The Lunch.

Screen Shot 05-04-17 at 01.49 PM My mother and I went to the Italian restaurant ( the best restaurant in town, but also expensive, so we only go 1-2 times a YR, on special occasions) for our early Mother’s Day lunch. She had the chicken parmigiana and I had a pasta with chicken, mushrooms, melted cheese, and a cream sauce, only I didn’t know it was cream ahead of time( and so was the decadent chocolate mousse cake we shared for dessert) so I never thought ahead and brought my lactose pills….so I know 8 HRS or so later I’m going to pay for it with cramps and diarrhrea…..but it was worth it, the food was soooo good! When it came time to pay the bill, however, my mother realized, much to her horror, that she’d left her credit card at home, and she didn’t have enough $$$$, and lately I purposely leave my purse at home so I’m not tempted to spend $$$ ….so we ended up having to call my hubby to come and bring us $$$$ so we could pay the bill and not have to wash dishes! Talk about embarrassing!

As well, we visited the 13 YR old again, who said she had a good day; she saw the doctor, had group therapy, and did half of the psychological/ IQ test, the language part, which took up most of the day, incl. writing a big essay,and they said she did really well,and that she has good punctuation, which reflects well on our homeschooling, which shows that doctor right that’s so hostile to our homeschooling! It was also nice when we arrived to see her sitting at the table playing a game and socializing with other patients, incl. another girl her age and a 10 YR old boy who’s in there because he tried to kill someone! She’s awkward socially and has trouble making friends( like I do) so it was nice to see, but maybe it’s easier with other damaged, broken people just like her?

I also remember a dream I had awhile ago that I might die 5 May, which is today, so it will be interesting to see if I really will, and each trauma that I’ve had to endure, each time my kids destroy me, each time my life broke me, has chipped away a piece of me bit by bit until I’ve been stripped down to nothing and now there’s nothing left of me anymore,and every time we make the long drives to Kingston and back I half-hope we get into a car crash and I end up killed, blessed relief from the non-stop crisis of my life and from the constant stress that never seems to end.

I also asked the 13 YR old if she wants to come home and she shrugged with a half-hearted grunt, like she wasn’t sure, yet when I asked her if she wanted to live in a foster home  she was horrifed and gasped, “No! Why would I ever want to live there?” and I explained to her that those are the only 2 options; she’s almost 14 YRS old( in a few days) and she either lives at home or in foster care; there’s nowhere else she can live right now, and we just want her to be happy, to get well, and to do whatever she needs to do to get better, and to make her life better and are willing to make whatever changes she feels she needs to be happy and to get well.