While having lunch with my daughter on Sunday, we got back around to discussing the completely bonkers conversation she had sat through between her dad and me on the front porch. I am still trying to gauge what to expect at Thursday's Girl Scout Meeting.
She said, "Mom, he didn't ever tell you half of what he talked to us about on the drive down or the whole way back home." I laughed because that is hard to believe. He talked to me for over an hour. What had he left out?
Take a moment now and go grab a trash can or barf bag. That's okay, go ahead. I will wait for you.
He ranted to our kids trying to prove to them (pure speculation) that he had a sexual relationship with this woman because he could tell them exactly how many moles she has on her butt cause he had his hands on both cheeks.
I shook my head and covered my ears in the universal sign language of, "please stop talking, because I can't take it". When he told me she had the best ass ever, I felt I had received the full and complete mental image of her wonderful perfect ass. Now I was left with questions? How many does she have per cheek? Are they in constellation groupings? Do they need to be looked at by a specialist?
In an attempt to get back to trying to figure out what had caused the argument, I asked her what had her dad and his ex girlfriend been fussing about that caused such a commotion? My daughter sat for a few moments trying to recall and then told me she wasn't actually sure. She had only heard bits and parts or it, however what she had heard loud and clear was the ex girlfriend telling my ex husband that his kids are really messed up and need a lot of help.
Well, that really sucks. I had and still have a litany of nasty mean thoughts about her parenting and her kids, but none of that is my business, so I will refrain from responding in anger and disappointment.
My hope is my daughter will either work diligently on her Gold Project or let her dad and I know that she is done with scouting.
This is one of the final weekly ties that I get to spend time with ex husband at each week. Monday is Boy Scouts. Thursday is Girl Scouts. It will not break my heart when those draw to an end and I no longer have to see my ex husband twice a week. I have done my time and paid my dues.
I would love for entire months to pass without seeing or speaking to my ex!
Mad Moles - Poem by Phil Soar
There's Mad Moles in my Garden,
They Party all night long,
Dancing with the wiggly worms,
They fill the night with song.
There's Mad Moles underneath the Turf,
They bump into the roots,
They dance the Samba with the ants,
And are never seen in suits.
Some of them can breakdance,
Or at least, it looks like that,
Some move like they have got the fits,
Or ants inside their pants.
They dig up lumps of soil and dirt,
Whilst jiving to the feeling,
Of Lionel Richie's old Cd's,
They're Dancing on the ceiling.
Their Ceiling is the green, green grass,
They lift it up in clumps,
They are welcome in the forests,
But not near cricket stumps.
There's Mad Moles in my Garden,
I really must evict them,
I'm sticking things into the lawn,
Just hoping to restrict them.
They haven't moved away just yet,
And burn the midnight oil,
I really can't put up with it,
They're messing up my soil.
There's Mad Moles in my garden,
It really is a sight,
Maybe I should just join in,
And party there tonight? ....