He Said She Said

As of yesterday, the thought of calling the other grandparents to arrange pickup of the GKs Friday (tomorrow) still seemed daunting. Since it was decided that I would pick them up, the call ball was in my court. I asked Hubs if he would be up for making it a speaker phone call to lend me moral support. He was. To our surprise, YS picked up the phone. Not too much of a surprise, though. He and his co-parent were there for a visit with their children. GD's 3 year old screams in the background told me she is still suffering the attachment disorder which began to show its stripes in earnest at the onset of this round back in October.

We already knew from the background talk that we were in trouble when YS handed the phone over to his MIL. As she launched into the family trademark of listing the personal ailments of the day before getting down to business, we interrupted the trademark monologue with a reminder that we are still available to take over primary care of the GKs so they can focus on their own health problems. The non-stop health complaints do cast heavy shadows of doubt about their capabilities for the demanding task. At the very least, the impressive ailment list is tedious to listen to and nowhere on the list of why we called. Forgive us, please, if the GKs are more important to us than your latest, greatest medical procedures. All aboard the geezer train. Luckily, the other grandmother's ailment recital is far easier to interrupt than her husband's. Now, THERE's a geezer ache recital to be reckoned with. . .

We didn't get too far into the confusing jumble of He Said She Said which would equal "No" before hubs nearly knocked me off the couch with his executive command voice saying? ? ? Fuck off, cunt? I am quite certain he did not use those words, but his executive command voice can say, "Fuck off" in the most proper of words. I intervened with an even ruder hang up on the call. Beware the wrath of a patient soul. Hubby's mean voice can be hard to shut off and might be even more irrationally wordy than the manic hyper-expression which earned me my manic depression dx. After the hang-up, I texted both parental units an apology for the confusion and a reminder that this is hard and unprecedented for all of us. Since I knew they were in the other grandparent apartment, I prayerfully assumed they would convey the apology. The other grandparents are technophobes and I certainly wasn't going to risk another ailment recital in order to apologize. Gentle empathy, folks, but this call isnae about you nor the aches and pains of aging. The little ones we all love are suffering.

This feels like a good time to pause for some positive affirmation. The derailment didnae set off the tit-for-tat between skirmish between Hubs and I which it might have a year or three ago. All the stage was set, but we managed to use our still developing back off and calm down step to therapute our own emotional reactions before proceding. We proceeded with a brief after hours text message to the caseworker who had approved the Spring Break visit. We didnae expect an answer last night, but are praying for an answer today. We see what grows.

As the evening grew calmer, I decided to risk a text message to the DIL asking if she knew whether her parents were trying to cut us out of the equation. I included an out for her that I would understand if she didnae respond, but am grateful that she did respond with an insistance that nobody wanted us out of the picture, nor was there any clear reason we have been left out of the proceedural yaddah blahs. The problem is *just* bureaucratic confusion. I thanked her for the useful information and ended with, "Holding the love sacred." I amnae feeling the love just now, but I do believe love is worth holding sacred when I donae feel loved nor loving. It's still there. I am *simply* lost in other emotions for a spell. Letting God lead the dance. . .

Today's sewing project is a dress of contrasting stripes in a jersey knit. Basic black and white stripes tight enough to create dizzying optical illusions. Great pockets, of course. Hopefully the contrasting stipes on the bodice and pockets will break up the stripes enough to soften the vertigo effect. Next is another robe for Hubby. Gold bees on a light blue background with birds on a darker blue contrast for the sleeves and sides. Hopefully the stitchery will be interrupted with the need to lay in groceries for grand time. Just hoping.