Tales of Wit and Charm…

Lately I haven’t been spending as much time and money at Starbucks as I have in the past. Since giving up soda I’ve upped my daily coffee intake, and my lovely leopard print wallet can’t handle the burden of more Starbucks on a daily basis.

Don’t you worry; I’ve been coping with making my own coffee at home.

Hannah on the other hand hasn’t been able to wean herself of that Starbucks fix.  After the museum we headed to get ice cream.  The ice cream place my brother chose was located next to a Starbucks.  Hannah refused to get ice cream.  “NO, I’m having Starbucks with my Sarah.  That’s what we do.”  There was such force in her little voice that no one attempted to change her mind.  What can I say?  The kid’s got damn good taste; seriously, just take a look at her sugar daddy bling in the picture.

I didn’t bother to mask my delight in her choice.  I gleefully grabbed her hand and rushed into Starbucks, leaving the boys on their own for ice cream.

She stood on her tippy-toes and ordered her drink from the barista, “I want a girl, pink frappuccino.  And I’ll be over there in that green chair.”  She then flounced off and settled into her chair.

I beamed with pride as I paid the barista. This beautiful child, I’m lucky enough to call my niece, is going to make a kick ass yuppie someday. Someday very, very soon.  And when she is, I’m going to insist she buy her favorite auntie an espresso machine, complete with a sexy, shirtless male barista to work the damn thing.

As promised I took the twins to the dinosaur museum over the weekend.  While we were there I realized my brother is raising a teenage daughter, and not just any teenager, but a bratty one.  Which makes me love her even more.

Every time I looked over at Hannah during the 3-D movie she had taken off the glasses.  I tried to explain to her that she needed to wear them to get the full effect.  The first time she listened to me and immediately put the glasses back on.  The second time, however, she didn’t.  Instead she glared at me, pointed her chubby, little finger in my face and screeched, “Sarah, don’t you dare make me freak out at you, because I will!”

It was the single bitchiest thing she’s ever said to me.  I was so pleased I leaned over and gave her a kiss.  This, of course, pissed her off even more.  “Aunt Sarah, seriously I WILL freak out at you if I have to.”

I left her alone, because I, of all people, understand the need to freak out. I love the hell out of this little girl, and feel sorry for anyone who will someday date her.  Seriously.

I hate the term ex-wife.  I always have.  When my favorite sister-in-law, Holli, and my brother recently divorced I wasn’t sure how to refer to her on this blog.  In the “character” section she’s referred as the mother of my niece and nephew.  As the only girl in my family, Holli has been the only sister I have ever known, and I’m not quite ready to give that up.

The divorce has been an adjustment not just for my brother, but also for the entire family.

We don’t email or text one another as much as we used to, so last night when I got a text message asking if I wanted to meet her and the kids at Starbucks I jumped at the chance.  I see the kids as much as I always have, but not her.  I miss our girl time.

When I arrived I noticed Holli was wearing a pair of shoes I had given her.  At that moment everything that has transpired between she and my brother was instantly gone.  They can deal with their shit, and leave Holli and I to discuss more important things like shoes and how damn cute the kids are.

And they so, so are.  Last night, my darling niece, Hannah, confessed she only ordered the strawberry frappuccino because it’s pink. I smiled and realized that even though Holli and I won’t be sharing the same last name forever, we will always have Hannah and Carter in common.

Fathers Day this year wasn’t quite as happy as years past. The only home life my beloved niece and nephew have known ended over the weekend when their mommy moved out.

Our family met at Matt’s house for a BBQ.  Ben and I walked in to find my nephew, Carter, laying on the floor where the couch once was with his baby blanket.  My dad had warned me it was going to be a rough day for everyone, and he has never been so right.

Carter was pretty upset by the ordeal. He’s such a tender little guy and seeing him so sad, and knowing I couldn’t help him broke my heart. Ben, on the other hand, was thrilled. Not because he’s a horrible person and enjoys family pain, but because Carter was so upset he let Ben hold him. This is a very rare occurrence.

Hannah, was her cheerful self and informed me she is way luckier than I am because she has two houses and I don’t have any. I didn’t pour my Diet Coke on her head, and instead gave her a new shirt from Mrs. AK and Little AK. She was ecstatic when I told her they had bought one for me as well. “Aunt Sarah, I want to help throw Uncle Mean (Ben) away.”

When the divorce is final I think I’ll throw my brother a fresh meat themed party. I plan to only serve bacon and invite hookers. He wasn’t keen on the hookers, but agreed on strippers. “You know for Ben’s enjoyment.”

My brother was out of town yesterday so I picked up his four-year-old twins from daycare.  I knew it was going to be a good night when I walked in and Hannah started jumping up and down and told her teacher, “That’s my aunt Sarah, she’s a total rockstar.”

As per usual, the ride home consisted of Jesus talk.  These kids are just as obsessed with him as I am.  So much for the Jesus talk dying  (Puntastic, no?) down after Easter.

“Aunt Sarah, we have to take a different road home.”

“Why, buddy?”

“Because Jesus brought a big, yellow pipe and left it on our street.”

“Um… why would Jesus leave a pipe in your street?”

“Aunt Sarah, the road is broken.  Some big tractors came and dug it up, and then Jesus left a big, yellow pipe to fix it with.”

“Did this Jesus guy have a hard hat on?”

“Yes.”

“Buddy, I’m pretty sure that was a construction worker, not Jesus.”

“NOOO, it was Jesus… I just know it.”

“Seriously, buddy, I know for a fact Jesus is not a construction worker.  Grandma told me he was a carpenter.”

Silence.  Oh heavenly silence.

And then… in an amazed tone he asks, “Grandma knows Jesus?!”

Fuck.

I wanted to tell him that his grandma is obsessed with Jesus.  And not in the fun/blasphemous way I am, but in the “Jesus is the Savior” kind of way.  I’ll let him figure that one out on his own.

Even after getting puked on three times and catching a death cold from my germ infested niece and nephew, I was still sad to drop them off at their daycare. Leaving Carter is especially heartbreaking a) because he hates being left so much he watches you drive away through the window, and b) because I think I was just making headway on why he should hate NASCAR and deer hunting.