Things have gone from bad to worse, as they tend to do whenever my daughter, the Stainless Steel Amazon, gets involved. Combine two solid weeks down with the flu, her father going into the hospital for a surprise cardio procedure, and her brothers' snivelling, and all I had to do was walk through her line of vision.
Once again, as has happened altogether too frequently in the past, she has thrown a super mega monster screaming tantrum. Once again, I am the primary target, although everyone in her vicinity is catching buckshot. Once again, I am the Beast of the Apocalypse, undermining her authority(?), author of 'fucked-up weirdness' (?) , calling her a bitch all the time (? not that she doesn't rate it at the moment) and a whole random-as-fuck stack of other things that bear very little relationship to rational thinking.
Coming as this does during a time when I am mourning the second loss of my son, the near-loss of my husband, and a diagnosis of adult ADHD, I am somewhat less than willing to give this bullshit the time and consideration she seems to think it deserves. I have received the usual long, ranting, email, and I have once again deleted the usual long, ranting email without reading it. This behavior has played out with dismaying regularity ever since she was about eleven years old, and I've blogged about it elsewhere. This time is different. The time has finally come to put more distance between her and I, and to keep it there for good.
Lest you think that everything in my life sucks, be reassured. The Biker and I are solid. We are GOOD. He is behind me all the way. He was there when this all came down, and he too has seen it aaaaaaaall before. Thank God for him.
And Thank God for modern medicine too. I came thisclose to being a widow. But a ten-minute procedure later and it's like this: if we'd known that a couple of stents would make this much damn difference we'd have bought them by the crate and stapled them all over everything like party decorations. I have to disguise myself as a lawnmower and hide in the shed at night if I want to get any sleep. This has been a public service announcement from the Department of Too Much Information.