As The Stomach Turns

I have had the crap-tap-papiest day. Queen Neg-o-tivity at your reading displeasure here.
No really. I want to post something cheerful, and I have a million pictures to share, but wouldn't you rather hear from the real me? (That's your cue to turn back now).

I woke up to this email :
"bad things are happening.
i need to call you as soon as i can, so be ready.."
From Son #1.
The child who may or may not turn 20 this summer. It was sent at 4:35am my time, and I responded by 7am.

And then I waited.

And then I sent this:

"In the future:
could you please at least summarize what you'll be calling about, because as you let me sit, I am imagining every bad scenario there is. Remember recently when you sent me information on what stress does to your body? Well I suffer with stress too. I have stresses you don't even know about, so if there are bad things happening, spit it out so that I can start processing it instead of sitting here worrying while you are probably asleep."

And then I waited.

I didn't go shopping. I didn't leave our house.

Maybe I should clarify why I would sit around at a young man's beck-n-call.

I have hinted at this in the past, only hinted because I didn't feel like it was appropriate to sling mud on my blog. I'm slinging now. Forget slinging, I'm wrestling in it-- me and all my size 14 glory.

J1 is involved with a girl whose parents may be a few fries short of a Happy Meal. The Dad is the one that frightens me the most. By 3 pm today when he still hadn't called, I was pretty sure the Dad had killed him. Even though it was only about 8am his time.
I took a break from email watch to fetch the other boys from school and when I returned, I had email!

Only, it wasn't from him. It was a NASTY gram from someone I consider a pretty decent friend.

I have to explain more... (read my mind will you, my hand is cramping).

When Son #1 no longer had a job and was forced to look back into college, he just packed up and went. No job, no home. Truthfully, he drove over to check out the school, talked to a few people and then decided he would do it. Within a couple of weeks. This friend of mine offered him a place to stay. I assumed it was until he got everything lined up and got an apartment.
I encouraged him to hurry, not take advantage of their generosity, and then I talked to the Hubby about maybe slipping her and her husband cash to cover any additional expenses he would cause.

I didn't ask her to do this.

Maybe she somehow felt she "owed" it to me, since we flew her over here to England.
Yes, that's right... I emailed her (when Hubby was playing Army) and told her I was about to have a nervous breakdown and she replied, "I'll come over, I have time off for a family reunion, but I'll come help you instead". I was so thrilled she would do this for me. The Hubby emailed, "I'll pay her way if she can come help you".
When I suggested that to her, she said, "I'll pay half".
Isn't that great?
And then she asked us to book it since she couldn't. And then she bought a business. And then she was broke (could no longer pay half), regretted telling me she would come (she really wanted to be there to gear up for the business she'd be taking over), spent the entire time wanting to be in contact with her husband (to discuss the new business) and wanted me to drive her to charity shops (to get the scoop on them-- yes, she bought a charity shop).
She informed me she wasn't interested in seeing sights, "Been there, done that," and so my children, who were without their father and pretty near without their mother spent the beginning of their summer break sitting in the back seat of a car while I drove her to shops.

But I'm not bitter. Because she was my friend and even though she didn't come over to give me a break and help with the kids, she did think about it and it's the thought that counts.

So the email I got today?

She informed me that the girlfriend's bipolar mom has been calling her house and "J1 has done this and J1 has done that"-- a smear campaign like you have never heard.
Whether or not my son is a childmolestingpornstarpyschoticabuser or not (and he's not-- I just picked those words), would you email a friend like that?

Can I go back a little further? Like how my entire family lost our safe-haven, our comfort zone, our refuge from the world because we gathered behind her son when he went head to head with our Bishop? How we stood next to that family as they took on the Stake Presidency and later the Mission Presidency? Never in a hundred years would I have said, "Friend, you need to slap that rebellious kid up-side of the head and tell him as long as he's living in your house, he needs to abide by your rules and your rules are: 'Take the stinking face piercings out, put on a white shirt and go to church' ".

Nope, didn't say that at all.

But today she informs me that my son is the vilest human being ever (because Psycho Mom said so) and they need him to move out now. Via email.

I am 5000 miles away. I am in a different time zone.
He, on the other hand, is right down the hallway. She couldn't tell him that?! When she was the one who gave him the place to stay?!

So. I spent the day angry, sad, hurt, angry, frustrated, and worried. I snapped at children that had no idea what was going on. I cried at my husband. I left one nasty message each for thoughtless friend and bipolar Mom. I relocated my son to another state. Yes, an entirely separate state.

All from my quiet little village in England. This pretty much could be the season cliff hanger...

And another thing... Happy Birthday Lori

I grew up in a small town (can you say "Horton Hears A Who" small?) and my closest friend for most of my growing up years was Lori. When I first met her she was wearing pigtails and horn-rimmed glasses and I can still see her that way 30-something years later.
We played "Ding Dong Ditch", held tennis matches in the street, played hooky from school (to paint ceramics-- how pathetic is that?) and sang along with Shaun Cassidy into a cassette recorder. She made Shrinky Dinks and had the Little People and Barbies I always wished I had. I cried with her when her dog Dinky died because she had been left unknowingly in the car. We went our separate ways about the time that she met the man she would eventually marry. Every once in a while, some news will trickle my way about her, but for the most part I have no idea what she's doing with her life or whether or not she's happy. However, not one December 11th has gone by in all of these years that I didn't think to myself "Happy Birthday Lori".