N-Wording VII

Of course there needs to be room for the socially unacceptable emotions, as well in any personal norm. Even Jesus experienced anger, sorrow, regret, etc., etc. Socially acceptablle or knot, a diverse range of emotions is a species trait. We are hard-wired for them. Even Emily Post disciples have emotional bowel movements. Poor booby. . . Hope you packed an extra serviellette. I sure the fuck didn't. Use a fig leaf, dearie.

The ride home from school was brutal last night. Big Bro seemed calm and collected when I picked him up from school, then stumbled into a circumstantial altercation with the director of his sisters' daycare on his way to the bathroom. I didnae know whether to laugh or cry as the comedy of errors unfolded in front of Baby Sis and I. When we finally made it to Big Sis's class while Big Bro was in the Boy's Room, she knew something was up before she ran for her coat. Words are far from the most effective form of communication available. The three siblings piled into the cab of the Bee Buggy snarling and rivaling like a ? ? ? pack of childish siblings? I was growling like a beaten crazy bitch wolf by the time I parked in front of our fancy new porch. Even Baby Sis was giving me space to lick my wounds by the front door when Gampy arrived to add in his two cents but all three siblings were watching through the window when Gampy threw his fresh cup of hot coffee angrily into the yard. Despite the high protien basketball under his shirt, he still has the throwing arm of the collegiate pitcher I married. I am rather proud of us that the thrown cup was the end of the tit-for-tat skirmish. Hubs quietly left me to continue licking my wounds and found his own corner to lick his own wounds in.

When I re-entered the house, the three sibs were watching expectantly from the couch inside the door. Big Bro stuttered out the question, "Why did Gampy through that cup?" before the screen door finished closing behind me. While I flailed for an answer, I noted that Gampy had chosen a chair on the other side of the dining area for his wound licking spot. I called his attention and repeated Big Bro's question. I was relieved when Gampy amicably rose from his chair and slid onto the couch next to Big Sis. I donae believe I can repeat the sequence of the conversation which followed. Baby Sis's contribution to the dialog is quite literally beyond words.

I donae quite trust the angelic evening which followed. I donae believe "Angelic" too quaint a word for ^it^. Still. . . Plying hyper-vigilance therapy tools. . . Even if this really is the proverbial train at the end of the tunnel, panic isnae helpful.

Of course the bad days need to be accomodated in the complex weave of life. Sorry, Emily, but BM's happen, whether the review committee approves or knot. Sorting. . . Taking itsy bitsy baby steps.