Even the Sun Sets in Paradise

The kids and I finish the day with rides on the Wild Mouse, dinner, a show that fancies itself the next Glee, and a little bit of shopping.  I also throw in a few hairy eyeball glares at line jumpers who are old enough to know better, just to round out the experience.

At the end of the day, as they are closing down rides, locking pools, turning on lights and announcing when the park will close, the kids and I make our way to the exit.  Thankfully we had found great parking not far from the gate.

What wasn't so great was the fact that the nearest exit had been closed and we had to make a giant loop around the park like we had when we'd arrived. Only now it is dark, I am tired, my eyes weary.  I have no idea where I am going. 

I think we've already established what fun that is for me and the people who have the misfortune of being in the car with me. 

After meandering through town for 10 minutes and deciding that the compass in my car is telling me I've left the state, I ask Pat to commandeer the GPS on my phone.  It does not talk, but at least he can read the directions to me and tell me if the little blue dot wavers from its path on the way to the little red blinking dot.

I already have the darn thing programmed with Charlotte and Jack's addresses. God only knows where I'll be when I need to make my way there like a homing pigeon because of some social crisis. 

Pat pushes the button and we try to figure out how to read the darn thing. It is harder than it looks.  Pat is convinced I need to go straight. I am convinced I need to make a left.  The GPS is not sure.

While we are chatting, Hil's phone rings. It is Lars. It is the third time in an hour that he's called. I can only begin to guess at how many times he's harassed Pat while we've been separated in the park.  I decide not to ask. He will never learn to let the kids enjoy life without him. It's almost as if he's afraid they'll enjoy it too much, so he has to reach out and piss all over anything fun that they do. Some poeple are just assholes.

And as if he needed to remind us of that fact, I can tell from Hil's side of the conversation that he is grilling her. He evidently can hear Pat's voice and must be wondering who is in the car with us.  I can hear her getting impatient. She is repeating, "It's just us, Dad. Me and Mom and Pat." And then explaining, "Pat is reading the directions to her. That's who you hear."

I have been divorced for six years. Why on Earth does he need to know who is in the car with us, and why is it a matter of even the remotest curiosity?

I want to screech at him. I wish Scott were in the car so I could hand him the phone and he could tell him to scratch his ass and leave me alone. I wish Hil would say something like, "What is your hangup, Dad?  It doesn't matter if we have a whole bus load of people crammed in the damn car!  Mom is in charge, not you!  Learn to live with it!"

But really I am sure he is trying to figure out if Scott or Scott and his girls are on vacation with us. Like it is any of his business to even let the thought flicker through his atrophied little brain.

- We are divorced. I can date, marry, and certainly vacation with anyone I damn please. It is just that much better that it is someone as handsome and flawless when compared with Lars.

- And, ahem, Lars, you are getting married to Liza, Part Deux.  You have no right to be jealous if that is what you are, or judgemental. And I don't recall you asking my opinion before Liza moved in with her yoga mat and fat little dog, so my vacation should not even make the list of things to question.

- My life is my life to lead. If I want to have scores of men in and out of it, so be it. You should be so lucky. 

- We were at an amusement park, not a beer festival.  No one has been irresponsibly exposed to anything that will scar them for life (well maybe that one rollercoaster is a question mark for now.)

The nerve of him just galls me.  The fact that he asks the children to be his moles makes me want to twist his testicles off.  I actually day dream about setting his hair on fire.

But Pat is telling me to turn into a corn field and I need to focus.  Hil manages to end the conversation without much further badgering. 

We make our way home, and into the showers. I text Scott to let him know we are safe at home and the cat has not escaped and I have secretly imagined 10 different ways to bludgeon Lars on the way home and why.  I pour a G&T and place a few more puzzle peices in place before kissing my tired babies goodnight and climbing into bed.

Tomorrow we will rise and shine and venture out to the outlets to go back to school shopping. It is part of the winding down of vacation with thoughts of returning to school. The vacation is ending. The summer is ending. As they say, even the sun sets in Paradise.