There’s been something going on in my personal life and I haven’t mentioned it because I haven’t known how to begin or what to say or how to respect all the parties involved. But things are pretty much wrapping up and I guess it’s OK to say something now.

My BIL and SIL are getting a divorce.

I know it’s not a BIG deal. They’re both young, there are no kids, and they’ll both be able to go on their separate ways with almost no aggravation. They were due for a move to The Great North so my husband’s brother will head on alone and his wife (ex-wife?) will do whatever it is she wants to.

The thing is, we were friends. The SIL and I. We hung out, went shopping, took pictures. We painted, I bounced business ideas off of her.

And now she’s gone.

I was, of course, upset to hear it, but what can you do? I sent her an e-mail expressing the fact that the divorce didn’t mean the end of our friendship and she didn’t respond. So I left it at that. I mean, these things happen, right? It’s not like it happened TO ME. I’m just an innocent bystander really.

Today the BIL came to today with bags and boxes of things from his old apartment. Tomorrow he drives off to the The Great North. As he was un-loading everything he handed me a plastic bag with a V-tech toy and some clothes in size 24 months. He said, “this stuff is for Charlie’s birthday.” That’s when it hit me–that sad little plastic bag. She was always the one to take care of things like birthday cards and presents. A little note to cheer you up.

And now she’s gone.

I know that I’ll be fine. I think my BIL will be fine. But that’ s doesn’t mean that I don’t miss her.

I’ll admit, gleefully, that this post is a joy for me to write. There are so many things that I worried about, so many things that I wasn’t sure would ever happen. But I digress. . .

It all started when I turned Charlie’s car seat around. Seems harmless, right? He’d met the weight requirement a while ago, and I thought his neck strength was ready, so about a month ago I went ahead and turned his car seat to the forward-facing position.

The thing is. . . now he can see me. Sounds good, right? Well, not so much.

Despite having visual impairments and severe brain damage, Charlie quickly figured out that Mommy has control over what songs play on the radio. When we make our 45 minute trek across the lake, I plug my iPod in and jam to whatever I feel like it.

But times, they are a’changin.’

Dammit.

Charlie has no patience for Sarah Bareilles, anything country, or Billy Joel. He lurves Leona Lewis, Gavin DeGraw, the Black Eyed Peas, Britney, and Lady Gaga. Anybody else know that Britney’s middle name was Jean?

The other day I had to listen to Poker Face twice on the ride home. Also, he seemed to find Blame it on the Alcohol quite entertaining. For the record, I hate that song and wouldn’t purposely listen to the entire thing without coercion. Also, for the record, I’ve had to employ a lot of my own discipline techniques as we navigate the scenario where my not-even-two-year-old thinks he should have say on what plays on the radio.

So, apparently it isn’t enough that I didn’t sleep through the night for almost a year or that I have a four inch scar as a result of his birth. No, Charlie will not rest til he’s King of the Radio.

So, damn, that was quick, and also, That’s My Boy because I don’t think there’s anything more normal than driving your mother crazy.

That’s my boy!