Four Weddings and a Funeral

happy facehappy facehappy face happy facesad face

I got through four big events for my daughter this week.

1)  I sat at her awards night with her grandmother and her dad.  Grandma was happy to be the buffer between him and me and it worked well.  He thanked me for being civil — something I haven’t been since the very beginning — before all the rage and ill will set in.  And thank you Ativan.

2)  That made both of us taking pre-prom pictures at the same event better.  He always goes with humor, but it upsets me.  There’s nothing going on in my life I think calls for flippancy, which is what his humor seems like to me.  He went with humor anyway, and I tried not to be outwardly vicious.  My daughter, her friends, and her date were adorable.  It made her happy to see us cordial.  And thank you Ativan.

3)  Our son was the buffer at graduation.  I couldn’t help conducting an experiment I had been cooking up for several months since my daughter got a tattoo, which upset her dad.  I put a few small, black, stick-on star tattoos around my ankle to see if he would notice.  After graduation he said to me, “Did you get your tattoos at the same time she did?”  I just said no.  To cap off this very childish expression of independence, I said in my head, “Ne ner ne ner ne ner…made you look!”  And thank you Ativan.

4)  I threw a graduation brunch to really thank my friends for being so supportive.  My daughter’s boyfriend and family were there and a few other kids, but the guests were mostly my friends.  My daughter was gracious and engaging with them — something she sometimes has a hard time making herself do.  I invited some friends of hers and mine that we have been on the outs with as an olive branch and they all came!  No need to take or thank Ativan for that event.

5)  After everyone went home and I was doing dishes, my sink backed up.  This is one of its worst pranks, and it pulls it at the most inopportune times.  When the kids’ dad came to take them for a Father’s Day movie, I went outside where he was waiting for them and told him, and he came in to check it out.  The last time it happened, my husband had just had a heart attack.  He asked me if I put vegetables down the disposal and I said yes, I thought I had done it slowly enough, but I was wrong.  He pulled out one of his classic disapproving looks from our marriage. I had not relied on Ativan that day and I was caught with my pants down.  But I’m glad to report that I didn’t melt down, and after all the positive strides I made this week for my daughter’s sake, and my own, the sink and my estranged husband can go suck it with their stupid funeral after my four weddings.  And I didn’t even say that out loud!

Moving on…

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