She comes home tomorrow

And I can't wait.

She'll be earlier than planned unless the XH can find the missing bottle of meds.  I'm not entirely sure where it's gone, but an epileptic w/o meds is not good.   And, I was not available for him to come over and get the extras...laundry attire when one is home alone is not always appropriate for public view. : )

Joy to the world

Merry Christmas dear readers...you are out there, right?

As I write this, the rain is pouring down, and we're under a severe weather threat.  The metaphor is too good to pass up.

You see, my XH and I had the very real potential to come to thermonuclear blows this morning.  The Demie Diva has had enough of time without her Mama.  She made that abundantly clear on the phone last night.  She wants to come home.  Now.   Said sentiment was communicated to the XH, who basically announced that that was too bad, she was with him till Thursday.

I went to church last night ready to commit emasculation at a minimum.  The Demie Diva's favorite sitter was ready to bail me out.

Fortunately, this morning, she got lots of Mommy time.  I got to the XH's place about 6:30, and stretched out in his recliner to nap.  The favorite brother rolled out at about 7, and he and I agreed that it was absurd to be up BEFORE the kid whose Santa presents were under the tree!  Still and all, there was something rather sweet about sitting with this man-child who, at 18, is twice the age he was when I met his dad.  With adulthood may come something close to friendship, as he sees more than he lets on, and adores the sister who adores me.

With little feet hitting the floor and cries of "MOMMY", my world was once again complete.  Her stocking was full, full, full, and her pink scooter was perfect.  She tore into her presents with the glee of a five year old who'd had to wait forever.  Clothes from her dad.  Clothes.  Underwear.  And a dream lite for his house.  Apparently, now that she's gotten a bed at his house, she's supposed to have a dream lite just like the one that she no longer uses at ours.  eye roll 

Thank God I'd carried toys over to his house for her to unwrap - and that what was in her stocking was intended to be played with...you see, everything that should be in her bedroom at his house wasn't out of the boxes that they'd been packed in when he moved this summer.  That's right, friends, no toys out. No books.  NOTHING for a five year old to play with.  Seriously.

But, she asked Santa for two things - the scooter and a flashlight.  We played with the flashlight.  "Dr. Winkle" checked my eyes and ears and mouth.  Apparently, I had splitongueiliosis, and I needed to go to the children's room (The DD's room) and my mommy would leave me, and I'd be sad.  I told Dr. Winkle I had a daddy, so I'd be okay.  Her response..."You don't like dads."  Okay then.

The XH?

He just laughed.

She didn't want me to go - I didn't want to go.  I certainly wasn't afforded the courtesy of an invitation to dinner.  So, I will run into the office, print some papers to grade, and then...count the sleeps till my baby is home.

The most wonderful...

time of the year my foot.

Since last I wrote, my nanny quit, we've done two programs at two schools on the same night (17 miles apart), and sent the Demie Diva to her dad for the first time since...oh...LAST Christmas break!

She is sooo excited for Christmas.  When the first presents appeared under the tree, she was beside herself.  Then, the next ones showed up.  In true Demie Diva fashion, she tried to convince me one morning that she slept 10 sleeps so that she could open her presents right now.  We've frosted cookies, hired a new nanny, and made it to break.

The Demie Diva didn't want to go visit her dad's family.  "I will be sad."  How do you argue with that, exactly?  You don't.  Validate, but remind that there is an uncle who adores her, and cousins who are soooo much fun and have...INSTRUMENTS.    My heart broke when I called last night.  They were still on the road, and she told me that she wanted to come home tomorrow.  The ache in her voice was palpable, and I didn't sleep last night.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm an introvert, and I need the break to recharge.  I am also a mother, first, last, and always...and this whole situation is royally messed up.  I know it hurts and confuses her that her dad doesn't have time for her.  She didn't tell her teachers about going with dad - she focused on the fact that we're going to the Tundra after Christmas.  The Demie Diva made two candles - and chose that they both be for me.  She has no attachment to her dad.  He has no attachment to her, but by God he'll put on a show of superparent.

Maybe that's why I've been radio silent.  I want to post about the Garden of Light, and its beautiful symbolism.  I want to post about what an amazing angel she was in the church Christmas program.  I want to post about Sandy Hook, and life in a state where the Senators are out and out against an assault weapons ban.  Most of all, I want to share some of the Demie Diva's adventures in being 5, because, to be honest, she's a delight.

Instead, my gut is knotted with worry.  Worry about the damage I'll have to undo.  Worry about the length of time we'll be dealing with overnights before soccer season rears its ugly head and some pointed commentary on my part comes out.  Worry that I won't get another referral from a school up north, and that I'll be away from my family forever and ever.

Doesn't do me any good to worry about that which I cannot control, but it does help me plan for contingencies.  

I didn't sign up for this part of the deal.

Slacker, I know

I have been needled significantly over this one.

BUT...there's a good reason.

I've discovered doll-making.

Blame it on the Waldorf school.  I LOVE this place, BTW.

After much backing and forthing, I made the Demie Diva a doll.  It took forever.

It is sooo worth it.

There are all kinds of other reasons I've been busy, but mostly...this is it.

I'm considering opening an Etsy shop.  I realized that, as I watched people ooh and ahh, that I am actually something of an anachronism.  I put up produce in Ball Jars.  I embroider my own flower sack dish towels (doesn't everyone?)  And, apparently, I make a good doll.