Reality Check

So I'm going to say it one more time - Valentine's Day sucks.

(Just in case you missed it, be sure to check out yesterday's rant post.)

Today started out ok. I got to sleep in a little bit, which is a rare treat. My 5 year old was brought back home after spending part of the weekend with his father, and we chilled out until it was time to start getting ready for school.

Then I got the mail. Yup. That's when it all started falling to pieces. Getting a letter from the Internal Revenue Service is never a good thing. NEVER. Long story short, apparently my dead ex-husband drained his 401K sometime in 2008 without my knowledge and then filed our taxes together without claiming that money as income. So now there is a nice chunk of money that *I* am responsible for. Really? The IRS lady that I spoke with was actually really nice (except for that horrendous Boston accent that makes my skin crawl every time I hear it) and she was very understanding. But regardless, the money is coming out of *my* tax refund (you know, the money I was planning on surviving on for a little bit), I have to file for Innocent Spouse Relief, and then if I qualify, they'll give me the money back.

Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but you know, I thought that I was done cleaning up his messes. That's what I get for thinking. Whatever. I'll deal with it. I'll clean this one up too.

I did a little bit of shopping today, and for the first time in probably a decade or more I bought myself a pair of pajamas. Yup. Why? Because they were cute and dammit I wanted them. So there. So I am now sitting here sporting my new St. Patrick's Day pajamas and drinking a beer just because I can. Yep. And no one can stop me. Deal with it.

As I've talked to friends and family about my ex's death, I find myself wondering about the What Could Have Been scenario. You know, I always hoped that he would straighten up and be a decent father. I hoped that he would beat the alcoholism. I hoped, I hoped, I hoped. Then I rented "Charlie St. Cloud" tonight and sat here and watched it. I wasn't impressed by the movie as a whole - ok, it wasn't bad...just wasn't fabulous. But throughout the whole movie I kept thinking about how the little boy, Sam, looked like my ex's older son. And he was into baseball, like my ex. And he always wore a Red Sox ball cap, like my ex. One of Sam's last lines in the movie was "no one ever gets to see what could have been". I can sit here and think about all the potential scenarios of how our lives could have been different had we chosen to do things differently, but the point is that I'll never know. I need to stop beating myself up over it. It is what it is.

Now that I have that food for thought, I believe I am going to go crash. I have an early and long day tomorrow, with extra kids in and out and playschool and preschool and working with Connie and cleaning and laundry and all of the other fun stuff that I do on a daily basis. If I sleep now I can get a good 6 hours in before I *have* to get up.

"No one ever gets to see what could have been." I just can't get it out of my head.