AB bounced back to baseline with a snap of the fingers, or in his case, swing,snap, flap, hop, skip, table bump. Or something along those lines. He had wanted a mohawk for some time so he grew out his hair and Sunday night I cut it for him and by Monday morning he was angry and practically in tears fretting about it and wanting it buzzed off. I asked him to give it a day. By Monday night I was buying a trial size spiking glue. He refused to let me take a picture of it spiked up but my son looks cool and is happy once again. Good golly if this cycling isn't completely different than Sissy's! I don't know how I'm going to be able to keep up with it. Maybe I just won't; maybe I'll take a "let it be" kind of approach.
WG passed the first half of the testing for the accelerated learning program but not the second half so they'll test again. She's got big things coming up. This Sunday is the cantate musical at church that she's been rehearsing for what seems like a decade. In April she'll be the dinosaur for the school play and in May she has a dance recital. She kept a secret for a week about that one. A few weeks back her dance teacher told me that if she kept working hard she'd get moved to the front line for ballet. Currently she's front and center for tap. I told WG to work hard. That was the last we'd heard about it until this Saturday morning, as we're going out the door for dance, WG just nonchalantly throws out, "oh yeah, mom. I'm on the front row for ballet too."
"What? Really?" She chuckled a little and waved her hand like it was no big deal. "When did you find out?" I begged.
Still cool as a cucumber, "oh, last week. I just didn't tell you."
The business is running hard right now, our busiest time of year as most of our clients are preparing to rent homes for a certain extremely important and prestigious golf tournament. It's kind of funny to watch rich people come all undone and get all flustered and fidgety. Toss in the green rain, AKA: pine pollen, and it's just gross out there. I mean GROSS. I'm hoping The Dad doesn't get the notion to start taking pictures anytime soon because I'm standing on ladders with a face mask so I can breathe. Stupid pollen. I'm miserable!
Thinks are looking up, actually.
I don't miss the point that things look up when Sissy's not here.
It makes me so angry that her issues cause that much drama and chaos that 300 posts and I talk about the other four people in this family maybe 10% of the time. It makes me sad that she has to manipulate that much, so much so that she makes our family completely dysfunctional. It makes my heart ache when I realize how much pain, trauma and anxiety she's made us all endure. It causes my head to spin when I realize that she's not showing behaviors at the hospital and will get herself a green card to come home and ... do it all again. Which makes me angry all over again.
I can't go back to hell. I just can't. At what point does the good of the four out weigh the marginally better for the one? And truthfully, there is no "better" for Sissy. She doesn't want it. Isn't seeking it. Can not even try to motivate herself to be better. It's too much damn fun for her to make us all miserable. I won't have it anymore.
It's so different this time, with her being gone. Last time my emotions were so tied into whether or not I'd been an adequate parent, done enough, tried different tactics, used the right therapies, gone to the right doctors and therapists, juggled the right med cocktail. This time I KNOW I've done it all. All of it. There is no stone I've not turned over looking for a solution for healing for Sissy. This time it is glaringly obvious that I'm adequately parenting another disabled child and a very bright, vivacious child - two children with diametrically opposed needs - with flair. We had one upset last week and 25 minutes of tantrum from both of them while The Dad and I held our ground (and giggled a little at their silly pleas for absolution) and we bought a week of good behavior, hugs, love, politeness and unrequested assistance. That wouldn't be possible if we were bad parents.
No, it's not The Dad or me or the business or AB's issues or WG's mad-skills. It's Sissy. She'll either choose to change, or not. I actually have a lot to say on this issue but I'll save it for another post. Today, it's about the four of us: healing, resting, enjoying peace and quiet, playing, giggling, hugging, loving, and discovering that we have gobs and gobs and oh.my.goodness. insane amounts of time and energy because Sissy's not stealing every drop from everyone.