Thursday, August 17, 2006
Pray for Supa...
That's right, boys and girls. After 10 glorious unmolested days, Ruff Ryder #2 (The Girl) has now returned from her annual New Jersey summer trip with her favorite Auntie. (my ex-sister in-law and current best friend)
My anxiety kicked in early this morning. I placed the usual ungodly hour, long-distance call:
Supa: Can...she stay...just a few more days? (small unstable voice)
TiredAssAuntie (who thinks she wants kids, but currently has none): You're lucky I didn't send her azz back last week!
TiredAssAuntie: Heiffer! You just came back from Puerto Rico!
Supa: But...but I was just beginning to feel like a real person (vs. a tired mother. Real tears, now) You don't know what it's like!! She thinks my name is Mommy!! She's a vampire! I swear, she wants to eat me!!
TiredAssAuntie: She'll be on the six o'clock flight. Stock up on the Vodka, that's all I can tell ya. (click)
Supa, hands shaking, hangs up phone....began pacing in the backyard like a newly released felon two hours late for the half-way house. Fool. Your parole is ganked. (not that I 'aint had RR #1 (That Boy) to deal with, but still....)
This evening, her daddy/my ex-hubby happily scooped her from the airport, and delivered her straight to my door. It's his turn for a break; we've been playing tag team all summer. "I told her to go easy on you," he says. "Cheer up. By the time you're completely insane, I'll be back to pick her up....on Tuesday..."
"Please don't leave me here...it's not safe...they wanna eat me..."
He peels off, hittin' co'ners. Don't even look back.
And for the last three hours it's been Mommy, can I have a snow cone, Mommy where's the ice cream truck, Mommy when are we going school shopping, Mommy why can't I get highlights in my hair, Mommy why do I have to pick up Sassy's poop who picked it up when I was gone, Mommy do ducks fart, Mommy why can't I wear lipgloss, Mommy let's make up a new dance, Mommy did the Ti-vo record all the episodes of That's So Raven, Mommy, Mommy? Mommy. Mommy!
Supa, hands shaking, fumbling for Vodka...