My wheels got stuck, but I think I can keep going...

Scooter's dad didn't let Scooter come home this weekend.  At all.  I lobbied hard.  The weekends, when she comes home, are the only times I get to "see" her.  We skype a couple of times a day, and I get to see her happy face, and she gets to see mine.  It's a sacred time for me.  If it's a mealtime, we'll bring the laptop into the kitchen, and she sits with us at the table while Bubba and I chow down.  If we're out, we'll make a u-turn to come home so we can turn the computer on.  But not this weekend.  This weekend, we are going about our business with some sadness in our hearts.

She couldn't come over today because they had scheduled a hair appointment for her (it's about time!!) after her soccer game, and they have a party to go to at 11am on Sunday.  Basically, that also means that my mom can't take her to church on Sunday, either.  I asked if Scooter could come over after the party (not even to spend the night), just so I could see her for a while.  The answer was a resounding, "No."  And I cried.  I know, I know.  A monkey didn't rip off my hands and face (yet), but it was still such a huge disappointment.  Scooter looks forward to it, and I really look forward to it every weekend.  We usually skype at least 2 times per day on Sat and Sun.  This week will be a big fat zero.

The only bright side is that now, (after 2 months of saying he'll do it), maybe her dad will have the time to actually get her vaccinated for the flu.  Somehow, I have my doubts, though.

Bubba and I finally got rid of the smaller storage unit.  It's official:  we've moved out.  The larger storage unit also received some re-organization today.  Now all the bikes are in there, and so is my trunk mounted bike rack.  It has become too cold for Leo to ride in the "chariot," so there's no reason for me to have the bike here at the apartment.  It also opened up some space in the kitchen.  Bikes and kitchens don't belong together.  I brought back all the photo albums from storage, so maybe instead of laughing and talking to Scooter face to face, I'll just gaze at photos from years past and smile.  She's become such an amazing kid.  And even though her dad might be trying his damnedest to ruin that, he can't.  She'll always be my amazing little monkey -- just not the kind that rips off hands or faces.