The Aftermath

The party was not nearly as bad as I had anticipated it to be.

It went off without a hitch, and other than me jabbing one of the girls in the eye accidentally, there were no tears! Everyone loved the cakes and mini PB & J sandwiches. We read a story and since CJ was feeling neglected, we decided to play a game of "decorate CJ with all the streamers". He didn't feel so neglected anymore.

Diva got lots of really cool stuff and my mom and dad were both there and there was no awkwardness whatsoever.

Which pisses me off.

I hate how easily we've fallen into this separated feeling. I hate how "my parents are divorced" can roll off my tongue as easily as my name. I hate that there's no feeling of awkwardness. How we can all just sit there like this is the most normal thing in the world.

But most of all, I hate how this has effected my relationship with my mom. We used to be very close, but now she's just. . .different. Maybe it's because she now lives in a town that is 30 miles away, so I can't just go drop in whenever I feel like it. We used to talk practically every single day. Now it's a good week if we talk twice. One of those times is usually an email.

I hate that my dad is still hurting and my mom is too stubborn to admit that she's hurting too.

I hate that I have a knot in my stomach every time my kids speak to my mom and dad for fear they are going to say something that will inadvertently hurt the grown ups.

And I hate that I feel like *I* am the most grown up of them all.

But that is all how I feel today, right now. Tonight, we'll all be together again and it will feel completely normal--again. And I can hope and pray that maybe someday Glamour Mom won't be so damn stubborn and Glamour Dad will be happy again. That it won't hurt so bad.

Tonight is the Kiddie Parade. I sent Diva to daycare with curlers in her hair so that she can transform into Christine Daae. CJ has all his clothes in place for becoming The Phantom. All that's left to do is cut a hole in the boat so we can put it on the wagon, and buy some batteries for the GHETTO BLASTER (yes I still totally have a ghetto blaster) (no it's not the old school 5 foot long kind, but I still call it a ghetto blaster) to torture the likes of Podunk with some *gasp* CULTURE! How dare we show them all the beauty that is Phantom of the Opera? Cuz I'm already an outcast. And I do have a reputation to uphold. :)