The Talks

The dance we have been forced into with our departed son's in-laws really does feel like a traditional STBX Waltz. Is it safe to call the STBX Waltz a cultural tradition yet? I believe the dance was new when I was earning those big babysitting bucks in the 60's. Bra-free, single and ready to mingle divorcees were, far and away, my largest client base. I didnae like the feminist soap box portion of those jobs any more than I enjoyed watching the evolution from there to my son's confusion from his wife's post-feminist The Talks as he attempted to be the husband and father he had always dreamed of being. To my sensory perception, her lawyer-weilding parents have taken up her reigns and are continuing her STBX Waltz for her. Should I update my Facebook account so that I can see what tunes we are dancing to this week? Nah. Forewarning only slimes my proverbial feet beforehand. This slimey waltz doesnae trouble itself with reality any more than Matel worries about Barbie's unrealistic body parts and dimensions. Just throw another once and for all The Talk at the problems. The Queen of Hearts has spoken. "Off with their heads."

I say the in-law antics feel like a traditional STBX Waltz, but the strictly personal fact is that I havenae ever participated in the ritual, nay even from the spectator seats. I am typically long gone by the second synchopated refrain from either gender camp. It is a very distinctive melody to my ears. My journies through the throw-away kid camps made me hyper-sensitive to the ostracation processes. If you can throw away the love of your life, I donae stand a snowball's chance in Hell of passing your muster. Later gator. . . Why waste energy avoiding the inevitable? Think I'll **just** go check in on your kids while you are busy Ex-inating their other parent. The children always seem to get trampled on that particular dance floor. 

I seriously doubt my son's in-laws see themselves as taking up their daughter's dance. If she was listening in, I doubt she was surprised to hear her father ask about lawyers before he asked where her body was. He asked her to act retarded so that he could collect her SSD pension straight out of HS. She winced in pain when I told her of her father's early custody custom of offering to *sell* us time with our grandchildren. Just joking, of course. This child sex trafficking survivor still hasnae found the humor in selling time with children, be they my grandchildren or urchins in the border town street gangs my son's FIL grew up in.

The arrangements for this visitation are still being handled patriarch to patriarch. Hubs is pretty convinced he still hears a family lawyer harmonizing in the other grandfather's backtones. He believes we need to handle the visitation maneuvers like *just* another muck-collecting expedition. Stay guarded. Alas, my nature is far better suited for the offensive lines than defense. The best defense is a good offense. Not so much in court games, butttttaaaa. . . Can we fast forward to the part where we build this man his own exhibition in the Hall of Ex'es?

I still wonder often about the voices on the other side of his patriarchal foghorn. Pues. . . Las damas no se conducen. Those voices arenae available to me. Wher proper ladies have The Talks, the patriarch just dictates. Father Knows Best. Aside from the DIL's younger middle-aged brother who *did* bless his father with that retard SSD check, the rest of the DIL's brothers are keeping a safe distance from the entire psycho snot knot. It isnae wise to have more than one rooster in the henhouse.

Just venting. . . The scheduled pick up is the day after tomorrow. Last minute cancellations are a family trademark and my waiting anxiety is escalating. "I.F." they have failed to pay their lawyers retainer fees this week, I believe it likely they will revert to their family business-as-usual. I am treating my strictly personal anxiety escalation as an event which is as predictably natural as rain in a thunderstorm. Prayers in progress that the venting will help manage the escalation. Just praying. . . We see what grows. Sometimes people can surprise you in favorable ways. For now, I am appreciating a spot of relief from my own business-as-usual rapid cycling. I am still a few happies short of a Happy Meal, but personal stability is always worthy of appreciation inside my strictly personal norms.

Stepping small, praying big and letting God lead the dance.