Note for next time, stop about halfway through the big bottle instead of drinking the whole thing."  My reply, "Ha! Maybe I should stop halfway through a small bottle. That would be even better." Anyway, it's been a month or two since I indulged and I came out relatively unscathed. A little hungover but basically all in one piece. The last time I almost broke my nose when I tripped over my own winter boots and face planted in the icy snowbank. Nose bled for an hour and I cried to my bestie for longer because...oh, for so many reasons. Questioning my choices, worried about my kids, wishing things were different. I was in shock because the ground rushing at my face was reminiscent of my bike accident in May when I broke various parts of my body, including my face, which I'm rather fond of, so the experience was traumatic. 

My girlfriend came by around 7 and we got right into it. She's more of a friend of a friend, but it was a good time and we had lots to talk about. Seems to be an epidemic of men who don't take their parenting responsibilities seriously. Men...take heed! It's easy to let you wife do it all because she will naturally take on each new task, feeling like it's her duty. But just because she does all those things with the kids, doesn't mean she's happy about it and you can sit around playing video games with your hand in your pants. A word of advice (I might still be married if I'd insisted on this): take your kid(s) completely out of the house for a couple hours EVERY week. I know, you might be thinking that is just a crazy fucking thing to suggest, but trust me.  I don't give a shit if you just drive around with them, take them to the park, the mall, to work, I really don't care, but get them and yourself out of there. This serves two purposes. 1) the obvious one is it gives your wife a pause in her busy life so she doesn't go on a psychotic break and drown all of you in the tub one day and 2) you will get to experience HOW MUCH FUN it is to wrangle one or more children in an uncontrolled environment like the mall. I liken it to herding cats with a string. And maybe, just fucking maybe, you will realize that hauling those kids around everywhere, all the time, isn't, like, oh my god, such a fun job!! It's stressful and people judge you in public if you aren't the perfect parent and your kids CONSTANTLY ask you to buy them things and you have to say no all the time and then you say yes and your mother looks at you and says, "You spoil those kids!" Even though you said no five hundred previous times and just had a tiny weak moment. Or you are at the pool and one kid is hanging off you like a koala bear the other one is shouting, "Look at me mom, mum, mum,  MOTHER! Look at what I can do!" EVERY FIFTEEN SECONDS. If men experienced that constant pulling in every direction for even a couple hours a week, they would be more sympathetic to their wives. 

So yes, in my humble opinion, marriages everywhere could be saved if men would just take their kids out of the house once a week. Oh. And without fucking being asked to do so. A little voluntary action on your part would be the bomb.  Pretty simple eh?

Anyway, last night I had a surprise visitor from my way back past which was amazing. Funny how 15-20 years can pass and you are still buddies the way you always were, no matter how life has changed you. And he's still the same good guy I always knew, tucking me in on the couch when I passed out! I wonder how many times he's had to do that? Not much has changed! Still sitting on the same couches in my mother's house, shooting the shit about fights and tattoos and our ridiculous mutual friends who have not changed either. The only difference was my mom wasn't there smoking with us and we had to go outside to smoke. Good times. 

The Daily Chai and Queen of the Land of Passive Aggressivia

I haven't left the house today so I don't have a Chai latte to tell you about. Sad. Anyone want to help a girl out?

Someone pointed out to me yesterday that my blog posts are a passive aggressive way to communicate via electronic media. To that I say, yes indeedy! Sorry about that. But I like to write and I haven't for a long time. My need for expression these days has been coming out in unhealthy ways and my hope is that my posts will balance me and give me an outlet to be healthier in my everyday life. I can't guarantee they will always be entertaining, but I do so like to make you laugh, so I hope during my rants, my nonsense and my general batshit crazy girl outpourings that you occasionally chuckle and don't take anything too personally. My opinions are my own and they are based on stories I hear from people and my own experiences. If you think I'm talking about you...I might be, but I'll never tell. If something rings true to you that just means I've done my job and connected with you in this harsh, cruel world. Not a bad thing, when you think about it.

I have a whole, glorious weekend to myself in which I have not made any plans except to get drunk tonight with my friend. For a girl who is constantly moving and planning, I find this refreshing. The downside is that I don't have anything funny to write about. Maybe tomorrow, in my hangover haze, I will have some stories to tell ;)

The Daily Chai and People Who Suck at Texting

Today's grande Chai Latte is a little too hot and my tongue was scalded with the first sip. There is also too much milk compared to chai favouring. Where is my personal barista who knows how I like it when I need her? 

Don't mind me, I'm trying to invoke the spoiled, rich girl persona of a latte drinker. Sadly, I don't really have a personal barista

Clearly I did not properly heed this warning:

So...people suck at texting. Not everyone. Some people are awesome and I have whole friendships carried out through texting conversations. Which sounds sad, but in today's busy world, it's a good way to stay in touch.  Sometimes a quick text to ask a question or say "Hey, I'm thinking of you" is more manageable than an entire phone conversation. I get that. I do it all the time. I love that I can tell someone I care about that they've been on my mind with one quick text. No strings attached, no reply needed. I also appreciate getting those texts. And I appreciate the people who understand that I do not have time right this second to talk on the phone because I'm driving (I'm ALWAYS FUCKING DRIVING these days) or because Anna is asking me about her poo and Kate wants a snack.   

However, not every conversation can be carried on over text, especially when people leave conversations for days on end with no explanation. Don't misunderstand me, some texts just do not need a response and that's fine. Or you just haven't had time to even read the text, let alone form a proper response, also fine. We are all busy and we all have those days where we just want to crawl into bed and ignore the world and sleep for a week.  But when you are in the middle of a conversation and you decide you're done, a simple "I don't want to talk about this anymore, let's talk tomorrow" would work. Total radio silence in the middle of a conversation with no explanation drives me absolutely insane. It's rude. It's like hanging up on someone. Remember being so fucking furious with your boyfriend that you hung up on him? Remember how pissed off it made him? Same fucking thing. So if your intention is to piss people off, go for it, ignore that text. 

If you are bad at texting, I've included a few examples of conversations that should not be carried on over text: matters of the heart, announcing someone's death, breaking up, firing someone or letting someone know you just got married. 

So here is a brilliant concept to avoid those texting faux pas...make a phone call. I do not really like talking on the phone anymore. Which is weird when I remember the hours I used to spend talking to my 300 very best friends in the entire world. But some conversations just deserve a phone call. I'm guilty of this as well...don't worry, I'm lambasting myself as heavily as all the rest of you sinners. 

My bestie and I talk on an almost daily basis via text but it works for us because we work together and get face time occasionally at work. And we make plans to see each other as often as our busy schedules allow. But our friendship grew and blossomed because we are awesome at texting each other. It's a great way to share ideas and get to know each other, but if you don't have that essential, intuitive understanding between you, you're not going to "get" each other over text either. Plus, like I said, as much as I love those silly text convos to catch up with each other, we wouldn't be as close if we didn't see each other in person. I love her face and her laugh, she is my sister and my best friend. Text cannot convey those things. 

I recently went out for a beer with a good friend and she shook her head when I told her about some of my texting complaints and the complaints I've heard from others. Her response was, "The next relationship I have, I will make it a rule that there will be no texting." I'm not sure I myself could abide by that rule, but maybe there needs to be a "one phone call a day" rule to your significant other. Just to touch base. To hear their voice. Because honestly...if you don't want to talk to them, maybe that is a warning that you don't want to be with them either. 

The Daily Chai and the Power of Dance

Today's grande Chai Latte is perfect. Spicy, not too milky, hot and delicious. The only thing that would make it better would be an inutile bacon wrapped Canadian maple donut, but I have a feeling that is a whole different blog post. 

Feeling nostalgic and to soothe my soul last night, I downloaded Pink Flyod's The Wall (remastered for iTunes!). When I was a teenager, I would play the CD on repeat every night to fall asleep. I realized last night that I must have been more crazy as a teenager because as the strident chords of Goodbye Cruel World came out of my phone, I thought, I will never fall asleep to this. I remember this being much more peaceful and calming. Maybe I just played Comfortably Numb on repeat? However, the brain works in mysterious ways and suddenly it was 2:00 a.m. and Pink was lamenting about Vera Lynn and wondering what had become of her. I sat bolt upright in bed, rummaged like a drunken sophomore for my phone on my bedside table and turned the music off. Enough Pink Floyd for one night. Dammit, I just realized I had it on shuffle. I think most people will agree that you can't listen to the epic story of The Wall on shuffle. Just isn't done. 

The girls and I like to listen to music in the morning at breakfast and dance or sing (loudly and tunelessly) along. I don't play kids' music though, it's usually top forty type of stuff (they are currently crazy for Taylor Swift's Blank Space). Today, for a change of pace, I quietly put The Wall back on and hummed along while I made sandwiches for lunch. Anna came over to to me with her arms in the air, did a spin and asked me if that was ballet. 

"Yes, pretty much. You got it sister." (I can hear the dancers howling with indignation). 

Says Kate, "Not really Anna. Here, I'll show you. Mom, does she die at the end of Swan Lake or does she just fall asleep?"

"She dies."

"Oh. Ok. So Anna, we're going to pretend she goes to sleep because it's inappropriate for you to pretend to be dead. So. You come out on the stage on your tiptoes with you hands over your head, spin three times and then fall gently to the floor, asleep. That's the entire play, okay? Let's practice. "

And practice they did. To the completely inappropriate, but classic Run Like Hell. 

The Daily Chai and Dealing with Disappointment

Today's grande chai latte tasted pretty good but sadly was not hot enough so I drank it in about five seconds which meant all the foam got left over and had to be eaten like whipped cream with a spoon. Fortunately, I like whipped cream so today was a good chai day. I liked it a latte. Did you see what I did there?

On to philosophical matters. I wrote recently that I've come to a crossroads. I took the left pathway and it's been a bit rocky. I've debated how much of this I can write about here as I have funny ideas about publishing deeply personal stories. On the other hand, a blog is just that, a public diary of sorts where others might find comfort in identifying with my struggles or laughing at my embarrassing mishaps. 

So here goes: four months ago, after months and possibly years of inner turmoil and debate, I decided I had to end my marriage. It wasn't a decision I came to lightly, but once it was made, I couldn't turn back. It was like trying to believe in Santa Claus again, once you know the big man doesn't exist, you can't retrieve that wonderment back into your soul. I wasn't in love with my husband anymore and we were both deeply unhappy with our lives, both together and as individuals. There is a lot of resentment and bitterness on my side that I work on every day to resolve. It's hard to be with someone for that long and not have those negative feelings build up when you are both shitty at communicating. Most of the time I was suffocating with words unsaid and I felt like I was drowning. You tell yourself that this is life, that this is marriage and it has its ups and downs. No one is perfect and as many beefs as I had with my partner, I know he had the same amount with me. So you let things go, you soldier on, you hope things will get better, you have good days together and you tell yourself that bad patch is finally past. Until the next time you are up all night crying and wishing for the strength to say you want a divorce. The thing is with those white nights, everything looks better in the morning. So you soldier on. You make school lunches, you help with homework, you count the minutes to bedtime, you look for the positive and suppress the negative. You compartmentalize until all the bad feelings are safely put away in the file folders of your brain, marked "Do not read." You tell yourself whatever you need to tell yourself to keep going. 

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but caring for the man I shared 17 years of my life with, who I created the loveliest human beings with. I don't look at our marriage ending as a failure but as a journey that has come to an end. It's a sad end and there have been many tears in both sides about it, but what's the use of hanging on to something that no longer makes you happy? That, in fact, makes you unhappy? I look at the future as a bright possibility where we can both have the chance to begin something good, healthy and whole. Someone once told me that the easiest path isn't always the best one and that the harder the path, the better the rewards. That all this will be worthwhile. I hold on to that thought every day. And I soldier on. 

The Daily Chai and Sex Ed

Today's chai latte was a grande and there was a little too much milk compared to the chai but the temperature was perfect. Hot, milky chai just scalding my mouth and throat a wee bit as I sucked that puppy back. 

So now that you know how my chai was I'm going to rant about people who don't want sexual education in the classroom. Sex is just another word for reproduction which is what the human body was built to do (if you choose to use your body to reproduce). The human body was also built with a heart that makes your blood flow, muscles that make you move, eyes that make you see and ears that make you listen. These are all natural functions of the human body, just like sex. There is nothing wrong with teaching children how the human body works, in fact, understanding your body and how it works is essential for a healthy, long life. That includes understanding sex and how sex can affect your health, both mental and physical. 

The changes children endure during puberty are also natural functions of the human body but they can be scary and unnerving if you don't understand what's happening. Some parents just can't talk to their kids about it and I get that. I freaked out a little when my oldest started growing boobs at the age of seven. And, when I told her how babies were made not that long ago (she is 8, for the record, and knew babies grow in mummy's uterus, but how the baby got in there was still a mystery until one fine day...) it was a pretty squirmy and uncomfortable conversation on both sides, I'm not going to lie.  But now she knows and can ask me questions about it. It's up to me to help her get through the emotions and confusion she might feel when she starts going down that path. And I'll tell you, as much as I'd like to take a shotgun to the first guy that touches her, she WILL go down that path one day. Am I going to send her along with no knowledge and watch her crash and burn? No, I'm going to educate her to help her make good choices when she walks it. 

Let's be clear. Teaching children about puberty and sex is not a gateway to promiscuity. I can guarantee you, without even looking at the curriculum, that teachers aren't going to be giving your children tips on how to pick up at the local nightclub. They will be teaching them how their natural bodies function and what to expect over the next several years from puberty. 

Some of you might say, "But wait! They are too young for this knowledge!" Sad to say, studies show that girls are developing breasts and getting their periods much sooner than when we were young. Someone I know recently told me her daughter's classmate got her period at the age of seven. Was she too young to get her period for the first time? Probably, but if she'd been taught at school at the age of six that this is how the human body works and why, she would have been better prepared to deal with it. 

So my point is this, if you are uncomfortable with sex ed in the classroom, get over it and accept that this is a natural process that we all need to know about. Talk to your kids openly and honestly about sex. The classroom is going to teach them the mechanics of all this stuff but it's up to you to prepare them for the emotion that comes with sex. Do you want your son to sleep around, breaking hearts? Do you want your daughter to "give it up" to a boy that tells her she's pretty? Probably not. You know yourself the complexity of a sexual relationship, educate your kids so they are ready to take that on and deal with it with brave and kind hearts. The classroom is only going to tell them how it works, it's up to you to give your child the emotional support to make good choices. 

The Daily Chai and the Beginning of Something Profound

Today's Chai Latte was a grande. It was the perfect temperature so that I was able to drink it in normal gulps instead of baby sips that burn my tongue. The chai to milk ratio was also perfect. All in all, a good chai day. 

Having reported my daily chai, here is my philosophical thought for the day. 

Contrary to popular belief, the most dangerous animal in the world is not the lion, the tiger or even the elephant, but rather a shark, riding on an elephant's back just trampling and eating everything they see. 

Crap. That was One of Jack Handy's Deep Thoughts. Better luck tomorrow.