Didn't

Yesterday was so busy I'd not even responded to texts until later when I could breathe. Vanessa'd sent me Evelyn's photo and Yolie'd sent me CJ's in his new baseball uniform, looking like Daniel did some 20 years ago.

Tabby went with us to the orthopedic surgery consultation, me knowing she'd have a thousand questions about her Memaw going under the knife, so to speak. Instead it is arthroscopic of the meniscus, hopefully just a tear and not the entire piece of cartilage to be removed. Surgery will be early next week.

Tabby later followed me into the gardens, chattering nervously a mile a minute as I planted another hundred strawberry plants, thinking 'bout how I wished I hadn't bragged about how easy it is to do, here a week later and I'm still not finished. Maybe today? Maybe not. Three soccer practices on the schedule.

Verizon basically accused Martin and I of lying, of not buying his phone there, when we both knew that we'd done so last summer. Just because they didn't key it in properly, that makes us suspects?

"Well, we deal with a lot of fraud," a supervisor, I asked to speak to, lamely whined. I'd gone home and very politely raised Cain on the phone. I spend a crapload to keep my teens connected, I pay my sky-high bills on time, I had dug out a paperwork trail to prove it, and it took me two trips to town, but, by golly, I got it done.

Do not accuse me of lying.

My good word is about all I have left, I'm highly hurt, and extremely insulted, when not believed.

I understand that they deal with fraud, theft, and liars, but they really ought to be nicer to their good customers. I kept my opinion to myself, but I'm fairly positive my eyes were blazing. Shy Martin stood there warily, afraid I might blow, probably debating how he could unobtrusively get me out of the store should I detonate.

My anxiety over not knowing where my kids are, even while at school, keeps me spending the big bucks on their phones. Are you kidding me? Between tornadoes, school shootings, and harassment by others, and their own personal insecurities, I always need to know where they are, that they are safe. They google latitude me, always wanting to know exactly where I am at all times. I'm OK with that as I'm usually at home, sometimes at a grocery store.

Coming back home I'd bellyached to Martin, "See? This is why I keep up a paperwork trail." My office looks upended and ransacked, as I'd angrily torn through files to find proof.

I didn't receive any sort of an apology, I didn't press it, I'm not their mama, but Martin is getting a replacement phone for free...as guaranteed by the paperwork I'd kept.

I didn't get to see Dee yesterday, I didn't get to yard sales this morning, I didn't finish planting, and I didn't finish cleaning. The boys didn't go to Chuck's house for movie night, and I didn't hardly get a chance to respond even to texts from kids late yesterday afternoon, as everything piled up around me once again. I didn't get the Frontline meds ordered for my dogs, and I didn't get ahold of a fifth sib group member for an upcoming thingy later.

An impulsive teenager here, understatement of the decade, is having a rough go of it. Wildly irrepressible, antsy, and maybe governed by moon phases or planetary shifts, he's been very, very amped up, even his dog that usually is glued to his side, tried to sleep downstairs with Mr P instead.

As I planted, I thought about how difficult, if not impossible, it's been overall to turn the many challenging behaviors around. How kids seemed almost doomed to repeat that which they knew, or sadly experienced, as small, un-nurtured, severely traumatized toddlers. How I don't feel as if we're breaking those chains of bondage that have so severely hindered their prospects for stable futures - even with an incredibly high arsenal of professional help and resources.

Again, is it the resilience in others that makes this possible, or is it just a higher IQ overall that allows for more introspection, comprehension, and the innate ability to improve?

I wish I knew.

What I do know sometimes just flat out frightens me. Folks in prison? Where are their kids? Street people? Same thing. Mentally ill adults? Their kids removed from their custody, shuffled around in foster care, later available for adoption needing so much help, guidance, resources and everything else under the sun. Good parenting is never enough.

My last sibling group only has one diagnosed member in it, yet I find his anger understandable. Usually controlled by him, seeping out instead in a super high anxiety manifestation, he sees Dr. C and Dr. Mandy, and is on a low dose, a pediatric dose, of an anti-depressant. He weighs 170 now, he's strong and healthy, emotionally a handful, but I do believe he's gonna make it and be right successful in life, his older sister paving the way for him by being a darn good example.

The two youngest in that specific group are smart and capable, popular in school, as their leadership potentials are evident.

But that these four will likely make it in life is not because of my parenting, rather it is intrinsic within them, just as those who'll wind up being career criminals is not my fault.

Folks make choices, some not very well as their behavior disorder drives their truck instead of any ability to reason out the consequences.

I have another sibling group of five with only one undiagnosed member. The other four have some fairly severe issues. I actually have two sibling groups just like that - out of five, only one has made it successfully as they are all adults now.

When I read crime stories I naturally feel sadness for the victims, but my empathy for the perpetrator's family members has swollen exponentially in response to my own experiences. I'd read of two local boys arrested for shooting a BB gun at folks, two boys from a Christian high school in town, all sorts of vicious, ugly comments in the newspaper. Certainly a dumb, dangerous thing to have done, yet I do understand the immature development in a male teen's brain. That doesn't make it right, it just makes it a sad possibility that he'll choose ignorantly at times.

The Jacksonville, Florida perp, a teacher for Pete's Sake, who shot the director of a school that had fired him, was described by everyone as having been raised in a loving, educated two parent nurturing family of high-achievers.

What went wrong within his mind?

I wish I knew, I wish I had answers.

Is it trite to just mumble my confusion and to walk off shaking my head as I ponder life's mysteries?

Honestly, the older I get, the less I know.

But I did make Nando very happy, 18 new chicks for him to raise, their tiny peeps comforting him, as he held each downy baby that he knows will grow into a productive hen. Tabby'd run outside to get the eggs from the coop yesterday, crowing herself louder than my roosters.

Martin was happy with the final results of my controlled Verizon hissy fit, CW went to a friend's house as did Sabrina, Chuy's getting better each day, and I explained to Paloma, on the phone, about how and when I'd come to see her, knowing I'll drive several hours just to watch her immediately get bored with my presence.