photo from Country Goose B&B in Rhode IslandThe kids' last day of school was last Thursday. Friday was the dress rehearsal for WG's dance recital day and AB-pukes-his-brains-out day. Saturday was the recital and The Dad's birthday. Sunday was pretend-church-doesn't-exist day and put-a-window-AC-unit-in-the-kitchen-window day, which, as it turned out, was easier said than done.
Monday was follow-the-therapist's-advice-day so I drove to my MIL's in the country where I intend to stay until next Monday. I need to clear my head, I need to stop hurting, I need to feel free and I need to be allowed to feel free.
Tuesday was drive-to-the-beach day and accidentally-get-a-sunburn-while-floating-in-the-surf day. It was also AB-and-WG-love-hate-each-other day and eat-way-too-much-mcdonald's-day and see-lots-of-dead-jellyfish day.
Wednesday is go-to-the-hospital-for-an-audit-of-Sissy's-case day and do-another-pointless-therapy-session-with-Sissy day and hopefully not learn-that-sissy-will-be-discharged-in-two-weeks day because that would mess up
Thursday which is quilt-like-a-mad-woman-while-pretending-my-heart-isn't-breaking day and teach-WG-how-to-ride-without-training-wheels day.
better living through modern chemistry? sure, that's true except modern chemistry only fixes the symptoms, not the root problem. My root problem? I'll siphon it for you verbatim from the movie Proof:
How many days have I lost? How can I get back to the place where I started? I’m outside a house trying to find my way in but it’s locked and the blinds are down and I’ve lost the key and I can’t remember what the rooms look like and where I put anything. And if I dare go inside I wonder, will I ever be able to find my way out?
If I go back to the beginning I cold start it over again, I could go line by line, try to find a shorter way, I could try to make it… better.
At a dollar store on my road trip to my MIL's on Monday, the children needed to use the restroom and wanted a snack. As I waited patiently for them to take turns using the facilities, I read the employee notices pinned to the bulletin board in the hallway. "Your doing a great job, team!" was handwritten in pink highlighter on a spreadsheet showing the previous month's sales numbers. I opened my purse and got out a red crayon, the closest I had toa pink highlighter, and added an apostrophe between the 'u' and the 'r' and tacked on an 'e' at the end.
How does one become a general manager of a Dollar Store if s/he doesn't know the difference between your and you're, I wondered? How does one with a colossal brain and proclivity for science and mathematics, potential to become and do amazing things in her lifetime become the low-income adoptive mother of special needs children including an 11 year old that requires repeat psychiatric hospitalization for suicidal ideation and self-harming behaviors?
Thankfully AB exited the restroom before I was forced to answer my rhetorical question, a painful truth for which I have not the strength to face, modern chemistry notwithstanding.