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.