STBXing

To my hyper-active senses, not knowing is a kajillion times harder than processing with bad news. Bad news is defined. I know what I have to work with. Not knowing means anything is possible and ? ? ? who knows whether the light at the end of a tunnel is a train, a mob with torches and pitchforks or daylight containing an enemy invasion force with all guns pointed at the solitary opening. Anything is possible and quieting my hyper-vigilance is a challenge which requires elements I barely understand the words of, much less the action of their usefulness.

I am preparing the house and mind for the week long visit with the GK's. It will be the first visit since their parents graduated to STBX's and I amnae feeling anywhere near confident that I know what I am driving in to. I believe I feel one step safer dealing with the other grandparents who currently have CPS monitored protective custody of the children than either STBX, but the fact is, I don't know the other grandparents very well. Who knows their adult child's in-laws very well? I certainly don't. The few and brief times we have entered each other's homes donae constitute intimacy in my mind. My knowlege of them is well-filtered by the 2 STBX's who brought us together. Their STBX son-in-law predicts they will renege on the visit. I am proceding on the assumption that the other grandfather and the members of his patriarchal household will carry through on their word, but YS's skepticism is hard to silence as I kidproof the house and lay in provisions. Is that the voice of my beloved son or the Soon-To-Be-Ex?

Sigh. . . Why can't life be simple?