This past Saturday was okay for a while and then it really wasn’t okay at all. Part of it was my mental state, which went all to hell on Friday. But here are a bunch of cool pictures.
Knockout Ned came along.
Jonah put his harness on to get into the car…
Swinging at the park
Looking at “whiteduck.”
…but then in the car he pulled my hair hard, grabbed and bent my glasses, and kicked me in the head. My mother kept saying “let me get in the back with him.”
I’m not sure if she thought (A) He wouldn’t attack her or (B) She wouldn’t mind it if he did and (C) She certainly wouldn’t be the melodramatic weakling her daughter turns into, crying and sad because she sees her son for 2 hours a week and wants it to be a good 2 hours, a happy 2 hours…
She actually was extremely angry at me for this and not a word was spoken between us on the ride back.
“All I can say,” she declared disgustedly, once we’d arrived home, “is God help Jonah.”
I was pissed at her implication, but I can get behind what she said. I have never done right by her beloved grandson and I never will. This I must accept as her perception, one she has a right to, one I mustn’t do much more with than acknowledge. Thank God I am not so young anymore. I am learning. Slowly…but I am learning when silence, forgiveness, and self-examination are best.
Off to another doctor appointment tomorrow, to the rheumatologist again. Andy’s bringing him up this time.
God help Jonah.
The Never Normal 