It's a Process

Motherless slept over last night.  Before there is jumping for joy and a thunder of applause... let's read the blog.

I had received a message from her earlier in the week asking if she could come on Friday, but I didn't hear anything after that.  So I didn't know what to expect.  Was she coming or wasn't she?  If she did come, she would most likely be stompy-mopey-grumpy-and overall just a pain in the ass.  Probably spending most of the night in her room or rolling her eyes at me.  (I secretly hoped for all of it.)  If she didn't come, I would feel sad and devastated wondering what she was doing and why she changed her mind. (Secretly hoping she was having a good time doing whatever else she chose to do... but missing me a little.)

Friday came, and I showed up to pick the kidlets up, and there she was... waiting for me, bags packed, her pillow ready.  My heart started to ache.  I wanted to grab hold of her and never let go.  But I knew that if I did that I would lose her forever.

I had a crystal for her, a rose quartz.  S gave it to me and suggested we give it to her.  What S didn't know when she made that suggestion was that I had two small crystals of my own, given to me by my dear friend not too long ago - but what feels like a lifetime ago.  Because I was essentially living in a different life.  I don't know if my friend realizes I still have her crystals, or that I really found them healing, or the true appreciation I have for her.  I don't think she reads this and I've tried to tell her, but...

Rose Quartz.  I would sometimes put them in my bath water.  Or hold them in my hand (one in each palm).  Sometimes I would place them on my chest like this.

Sometimes they felt cool, sometimes warm, sometimes very light in my hand, and sometimes they would have a weight on my chest.

The proposed emotional and spiritual healing properties of the rose quartz seem to be very fitting for the relationship between Motherless and I.  When I offered her the gift I was very afraid she would not accept.  But she did.  Not exactly graciously, she is still 13 afterall.  She said something like, "Why did you get this?"  and then there was a "Where did it come from?"  Followed by her tossing it into her backpack.

Do you think it will still work even if she never takes it out?

Later that evening, between the huffing - stomping - and eyerolling, she talked a bit about "dad's new girlfriend" and everything she learned about the application process to Hooter's.  I just bit the inside of my mouth and stopped myself from saying, "There's a PROCESS?"  Instead I tried to act very interested and positive.  And when I couldn't take it anymore, I said, "Why don't you go outside and play."  LIKE SHE IS FOUR.

After dinner I asked the kids to make lists of things they wanted at the store so I could get some groceries... Motherless decided to put her two cents in on the lists... and requested FALAFEL CHIPS.

Her:  All I want are some falafel chips.

Me:  I don't even know what the hell that is... does that mean you are going to start coming back over?  Because I don't want some weird food here that is just going to go bad.  Is it really shelf stable? 

Her: [walking out of room]

So that didn't really go well.  A mother can only take so much though.

Then she tells me her father is picking her up in the morning so she can spend the day with her cousin.  Ahhh.  fine.  I just merely nod,  tell her have fun and ask her to come back for Saturday night.  This is when I can't barely take anymore... are you ready?  She tells me she thinks she is going to just stay the night with Susie.  (This is her Dad's deceased mother's friend.  Did you follow that?  Susie's been mothering Motherless since April.)  I can't take anymore.  Fine.  I feel like throwing my hands up and screaming UNCLE.  I'm hurt.  You've hurt my feelings.  I feel like that's all she wants to do anyway.

We retreat to our corners for a couple hours.  Life goes on.  I calm down.  I start to think about this woman in her life.  I really am glad Motherless has someone she can and does talk to... and anyone named Susie can't be that bad.