Treasure These Moments

So last night I heard it. The dreaded 'I want to live with Daddy' phrase. Do divorced kids compare notes in a special class? Do they talk about how to bring their parents to their knees? How to make them lose their marbles and turn them into raving lunatics?

The first few weeks after my husband left, the kids and I were in the 'too shocked to yell at each other' phase. We got through each day putting one foot in front of the other. Days ended with the three of us curled up in a giant heap on the couch, my son laying next to me and my daughter draped over my knees. 'I get her crook,' my daughter would yell as we stumbled our way to the couch every night.

Well, the shock has now worn off. The days of treasuring every minute with the family left behind is OVER. Last night we went to an open house for a summer camp the kids will be attending. We went with my daughter's good friend and her mom. Oh this will be so much fun, optimistic me thought. The kids will swim and the moms will chat. Well it didn't take long for my fucking rose colored glasses to be shattered. The first crack in them appeared when my daughter's friend said that my daughter threw a rock at her during recess and hit her in the head. It left a bump but they made up! I slid a look at the mom in the passenger seat next to me and her face was frozen into a pained grimace. 'We don't throw rocks,' I said in my best my-kids-are-going-through-a-divorce-give-them-a-break voice. Then the fighting began. Seat up, seat back. My son began tormenting his sister in the back row. 'MOOOOOMMMM!'

I think I outran every police officer in a five town radius getting to the restaurant where we were going to eat. After we filled our faces, things will be better. Hahaha. Nope, the kids didn't have that on their plan of things to do that night. Commence round two of fighting.

Swimming in the pool will be fun! Can you believe I still had faith at this point? My daughter had an accident in her bathing suit just before she went in the pool. Her nervous stomach does not deal well with stress. One would think she would mention the accident to me before she entered water that other children might possibly swallow. But nope I had to notice the stain on the back of her suit walking out of the dressing room. OH. MY. GOD. This was where I started to get an idea that the night wasn't going to be full of happy kids frolicking in the pool. No, the night was going to involve me dragging my protesting daughter into the bathroom and ripping off her bathing suit bottom and trying to inconspicuously rinse it out in the sink. 'Nothing to see here, fellow swimmers. I am most certainly NOT rinsing out crap from the bathing suit which will soon be in the water in which your child will be swimming.' I thought about telling my daughter she couldn't go in the pool. And then I thought about the ensuing fit and the tears and me swearing in front of 50 children and their parents who probably didn't just wash shit down the drain of the sink while hunching over to hide it. Fuck it, she's going in the pool, I'm sure the chlorine will take care of the possible e-coli. And nobody drinks pool water anyway right? (I did wash her suit out thoroughly so I really am a concerned citizen.)

The kids got in the pool and paddled around and I may have said a few words to the other mom but I was a little distracted by watching my daughter and mentally keeping her bowels in check. (Just like having to think about keeping the plane aloft when you're flying but this has less possibility of dropping you to your death.)

Finally my daughter clung to the side of the pool and gave me the look. 'Get me out of here, I might have another accident.' I rushed over to the pool and wrapped the towel around her, 'Oh, you're cold, let's get you out of here,' the liar in me said. The kids got out of the pool and changed. Fighting with each other, fighting with their friend. But it's almost over! We're walking out of the building and pass by water fountains. The kids stop for a drink. There are two fountains and three kids. Should it really take five fucking minutes? Finally my patience or what little I had left snapped, "Let's go,' I hollered. 'I need a drink,' my daughter screamed. 'Let's go,' I yelled, 'we need to get home. You're tired (and Mommy needs a fucking drink).' The other mom is hurriedly walking away. I think she had enough fun for the night as well.

'If Daddy was here he'd let me have a drink. You hate me! I want to live with Daddy!', my daughter screamed. For a split second I wanted to scream 'Dad has seen you 25 hours in two months. I bet I can guess what his answer would be but let's call him!' But I didn't say it. I didn't want to break her heart. Ha right, I didn't want the other parents to call welfare services. Thank GOD there were other people around who would act as witnesses to my worst divorcing mom moment. I kept my mouth shut.

We walked back to the car with my daughter complaining about how thirsty she was. The drink from the restaurant in the car wasn't wet enough for her.

This weekend my husband takes the kids for their first overnight. 'How will I handle it?', I whined to myself a few days ago. Well now I might not even stop the car completely when I drop them off. I hope they fight the whole time they are there and my daughter has diarrhea 87 times on my husband's watch. Yup I'm a vengeful bitch, just living up to my reputation in my husband's eyes. I'm going to hang with my best friend over the weekend, shop, drink some fruity alcoholic concoctions. I'm going to walk into my kids' rooms and sit on their beds and picture my husband washing shitty things out in his sink and I'm going to laugh and laugh and then I'm going to go sit in front of the TV and watch Breaking Dawn Part II. I still believe in love. Vampire love.

Thank you my beloved children for acting as you did. You made things a little easier on me. Maybe it's an instinct they have to help their parents deal with impending separations. Very similar to teenagers, I'm sure, who try every patient bone in their parents' bodies, making it a little less tear-worthy to drop them off at that dorm where you hope if they learn one thing in college, it's that they actually don't know everything.