Auld Lang Swine

Ah yes, the new year. Thank God we made it. 2006 is the year that I will block from my memory cells for all eternity. Double oh seven has a certain ring of luck and intrigue to it. And three days in, I already feel like things are looking up.

We're moving back to the Eastside. Bellevue, here we come. We're actually going back to the same apartment building for old times sake, so it's a new beginning, but not really. It's a bigger, better apartment with views of Meydenbauer Bay, and no chance of flooding, which you know, is a really, really good thing.

I thought that the new year might bring new revelations that would perhaps brighten my dismal view of the ex-husband, but with the whole credit report thing and today's conversation, well that just isn't happening.

As I mentioned before, Audrey has been in Denver with the Swine et al, they are returning even as we speak. Early this morning, my phone woke me up, since it was the Swine, my heart started beating and I answered expecting something dire.

"Hey," he said, "I know it's early but Audrey really misses you and wanted to talk to you. Here."

He handed the phone to Audrey, and her chirpy, cheerful voice filled the phone, "Hi, Momma."

My froggy, groggy voice answered in return, "Good morning, Baby Girl. Momma was sleeping, but it sure is good to hear your voice. I love you."

"I love you too, Momma. Is Papa there?" she asked.

"He's sleeping darling. It's not time for us to wake up yet."

"Well, when the sun comes up will you tell Papa that I love him and miss him sooooo much?"

I said I would and with that she was done talking to me.

Later in the day while I was at work, Sam called me again. This time Audrey was crying and really, really, really missing me. Sam said, "Audrey really wants to see you, so can I drop her off when we get into town tonight?"

"You mean like at eleven?" I asked.

"Well, it'd be more like eleven-thirty, but yeah, then," he answered gruffly.

"Sam, I go to bed at eleven, and her room isn't back to normal from the flooding. I wasn't expecting her until Thursday," I said hesitantly, not wanting to come off like I didn't want to have her back.

"Okay, so I'll just tell your crying daughter that you don't want to see her. Is that what you want?" He was really pushing it.

"Of course not, Sam," I said, "Just call me when you get back into town."

After we hung up the phone I called my mom and told her about the exchange with Sam.

"You know," she surmised, "he has probably just had enough of her and doesn't want to have to bother with her in the morning, getting her ready for daycare and whatnot. They are going to get back so late, Audrey will fall asleep in the car and won't even notice if Sam tells her you will pick her up at daycare on Thursday."

"Well, he spent so much time with her in London. I don't see how he could have "enough of her," I said, pointlessly defending him.

"No he didn't," she retorted. "Audrey was either with me or his mother. They were hardly ever together."

"You're right," I remembered, wondering again why he pressed so hard for full custody. "I'm going to call him back right now."

So I did, when he picked up I said, "Sam, I just don't think it's the best idea for you to drop Audrey off tonight. She ---"

He interrupted me, "Fine! I'll tell Audrey. She's standing right here. Audrey! Your mother said you can't come home tonight. She doesn't want to see you. Do you want to talk to her?"

Anger surged through my veins, as I steeled myself for Audrey's tears.

"Hi momma," Audrey chirped.

"Hey there. How are you?" I asked.

"I'm happy now. I have to pee really, really bad."

I struggled to find the connection between happiness and the urge to urinate while relaxing with the knowledge that she most likely hadn't heard a ridiculously mean word with which Sam had attempted to upset her. Audrey handed the phone back to her dad, so she could find a potty, and he shut the phone without a word.

I decided to let it go at that, but I couldn't believe what he'd tried to pull. It's written into the divorce papers that neither of us shall ever disparage the other parent in front of the child. If you ask me, that was a blatant attempt to disparage this particular parent. Where's Trump when I need him? Because that Swine deserves to be fired.