Today, the Girl stood in the middle of the kitchen and screamed at the top of her lungs, full of righteous indignation:
"QUIT YELLING AT MEEEEEEEE!!!!!"
Which was sort of funny seeing as how, you know, I wasn't yelling at the time.
A tip: Don't laugh at indignant 5-year-olds. Oh, the tears! The recrimination! It wasn't funny! Laughing at her IS. NOT. FUNNY!
Ah, but honey. It's the laughing at the not-funny stuff that gets you through life.
I would have tried to tell her that, but she was sort of busy threatening to poke me in the butt with her miniature American flag. I think there's some sort of message there, mayhaps?
Things are going. We're sifting through the business of death. The Boy punched a kid at school last week. The kids are taking ice skating lessons. I swear to God that I heard their father come in the house last week, in the middle of the day, while I was typing away on some job. I actually heard the door open, and I heard him call out "Hellooo?" in this funny way he used to do. I nearly answered, then I stopped, then I really stopped. Then I answered anyway. Nobody answered back.
I want to thank everyone who has sent us kindness--kind thoughts, kind words, kind deeds. It's odd to me that I started this stupid blog as a sort of self-motivating journal to get through some of the harshest emotions after my marriage fell apart. And now it's like I don't know what to say. Probably because I'm not sure what to think. Or, I am very purposefully not thinking. Except for when I've planted my arse on Dr. Zen's comfy chair. I think a bit then. Then I go sneak a cigarette and quit thinking for another week.
I guess that's okay, too.