Everybody Needs A Little Time Away

Ain't that the truth! Sorry I bombarded you all with that bullshit drama below. I was beside myself, and turning to writing did feel good. As long as that post was, I realized I did leave out a lot of details when I went back and read the whole thing. It's all water under the bridge. It has to be in order to heal completely, right? But your comments, emails and phone calls were healing. I can't thank you all enough.

A serious blog post like that is bound to have an impact on those reading. Anger, fear, sadness, confusion, helplessness, hopelessness and plain old parental beasts came out of each of you as you read those words. Thank you for caring enough about my little family to feel. Your kindness and compassion filled the hole inside of my heart. I have hope, and I want to buy each of you a groovy ass cape. You are my super heroes.

We Lanes are striving to get back into a good grove. I think it might be working. As I mentioned in the last post, the kids are seeing counselors. We've always had an open line of communication, but I want them to have another option should they have something they choose not to share with me and their dad.

They used to be these completely normal brats, without a care in the world. Who knew I'd miss that?!

Mr. Lane had a very painful wakeup call. He since has admitted he shouldn't have allowed his brother to come here in the first place. Being his brother, Mr. Lane is having a harder time letting go. They still communicate on the phone. Until the man can resurrect himself and walk a long and lonely sober mile, for himself, I'm completely done. What my old man chooses to do with his brother, is his business. I'm over it.

The major thing we disagree on now is payment. I believe Corky should pay the financial cost of replacing everything he ruined in our son's room. Mr. Lane thinks I should just let it be. If I had enough money to just buy new, then maybe I could let it be. But knowing that lousy piece of shit had enough money to pay a cab $150 to get him back to his apartment from the hospital, where he "partied" with all of his buddies, makes me certain, I'm right about this.

The day Corky called so nonchalantly asking me for a ride, he also called Mr. Lane in the same chipper tone. I just found out about that a couple of days ago. Without talking to me, he told his brother nearly verbatim what I told him. "You are a grown man and you are just going to have to figure this one out on your own. We thought you really wanted to get better, and we wanted to help you achieve that. You lied and you used us. First time, dude shame on me. Second time just ain't happening."

It was a huge step and I'm sure it was difficult for him. The second major step in his recovery came the following day when his brother called back. "Dude, can you just give me a ride? I don't have my shoes here or anything, please!"

I could see the anguish in my husband's eyes. I was certain he was going to crack, give in, place his hand out into that raging fire again. He looked at me, shook his head, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, "I'll drop your clothes and shoes off at the hospital entry and call you when I leave."

Thankfully, even though his brother tried to ride that sympathy train again, standing there wearing his hospital gown, looking frail, waving sadly, leaning his forehead against the inside of the hospital window, Mr. Lane set the bag down, and walked away. My heart hurt for my husband.

I've given my son the choice to either go back to his room or not. I've thrown away the bed and bedding. After scrubbing the carpet for days, I ended up cutting out the section. Yeah, it looks really ghetto. But I threw an old rug and a table over the hole and that is as good as it's going to get until I have the money to replace everything, or that piece of shit mans up.

I brought down the twin bunk that Lane 2 uses for her friends to sleepover. Even though the bedding is slightly girly, and it's a small bed for him, it's something.

Every night, almost like a test of wills, Lane 1 goes into his room. He watches TV, plays video games, does his homework, listens to music and goes to sleep. But every morning he wakes up on the couch in the living room. I've all but begged him to just stop trying to sleep in there. I even went to his counselor and told him that he was doing that. He thinks Lane 1 is trying to face his fear. He believes in time he can concur anything. I guess in time, right? I just ache for him. Why can't he just be a carefree little boy who sleeps soundly anymore? It sucks.

Getting back to normal seems like mission impossible. But like things go, out of the blue, Lane 2 said, "Mom, Patches is having a birthday and I really want to have a party for her."

What kind of crazy cat lady am I raising here?

Corky isn't someone who I felt would be a good influence on anyone's kids. So I'd been adamant about letting the kids have friends over. But now... there was no good reason for me to tell my kid no.

"Sure, have a party for her. But you have to clean, and plan the whole thing yourself."

When she approached me, I was on the phone with my friend Donna. Who no doubt thought a party was just what us Lanes needed. She said she would even celebrate the cat's birthday with her cats by giving them a special tuna treat.

She said, "My cats are very excited about the tuna party. Hopefully I have some in the cupboard. It would be a big let down if all I could do was let them smell my crotch before I gave them a Pounce treat."

I almost choked to death, I laughed so hard.

Lane 2 was pretty stoked. She made invitations and gave them out. Unfortunately, it was on the same day as a football game. Most of her classmates are either cheerleaders or football players. So, thankfully (for me) only a few kids could come.

She made a cake the night before. Then stayed up late cleaning the kitchen. She was so tired and said, "I wish I wasn't so tired. I never even made decorations."

While she was at school the next day, I busted out the balloons, construction paper, stapler, glue, tape, glitter and scissors, making chain link streamers, banners and...a Pin the Tail on the Meow! I used the different colors of construction paper to make confetti to glue onto a calico replica of Patches I drew and covered in glue. I cut out shapely tails for the game and everything. I have to admit it was pretty cool.

When she and her friends came home from school, she lit up. It was worth every second and every ounce of energy I used. I even forgot about that piece of shit brother in-law of mine for a little while.

Her friends, even those who couldn't attend, made cards. And some of them even stole their cats' toys to regift to Patches. One kid brought a half eaten jar of treats. Another friend sent a can of cat food. One of her best buddies bought Patches the Camp Rock DVD. Lane 2 screamed like a banshee! That was by far the highlight of the party... next to Pin the Tail on the Meow, of course. It was so ridiculous and so cute. Even one of Lane 2's teachers made a card for that damn cat, signed by her cats.

Lane 2 held Patches, taking her paws, clasping them together to "open her presents, and read her cards" and every time a card had the word "Meow" written, Lane 2 squeezed the cat, making her meow on cue, as if she really was reading. It was so funny, and so nice having the thunderous sound of laughter fill up our home again.