Someone please explain to me why grown adults forget how to function when they walk into a coffee shop. A guy threw a fit today because we were out of almond milk. Literal temper tantrum. I just stared at him with my deadest, most exhausted goth-mom expression until he backed down. The whole time, the 9-year-old is sitting in the back room complaining that his cast itches, and I am trying not to think about the fact that Jon hasn’t seen him in two weeks. Two weeks. I am furious. Not even for me, but for the kids. If he wants to pull away from me, fine, whatever. But don’t ghost your own children. I am so angry my hands are shaking.

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