Tonight's Crazy Train, Part 2

I stayed in my room alone for about a half an hour. Hubby had taken over the conversation, responding to their responses to my rant, and I just stayed in my bed, cuddling a big pillow, in my fetal position for about a half hour. Then hubby went back to the living room and it was quiet.


About fifteen minutes later, there was a timid knock at the door. “Who is it?” “Me.” (danae).

I told her to come in. She did.

She crawled in bed behind me and sort of spooned up on me and started playing with my hair. She started talking about all the things that had been frustrating her. I just stayed there. Then Leigh came in, still crying, and apologized. I laughed. "For what?" I asked.  "For being an asshole," she responded.

 I couldn’t help it. She apologizes like this at least twice a week, and then it’s back to the same-old same-old. She laughed too. I'm usually intrigued by what she's apologizing for, which is why I always ask. 

Leigh laid down in front of me, and held my hand.  I told them that no family was perfect, but that it really scared me sometimes how imperfect we were. Leigh asked why. Here’s what I said:

“When Dad and I are dead, I don’t want you guys in fist fights at the funeral. I’d like to be able to die someday knowing you guys will be okay, on your own and as sisters. And not feel like I’d wasted my time.” Leigh was laughing and crying at the same time. Danae was silent, but I think she laughed. I, of course, was still crying because that’s what I do when frustrated. (Actually I cry a lot--anger, frustration, joy, irritation, other people are crying, etc...  it's a ridiculous behavior, but I think it's bio-chemical because I have no control over it.)

We chit-chatted, they tried to convince me to get dressed again (when we came home, I put my comfies on) so Hubby and I could catch the end of the concert. By this time it was 8:30, there’d be no seats left, no way to get dinner or a drink, so I told them it was too late for tonight. They protested, saying Hubby and I needed a night out. I agreed but said, “clearly, we were needed here tonight.”

So now, I have a post-crying jag/hissy fit migraine, a tomato red nose, blood shot looks-like-I’ve- been-stoned-for-a-month eyes and lots of snot. I don’t understand the whole snot thing. But that’s gross, and totally not my point.

My point is this… even after all this, I still love my kids. Angry at them? Yep. Disappointed in them? Yep. Will I still try to have a night out in the future? Yep. Because you never give up hope that someday they’ll get it right.

When you make the therapist cry...

When you make the therapist cry, is it a good thing or a bad thing? 

As my hoardes of readers know, Leigh is a bit of a pistol, and we've been put in court-ordered family therapy.

Today was our second session, and she left in tears. 

We'd played a therapy game where we had to make a bunch of popsicle sticks stay in a stack on top of  a cup, without talking or communicating.  Leigh purposely made it hard by placing her sticks awkwardly when it was her turn to put a stick on the stack. 

In the processing, it was noted by Hubby, me, and Danae that Leigh often does things to intentionally make things harder or worse. 

Then, we all had to write on a piece of paper how we saw Leigh.  Then we had to share what we wrote. 

After everyone read, the therapist was out the door in less than two minutes, tears in her eyes.  The statements we read were the standard "we love you no matter what wish you wouldn't make it so hard" kinds of things....

I don't  know if I'm proud of the fact that we made her cry, or ashamed, or worried... or a fun combination of all three.

What a day, or why I have a lumpy forehead

From 4 PM until about 9:30, I had a really crappy day. At 4, we had a caseworker visit. This was our first of what are supposed to be monthly visits with our new caseworker. This is caseworker number 9 since January, and while we've never met in person, we've talked on the phone. She remembers me from Dawn's adoption, but I don't remember her. (And since January, she's only the second caseworker to do the home visit.) Caseworker visits are to make sure that A. the kids are alive and well. B. the home is reasonably safe. C. the home is reasonable clean and D. the chaos is at least contained. We chit-chat. It was going well. Then she asks to see the babies' room. We walk in, I yoink the cord to turn the light on, and the soccer ball-sized, thick glass globe from the light fixture falls off, bounces off my forehead, and lands in the laundry basket. While I'm holding NaNa. A friend of mine who dropped by, trying to be helpful said, "It knew you just finished the school year and that it was time to be dusted!" Yeah, that went well. There's an imprint of the globe's striped pattern on my forehead and a large lump. And it's 11:08 PM and I still have a headache. Ugh. So then, there was in-home therapy at 6:15 PM--our first home visit with our third therapist since October. Today, I asked Danae to keep the babies in her room, while I worked with the therapist and Leigh, since this is court ordered for Leigh. Five minutes into our session, my phone starts ringing. I kill the sound and ignore it. Then the house phone rings, so I kill the phone again. We're in therapy here, people! Stop calling. And the only people who would do that would be one of my children, my husband or my brother. It was Danae, calling from her bedroom. She wants me to bring her a drink. But I don't know this until she stomps into the kitchen, slings open the the fridge and grabs a drink, pausing only to say in that level of sarcasm that only teens can exude, "Thanks so much for answering the phone, Mom." We're. In. Therapy. DUH!! One does NOT answer the phone while in THERAPY! After the therapist leaves, I ask Danae what her malfunction is. Her: She'd only been there five minutes, and it's not therapy for you anyway. Besides, the baby could have been choking and died and you wouldn't know it because you didn't answer the phone. Me: I'm pretty sure you'd have been yelling. Her: Whatever mom. Wait! Is that a win for me? I think it is!!! YYYYYEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!! Point for me! Lumpy forehead and all!!