You snubbed me the other day. It was wild. I didn’t know what to do. Dad picked you up from school, which is not the usual, and when I got home from work you two were sitting at the table eating dinner. You screamed when I walked in and wriggled your way down your high chair. I sat on the ground in front of you with my arms outstretched waiting to wrap you in them when you walked RIGHT BY me into the living room only to turn around, come right back, and HIT me three times on my arm!!! WTF Pony???
You were mad at me. That was clear.
I felt terrible. Like a terrible Mom abandoning and hurting her child. I emotionally crumpled on the floor. Am I doing the right thing by sending you to school two afternoons a week for one hour? Is that too much? Are you too little? I don’t know the answers to these questions. Everyone tells me it’s normal. That this is a process and it’s good that we are beginning it now and in baby steps, how we do everything. But it’s still so bloody confusing and I’m not even British. I don’t know why I used that word, bloody. Maybe it’s because I am trying not to swear…so much. I love swearing though. Sometimes it’s really the only way to get my point across and it feels really good and sometimes really cool. I try really hard to curtail it when I am teaching and it only makes me use strange old fashioned words instead and I can sense the distrust in their eyes. Those teenagers can smell bullshit from a mile away. I love what I get to do, and what I am getting to do more and more. I am one lucky broad. Is that how you spell broad? It looks strange to me right now. Since we decided not to have another child I decided creating this creative writing workshop for teens would be my next baby. I have partnered with this dynamic ball of fire named Tylene and together we are starting a business, I guess. We both feel uniquely qualified due to our past to work with teenagers and admit, it’s our emotional age as well.
I just looked out the window to our backyard and guess what, there is a dead raccoon laying there, right where the cat was. It’s like a war zone back there. Makes me really nervous. I guess we are one with the cycle of life here up on the hill. Dad’s gonna get rid of what’s left of the body soon. I just pray that Coyote doesn’t come back looking for it.
You had your 18 month check up last week and I have finally found the pediatrician I have been searching for. It’s the 4th one we’ve been to, but we’ve struck gold, P! Her name is Dr. Hartstein and she’s one of the partners in our medical group. I heard she was awesome but was hesitant to switch again for fear of looking like a crazy woman in the group, but after talking to the receptionist there who assured me it happens all the time, I made the leap. We had to wait forever and I almost said fuck it, let’s go. But finally we saw her. She was like a ray of sunshine entering the room. Like Dr. Dwight was when we finally met him!!