LLO had her first visit with the "therapissed" today.  She came out extremely happy.  She got to talk for 60 minutes nonstop.  Loudly.  I moved across the room and stuck my nose in book so I couldn't still hear her through the very large closed door.  And then she got to use the Keurig for some fancy tea.  And then we went out for Rita's therapy.  And it was just one big party.  She is happy today.  She is the star of the show.  Then she came home and proceeded to talk through dinner at high volume in the sisters pick-at-each-other-until-someone-is-screaming-or-crying game.  You know what? I'm done. 

I was reading this book study last night about all kinds of syndromes kids can have.  I'm reading about bipolar depression and oppositional defiance disorder and plain old depression and when I finished reading the damn book, I wanted to throw it out the window.  Because this kid of mine could fit in any one of those.  And the other one has ADHD.  And I can't tell right from left today and can't finish a thought and I can't stop crying because I have just passed along all kinds of bad shit.  I've ruined them. 

Then LLO just has this wonderful grand time chit chatting at $80 an hour and the world is her playground.  And I'm thinking I've been had.  I get fooled a lot.  I tell you.  I'm gullible.  And I can't help thinking this girl has my number.  It pisses me off.  Because I'm dying inside.  If she's doing this all for attention (no matter how valid that may be), I'm going to be mad.  I hate to be made a fool of.  The one thing I can't let go is when someone thinks I'm stupid.

When spawn was way little she had this "look".  It was a look that ripped my heart out.  It was a "my world is ending, mommy, fix it" look that made me get all teary.  It always worked.  I would drop everything and do whatever was necessary to fix the world when she gave me that look.  Then, one day.  I caught her practicing it in the mirror.  Game over, girlfriend.  Imagine her surprise when the look didn't work anymore.

LLO was talking to her sister while I was standing kind of in-between them staring out the window.  Don't ask.  It was a serious discussion.  I don't remember what it was about, but I could feel LLO staring at me, judging the effect her words were having on me.  And I asked her why she was watching.  She didn't deny it.  Oh, sweetie, if you want my attention, you've got it.  You may not be so pleased to have it.

Feed me my eyes.  Can you sew them shut.  I've been listening obsessively to Man in the Box today.  I woke this morning with that song in my head.  It's probably been years since I heard or thought of that song.  Maybe I'll listen to Locomotive Breath next or I'll take suggestions for angry songs.  Death on Two Legs maybe. 

The fine print:  I'm not assuming that this drama is all fake.  (I will forgive her even if I believe she's faking.)  I wouldn't take the chance anyhow, because occasionally I'm wrong and the stakes are too high.  Maybe I'll go to a therapist too so someone has to listen to me talk for 60 minutes. 

Now I believe I will take my urethaned wonder chair (which I've already promised not to make you look at again) into the backyard and read some more of that book.

Epic fail day.  I like to think that I don't suck at this motherhood thing, but I get the rose-colored glasses ripped off my face occasionally.  Like today.  When the school counselor came in to class to talk to me.  LLO said something on the playground (I think) that completely freaked out some of the girls in her class who she claims are not her friends.  I have trouble even saying the word.  I want it not to be said.  Ever.  I want to have her not to have said it today.  I want it not to be something she's said before at home.  I want this word banished from the language, the concept obliterated.  I might type for another five minutes before I can even type this word.  Maybe if I make it small, I can do it. suicide.  Geez.  My beautiful, hilarious, bright LLO mentioned that to the other kids on the playground.  The girls who then went en masse to the school counselor, who immediately pulled my baby into her office and listened to her cry her eyes out about all the things that are bothering her.  She has no friends.  She's not smart.  She's not responsible. Everybody dies around her.  Her sister bullies her and hits her. She's a terrible person.

And I've heard all of this before.  And I say the same things over and over again.  She does have friends.  Those girls wouldn't have gone to the counselor if they didn't care about her.  She may not have many playdates but that's more because I'm so done arranging those things.  She is smart as can be.  Aside from getting good grades (when she turns stuff in), she's really good with science and math- definitely has an aptitude in that direction.  She's a creative writer.  And, unlike the rest of her family, once she gets her mind around the idea that she can do it, she can totally focus on getting something done well and efficiently.  She can be responsible, she just saves that for special occasions.  I know she's nervous about middle school.  As for death, our cat died two years ago.  Turns out that she kicked the cat early in the week poor kitty got put to sleep and she wanted a kitten.  She has been carrying this guilt for two years.  Golly.  Yes, I suppose her sister does hit her sometimes and certainly tries to tell her what to do (because spawn is mini mom), but LLO pokes the hornet's nest and the hornet has no ability to fly away. That's another issue in paradise which plucks my last nerve.  Obviously, LLO is not a terrible person.  She's my kid.  :)

I don't know where this is coming from.  I also don't know what to do about it.  The first time she ever said it I completely freaked on her.  I assumed she didn't know what it meant.  She does now.  And she knows how I feel about it.  Because I don't think I could be on an earth that doesn't have my LLO on it.  I don't. 

A good friend of mine said I can't just ignore it.  I know he's right.  The stakes are too high.  But I missed the lesson in mother school that told me the magic words to fix it.

Earlier this week I thought I was a rock star because I convinced her to take a bath and brush her hair.  I'd let her keep the dreads, if she'd never feel this way again.