now fortified with impotent fury!risperdal

“Hey Sean. Look what I got for you.” waggling copy of Caps for Sale
Breathed reverentially. “Thaaaaank you mom. I have wanted that for 39 years!”
“Sweet pea. You’re four. How could you have wanted it for 35 years more than you’ve been alive?”
“…I am just that good?”

There is perfect stillness in the house right now, because right now there’s a dad and a boy over at the neighborhood pool. I’m sure there are many shenanigans going on, and much squealing and laughing.

Happy Father’s Day, love. They get better every year.

So I’d begun to burn out on knitting. One project had re-ignited the fun, but the dreaded Second Sock Syndrome was really bringin me down, yo.

Then I trashed my right arm and wound up in a brace.

I am now frustratingly, maddening, utterly obsessed with making rectangular lace shawls. I have absolutely no idea why I have suddenly, after months of circling this particular sanity drain, fallen for it so thoroughly I have:
-wound my two skeins of artyarns silk rhapsody (a silk and mohair two ply that’s unplied, if that makes sense. I picked it up for a song on sale, in a colourway which I typically don’t wear but makes me think of tequila drinks or italian lemon ices, which I love. Both the tequila drinks and the ices, that is)
-Bought Victorian Lace Today
-Fell in love with Wisp on Knitty’s Summer 07 issue and already eyeballed my stash for what I can use
-Asked Dee if she can do a dye run for me of the kid mohair, as it hit sale right when I was Sick Kid In Hospital Wrangling.

I have lost all grasp on reality. And to prove out I’m out of my stinking mind, I just bought these shoes. People, they have a 7 cm heel. They are CUTE. And VERY RED. And GIRLY.

Please, send help.

Did you know a child, if threatened when going to the bathroom, told they cannot go to the bathroom, or stressed out, can back themselves up so much they require medical intervention to do what I take for granted every freakin morning?

I sure as hell know this now.

(yet another reason I am this close to launching into FASTER PUSSYCAT, KILL KILL! mode on certain folks these days. Kid is fine now. Hope he likes fiber, cause henceforth afternoon snack will consist of wood pulp slurry on cardboard toast points)

I am sitting in a museum, watching the rain lash the park outside and sheet down the imposing slope of slippery black granite steps, and listening to my husband rail with unrestrained fury about how someone treated our child. I lower the volume on the cellphone so the stillness of the place is not broken with our fury and our heartache.

There’s the rattle of a room service cart outside the room at 1 am, as I sit basking in the glow of the laptop screen as I frantically research options.

A child is curled on my lap, as we read ‘Hands are not for hurting’, as we do worksheets to prepare him for a new school, as we gently focus on what we think the problem will be in moving him- a different educational style, a new circle of kids, a different set of expectations for behavior, a new teacher to learn his speech patterns.

I am walking through an airport, weighted down with carryon and awkwardly juggling my cellphone as I live the life of a working mother, calling home to say how was your day sweetie and good night and hey babe how was he for you today. I now know what it is for your heart to stop and your stomach to plummet. I am sleepless as I cannot stop thinking about what happened in a supposedly safe place.

My husband is pacing in our room, his motions at odds with his calm, logical retelling, his reassurance that our child will be okay. His eyes are entirely too bright as he tells me for the fourth time how long it took him to calm the little man down, how he had to hold him until he gave up fighting and just sobbed, to say what had happened.

I am cradling a crying child as he wakes up screaming with a nightmare from his nap. He sobs for a bit and slowly stills and falls back asleep as I chant like a mantra I am here, no one will hurt you, I am here, I love you, I am here, Daddy and I believe you, I am here, you are safe now, I am here, you are never going back. He is damp with sweat, and flushed as I tuck him back in.

I am watching him in the rear view mirror, as we drive to the new place to see how it goes. I am carefully moderating my voice to not taint his response, when he brings up the elephant in the corner. Is he happy or sad he won’t go back there. Happy, he tells me.

And then he smiles. Bright and undimmed, for only a moment. But it is all I need.

I can’t really talk about it yet, suffice to say there are big changes afoot in the wiremonkeymother household. We are all fine, but we’re focusing our energies on making sure certain small people are ready for change (love of god, this is not a pregnancy or a new housepet- don’t even ask). It’s the culmination of things which started in January. We’re sad, upset, angry, and hurt, and boy howdy is there guilt aplenty. It will be okay, this is the sort of thing parenthood is full of.

And lordabove will you all be treated to a night epic wenchrant in a few weeks.