Onward II

I be fighting with myself over whether to bump the mood icon up a notch on this entry. Both older children slept with me last night and I didnae sleep well for the squeeze onto the crack between the two twin mattresses shoved together to make a bigger surface, but the unity of the movie we fell asleep to feels like solid progress. The movie was the 2010 remake of "Karate Kid." I was more than a little surprised that Big Bro hadnae ever watched the movie with his Daddy. His daddy adored the movie and all of its sequels when he was his son's current age. Both children were utterly intrigued when I looked up the aging progress of the star, Jaden Smith since he made the movie at 12 years of age. The stories of their father's progress through 1st grade karate classes to the meditation poses they saw him using to attempt juggling the stresses of his hit and miss love affair with their mother and his inability to hold a job while caring for a disabled wife and two children. The third child was taken from him and placed into protective custody with his in-laws immediately after birth. Losing the privilege of caring for the third child hurt both parents terribly. Well. . . I think it hurt the mother, as well. Just thinking. . . Fact is, she remained a closed door in my life until the day she died. Is it evil of me that I have been lying and telling the children I never once doubted her love for them? While I have zero confidence in the mysteries behind her closed door, I have full confidence that my son would want me to tell that lie. As of our last conversation, *he* was confident the she loved them and her in-laws, as well. He was also prone to psychotic delusion, buttttttaaaaa. . . Taking the declarations of love at maternal face value. . . The fact remains she was far more free with criticism than affection. Just like *her* daddy? Like her mama, she seldom spoke in public. Las damas no se conducen. . . Her mama is a closed door to me, as well. Any and all attempts to build a direct connection on the child welfare needs have resulted in shallow regurgitations of her husband's words which looked as sincere as a propaganda campaign.

Inside my own strictly personals, emotions, directions and plans still feel as clear as mud, but the course feels steady between the five people snoozing in this house on this chill morning as we pray our ABC's through the still choppy waters. Just praying. . .