Sunday, April 21, 2013

King Solomon vs. The Tasmanian Devil

I'm not sure where to begin. Yes. I deleted yesterday's post about an hour after I hit "publish." There were about 125 reasons why I did it. However, there were no less than 24 FB messages this morning from folks wondering if I was ok.

I don't think that I would have considered myself ok at that point. I've finally gotten my sea legs this afternoon and I'm at least in an upright position.

I'm not going to rehash the whole thing. (If you were one of the three or four folks that read the blog before it was deleted yesterday, wow). Here's sort of how it all went down.

Yesterday was the anniversary of the day Eric officially left. It's not that it's really a national holiday or anything but it's a date that I just won't forget.

After Eric had returned the girls to me last night, Annie decided to let me know that I wouldn't be her mama anymore after Eric's wedding and that Xxxx would be her new mom at that point. Dasha seconded the whole idea as if they had been schooled in this theory. I'm not exactly sure what the emotion was that I was feeling but it was not a warm, fuzzy, cotton candy sort of feeling. I tried to keep my emotions hidden from the girls and simply wanted to put them to bed and then collapse in tears. However, as I tucked them in late last night, Annie, once again, lobbed another grenade at me and told me that she would miss her bed when she moved to TX to live with her daddy after Christmas.

I haven't tried to confirm where the girls got these ideas (believe me, they are only ideas) because I sure couldn't have done so with any semblance of grace or wisdom. I would have sounded like the Tasmanian Devil trying to have a conversation while being restrained.

I got the girls to bed and then got a text from Grant saying he was at a karaoke place and wouldn't be home until late. He's 13. I don't know of any karaoke joints that don't double as bars. Do you? In fact, I don't think too many folks enjoy karaoke until they are quite inebriated. Maybe I'm wrong.

As I simmered and headed toward a full rolling boil, I tried to find some logic in the whole situation. I couldn't.

I really did try calming myself down. I tried to watch TV but that didn't help. Then, I started looking back through my devotional. I ran across a lesson based on the account of King Solomon trying to settle a fight between two mothers about who a baby belonged to. Solomon eventually called for someone to slice the baby in half so both mothers could have a piece of him. The real mother screamed out to let the other lady have the baby in order to save her child's life. Of course, Solomon knew, at that point, who the baby belonged to. I feel like I'm standing before King Solomon with all three kids standing in the middle but I can't just hand them over to Eric (or Xxxx). Maybe that wasn't the best Bible story that I could have focused on but... that's where I landed.

See why I deleted the post? By the time I'd finished writing last night's blog, I was at a full boil and it just wasn't pretty. I'm still in a quandary about what to do next. I know I need to confront him about lots of things that went on but, what good is it going to do? Arguing about what's appropriate and inappropriate isn't going to change the events that took place. Blah. However, as you all know, absolutely NO ONE screws with my babies' hearts.

Can I just say, once again, that this is reason number 1,043 why marriage isn't supposed to end like this?

Good night, all.

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