I’m starting this post tonight because if I don’t, I won’t write again for a few weeks. I’m not writing much. I know. There may be about a dozen reasons for this, I’m not sure, but I do know that I am not the person who started this blog so long time ago. That doesn’t matter though, what the hell. Of course I’m not the same person.
Reading old archives is horrible though.
Speaking of archives, I’m missing a huge chunk – have you noticed? Yeah. They are missing out there in cyberspace and my host has a copy of them but won’t post them up unless I give her money because she’ll have to do it manually. So I think, jeez, finally a do-it-yourself project I can… Do. My. Self. Give me the posts. I’ll post them.
However, have I emailed her to tell her this? No.
Have I paid my tuition to the university for the last three courses I’ve taken? No.
Have I got back to the federal government about our 2007 tax return? No.
Things are crappy here in our home. My life seems to be upside down and I am not the one who is actually going through any real trauma. I’m such a pussy of a mother. Seriously.
Franklin’s best friend is moving to Japan on Friday. That is in two days. Just writing this has my stomach in knots like that time the Love of My Life At Twenty-Two told me he wanted to break-up. My heart physically hurt and for once in my life, I wasn’t fascinated with the fact that I was feeling emotion. I was just sad. Really, really sad.
Tonight, I am sad.
Really, really sad.
Franklin screamed at an adult today – his friend’s mother. He was hurt. He wanted his friend to stay and she had come to pick him up earlier than he expected. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do with how he feels right now, I know. Still, this wasn’t okay. It was utter chaos and I had to keep my shit together to talk him off of hysterical mountain while getting Eliza to bed for her nap and helping his friend and his three year old sister out the door.
I want to help Franklin so much but sometimes I feel that we are so fucking connected that I am more harm to him than anything else. What I damn fine dork of a mother I make. I just want to hang out and be sad with him. I can’t think of anything else to say other than, “this sucks, man”.
Yeah. I know.
I should teach parenting classes, write a book, film late night infomercials of myself talking on a stage with a face mic and a big power point projector.
Dickson is confused, I think. Strange thing is, he went through this. He moved away from his best friend at the same age that Franklin is right now. He knows what a big deal this is – five years old and watching a piece of you leave your world. Maybe he knows and therefore is aware that life can go on. He said tonight that things will get better. I know this. I do. But right now? Right now, things are horrible and I can’t fix any of it. Life will go on but for me, Franklin has had one too many things change in his life and… and…
I’m the Mom! I’m supposed to keep everything together, right?
Wow. I sound like I’m six-bloody-teen years old.
I don’t remember having a best friend that I really connected with at Franklin’s age. To tell you the truth, until I met my friend, Joelle, I didn’t connect with really anyone. I watch Franklin and this other boy and wonder how two children can any more similar. They are both so sensitive and creative and scared and amazed at the world. They worry about the same things. They are proud of the same things…
Earlier this month, Franklin wet his bed. It happens. Whatever. Franklin wasn’t concerned. His friend came over to play and about an hour in I hear,
“Hey! I wet my bed last night!”
“Yeah? Me too!”
And then returned to playing like they had just talked about the weather.
Really, really sad.