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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.

My heart broke a little bit today.  I’ve known for a while that my brother and his wife are getting a divorce, but it wasn’t until today that I knew their four-year-old twins, Hannah and Carter, knew.  My brother and his wife are both out of town on business, so I’m staying with the kids for a few days.

Hannah: “Aunt Sarah I have to tell you something…  Mommy isn’t going to live with Daddy anymore because she’s going to get her own house. We might live there with her.”

Me: “But who’s going to live with your Daddy? He’ll get incredibly lonely living all by himself.”

Hannah: “He’s going to get a new Carter.  Or maybe you can live with him Aunt Sarah.”

Me: “Hannah that’s silly.  There is no such thing as a new Carter.  We only have one Carter and Daddy isn’t getting a new Carter.  He’s getting a new car.  Different, but very close.”

Carter: “Maybe when I grow up I can buy a house where Mommy, Daddy and Hannah can all live and nobody will fight.”

Hannah: “Maybe when I grow up I can be Jasmine because she is a total princess.”

Me: “This is much too serious of a conversation for you guys to be having over dinosaur chicken nuggets.”

Hannah: “Yeah, we should go to Starbucks.”

Dear Carter and Hannah,

Happy fourth birthday! The last four years have flown by–you’re growing up too fast. I wish you didn’t live in Utah County, so I could see you more. Twice a month isn’t nearly enough. I feel badly that the only time I see you are when your parents are gone. Remember I’m there because I want to be.

Carter, I’m so happy I didn’t throw you out the window the first time I babysat you. Trust me, I was tempted. You cried so much, more than any baby ever, but my friend Alecia was with me and she talked me out of doing it. You owe Leash your life.

I love you Buddy. More than I ever imagined I could love a small child who likes to play big trucks and wear animals on his clothing. You’ll always be my buddy.

Hannah, you’re everything a little girl should be: cute, pink-loving and spunky. You never stop making me laugh, especially when you attempt to have an adult conversation with me. You use vocabulary just slightly beyond your comprehension, much like your Uncle Ben.

I love you Hannah Gatanna more than the color pink. And you, of all people, will understand that’s a hell of a lot.

I have a Starbucks gift card for both of you in my purse. I couldn’t bother giving it to you on your birthday because Grandma Myrna might have been angry. And I don’t want to anger her. She calls pregnant people fat, so can you imagine what she would do to me if provoked. I’m sure you understand.

I love you two more every single day. You’ve brought our family together in a way that I never expected. I would do anything in the world for you, and would do whatever it took to protect you. You’re the closest things to true love I’ve ever known. Thank you for letting me be your Auntie.

Love, Aunt Sarah

Ben called when I was picking up the kids from the daycare last week. After discussing whatever weird thing was on his mind that day, I handed the phone to the kids so they could say hello.

When Hannah was on the phone I said, “Make sure you tell Uncle Ben you love him.” She looked at me in complete disgust and said, “No, Sarah, love with boys is gross! But when you get married love is OK, and it’s not gross anymore.”

She handed me back the phone and left Ben and I to discuss how weird our family is. Even the kids.

It was a rough night last night. It started when I couldn’t drive up my brother’s semi-steep driveway due to massive amounts of snow, immediately followed with forgetting the garage code.

When we finally got into the house the alarm went off. I couldn’t get it to stop and Carter immediately started to cry. Followed by Hannah yelling because Carter wouldn’t stop crying. Ten very loud minutes later I convinced the alarm company I wasn’t there to harm the children, because if so, I would have DONE IT ALREADY!

I knew there was only one thing that would cheer the little buggers up: “Baby Got Back.”

And it so, so did:
The fact the kids now know the word horny guarantees I’ll never be asked to stay overnight with the kids again. It was totally worth it.