Up, up, up, up…From about 4 a.m. on, my mind was a constant
flurry of thought and true Sleep was difficult.
Beat the alarm (again) and was up in the Dark Glory of Morning. I love dark mornings…it reminds me of safety,
for some reason: to me, the Night is a blanket of Warmth. On the way to school with the kids, I spoke
of a classmate last night. As my
presentation was beginning, Weber had grinned and said something about cupcakes
with something inappropriate on them and I retorted, “What makes a vagina inappropriate? A classmate started laughing nervously – loudly
stating that she would have been very
offended by a vagina cupcake. “And people like you are the reason I didn’t make any” I responded, sickenly sweet. I later mentioned to Weber that someone in the class is too damn uptight
and needs a vagina sheet cake.
Seriously. WTF. This morning, I mentioned to Maggie that she
and I could have a whole business – making vagina cupcakes. She declined, ever so 13year-oldishly, saying
she’d make regular cupcakes. Huh? No Brazilian wax?
Headed to work, where I did 3 hours of paperwork until it
was time to pick up Maggie again (half-day, again) and back to work where I wanted to A) grab my forgotten cellphone, B)
fill out Treatment plan and Treatment goals C) Show off Maggie to my work
people. We had some lunch and then…home quickly. I had planned to do more packing, but there’s
so much in boxes that there’s no room to put the new boxes we would have. It’s frustrating. Instead, I read a bit from my Amanda Palmer book, “The
Art of Asking.” I started following
Amanda about a year ago after Tatjana introduced me to her, in a virtual manner
of speaking. I never followed the
Dresden Dolls long ago…in the Two Thousands I was more into other stuff – no real
recollection of what. I’ve never been a
huge fan of female vocals, but I enjoy Amanda Palmer’s voice. It’s also a shame I didn’t follow her music
because she does and promotes what so many of us wish we could do.
Off to Maggie’s conference. I had promised Maggie to stop so
Maggie could get a Starbucks coffee and order a blended ice coffee,
myself. That place has the most hideous
coffee. Seriously – go to any AA meeting
where Maxwell house or Folger’s is being served and you’ll beat that overpriced
place. Still, I support what they
support(equality, education, gay marriage, etc), so here’s to shitty coffee. Mags was trying the Pumkin spiced latte, took
a sip “Ughhh!”, took a few more, then said, “Have you ever had a sip of
something and thought it was absolutely disgusting, then had a few more sips
and you thought it was the Best Thing Ever?”
“Ummm…duh! Alcohol!” I replied, and
she laughed. Wish I were joking. L was
in the parking lot as we pulled in and I told him of my see-thru/too-big pants debacle. Apparently I said it too loudly and embarrassed
Mags as kids were walking by. Mom:1,
Maggie:0 She is doing very well in
school – had terrific conferences. I
wonder how this little girl, who had such a sassy smile is now this tall, lanky
young woman, very confident and mature. It
isn’t fair. Despite all the adventures
we’ve had there are a million more that I want.
I may end up being that mom who doesn’t want the kids she has raised to
be so independent to grow up, after all.
Ethan’s game began around 4:40. Suddenly all these basketball rules from my 8th
and 9th grade years came back to me.
It was so much fun watching this kids play, though I felt so bad for the
other team: it wasn’t until a kid sunk a fouls shot in the third quarter at like
33 to 0 that they made their first point.
I applauded him. Seeing this look
of utter defeat on their faces is heartbreaking. I also noticed one of our own making foul
after foul after foul, then doing the “Huh? Me??” signals. Not cool, dude. Not cool at all. I know these are kids, but teaching them or
okaying that kind of play is not good, because they won’t stop. That’s what I
detest about any athlete. Give me a good
player with integrity any day. I hated
to do it, but we had to leave in the 3rd quarter because dad, for
whatever reason, c/wouldn’t take the kids home, so we left, as he stood there
watching the game his son had been playing in.
I had a client at 6 and had to get the kids home. There is something Magical about the Autumn Sun
as it reaches out to give one last embrace to the leaves of the trees, and in
its desperation, burns them red, or orange, or yellow, instead. The green leaves are so bright, mocking the
Sun’s rays, thus it comes back to hug them, too, and they succumb to the burn,
as well. 
My client session went well – client and parent and it was
so valuable seeing the interaction between the two. Then home and I cooked up chicken and
cauliflower for Girl and I, but then Boy came in and ate the biggest hunk of
chicken (which was fine). That kid is
growing. Homework. Math.
It needed to be Done. Initially,
there was resistance, which I understand…my explanations don’t suit him, so I
pulled out a book Susan had loaned me on Algebra and we began…and it
helped. A little…enough. No – we didn’t get much done, but we
started. We will do more tomorrow, and
Saturday, and Sunday. He responded
differently this time. There was no
shutting down, he sulked, I gave him a minute, came back and he participated. This is a tremendous change from before, yet
I am also changing my approach, because I understand that it isn’t only the “identified patient”, but
everyone around, as well. I am working
on how I respond, react, engage. I love
those kids and will not make them be “The Problem.” I’ve made my therapy appointments for next
week – 2 hours on Monday, one Wednesday, one Thursday. I’ll scan my hours in to Weber and THEN! Maybe apply for me MFT intern number and PCC
intern number. So.Close.
Pics 'n Flicks: "Good Luck" or "Coop Fuck"? ; Dresden Dolls "Coin-Operated Boy"; Egg Flower soup; The BoyMan plays ball; No way can this photo represent the amazing colors Autumn wore today....
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