It's been yet another day of continuing emails filled with Thorns and Fire from FLIP. Have I mentioned that he gets mad? Or that he hangs onto things so hard they become 2 Dimensional?
My darling girl had a chorus concert tonight. She isn't even taking chorus this year so it's beyond me how this back alley performance invitation took place. She didn't even practice the songs until...yesterday. This is the first one that I've gone to without a mate. FLIP has been to every performance with me for the last few years. There wasn't much point in asking him to hit the pause button on his Soliloquy of why I am a horrible person and accompany me. I know, I am horrible. It was me that forced him to disrespect the relationship and go to a bar and drink to black out and drive and then ultimately end up with melted flower pots on the muffler. Guilty as charged. All I had to do was stay home except for that trip to the launder-mat - you know, exciting Karma burning type activity. When the kid and I fold laundry, side by side, you know some kittens are suffering somewhere. Or the terrorists are winning. Or a strange brew of both, throwing in old women with shoe marks on their foreheads.
Miss Teen-a-ling got up on stage and I could see the anxiety eating her alive. She has epilepsy. This is pretty much the seventh circle of hell for me as I sit in the rather packed audience and watch her eyes blinking too much and her face showing signs of involuntary tics. All I can imagine is the concert that no one will forget where "that poor kid" had a seizure right on stage for all to see. Almost as bad as the dream where you are in your underwear in school, except if you've been doing your squats, your butt should make up for it. I hovered only once - at the last show. It embarrassed her when I ran to the front of the stage to see if she was okay. So this time I felt more like a hawk, hunting for prey. My focus was intent and my head would jerk to whatever side it needed to when the man with the fat, bald head would get in my way.
At first I felt so bad for her. Look at her having these tics and she's in the front row. Everyone can see this. And then I went somewhere peaceful....look at her. She's beautiful and she's perfect just the way that she is. She has epilepsy and she can't be put into a bubble....she needs to have experiences - or at least try. I can't keep her from having a life, nor should I try. I do however, need you, Mr. Bald Guy, to move your dang head so that I can keep a protective eye on her while she's experiencing!
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