My mother is trying really, really hard to drive me to medication. This morning's phone call was thankfully not about the Renewed Fabulousness that is My Father, but rather, "I don't know what to do about your brother-- physically, he's better, but mentally..."

(For the record, my brother was undiagnosed bipolar and quite possibly paranoid schizophrenic-- one reason he was undiagnosed was because my mother refused to believe that anything was actually wrong with the little dumpling so kept making excuses and enabling, expecting that one day, he'd grow up. He's 49.)

Currently, because he's gotten so far into non compos mentes, he's been in a hospital and now in a nursing home and she's trying to figure out what the next step is.

She got rather put out when I said, "Mom, given the combination of both prescription and non-prescription drugs he's been on for the last thirty years or so, I think you have to understand there is no getting better for him. There's no way to even get a baseline for what is 'normal' anymore. There is no such thing, he won't get better, and the sooner you realize that, the better."

To which I got the, "You'll see, as your children get older," response.

Dude, I don't hold my kids up on some pedestal. I know they may/do have issues. I'm fully prepared for a rough fall as Nate transitions into middle school. I'm fully prepared to do what it takes to help him through it, whether it requires counseling or tough love or letting him stumble and fall and be hurt, no matter how hard that is, or whatever. The one thing I'll never do is turn a blind eye and pretend it doesn't exist or that it'll magically go away.

Sorry to be so < memememe> She's just intent on driving me down the crazy road it seems. And once again, moving and not leaving a forwarding address is sounding reallllllly good.

CUT AND PASTE, PEOPLE!!!!

There is one attorney here who will routinely ask me to resend attachments I have already emailed him in a blank document so he can forward it to other people without the email thread. IT'S CALLED THE DELETE BUTTON.

Gah, Barb. What a mess.

That is out of control, Perkins.

Oh, Barb. I have to choose to believe that your mother's subtext to this:

"You'll see, as your children get older,"

is that you love your kids so much that anything like giving up on them is near impossible, even if you want a miracle.

However, the recipient of the therapy, drug or talky-meat, sounds like it should be her.

I'm sorely tempted to dare you to write it up as a story, as your mother suggested, and then see if your mother even recognizes it as her story.

((Barb))

Perkins, why do I keep helping in the effort to make more lawyers when they go out into the world and do dumb things? I boggle.

Uggh, Barb. I'm so sorry, both about your brother and your mother's inability to face the situation. Mental illness is tough enough without denial.

We haven't even gone back to work and they are already making me crazy!!! The e-mail just went out that all microwaves, refrigerators, coffee makers and desk lamps owned by teachers must be removed by August 18. How are they expecting teachers to survive getting to work at 7 and then teach all day, with 20 min for lunch, without coffee or the ability to eat in our rooms?

The teacher association here is ridiculously weak and has just rolled over. The county isn't 'really' violating any contract issues.

Oh Barb. {{{Barb}}}

OK, I'm awake, and feeling a bit better this morning. I have an actual plan for today: read an article I printed out yesterday, and then work on a proof in my dissertation that's related to that article. This seems to be a better plan than "work on dissertation," which is the sort of plan that leads to me staring at a blank piece of paper, trying to figure out what to do.

Now I need to get dressed and figure out what to get for lunch. I'm thinking tacos. Also, need to call four different doctors -- one to reschedule an appointment I missed last week, one to find out if blood test results are in, and two to make appointments. (One of them is the eye doctor. Things seem to keep getting blurrier, and I don't like it.)

This is the place for bitching about technical incompetence at work, right?

Oh, my god, motherfuckers, if you ask me to reformat a document, make sure you send the RIGHT VERSION out for approval! Otherwise we get comments that make no sense, and I end up wondering if I'm insane.

(((Hil)))

sj, I'd be tempted to announce "there are no plans, now, or ever. If the sitrep changes you'll be informed," and leave it at that. You can invite people to a cookout or something afterward, and make the announcement there, and send out handwritten notes after that.

Had a lovely birthday. The DH was so excited--bought me a pearl bracelet--something like this: [link] Schmancy! The guy is so adorable--when he does buy me "grown-up" jewelry (once every few years) he only ever buys me pearls and only at Macy's. Anything else makes him nervous. He got it for 50% off, so it is fancy but not, you know, insane. He proudly pointed out that the teeny spacer beads were gold "all the way through."