thanks for your support

Just as I'm leaving the office today to pick up A for his counseling appointment and then our group run, I get an email from R that says 'the new landlord says i have to move out by monday, so we need to figure out how to get's a's stuff to your house.'

Instantly I am in that place where there are too many completely opposite thoughts and feelings to make any sense of. I am glad that after years (YEARS!) of this, I have learned not to reply until I've taken several deep breaths and talked through it.

I am elated that A is coming home. I am aggravated that I am not involved in the decision, that the whole thing is treated like moving a piece of furniture under some sort of joint custody agreement. I am worried about how this back and forth stuff is affecting A, I am not looking forward to J's reaction - she's had to ride this ridiculous roller-coaster, too.

And I try not to get too excited. Twice already (maybe more) I thought he was coming home, and he didn't. I want him to WANT to come home, not be resigned to coming home. It's selfish to think that way, I know - but it is the truth and I dare anyone to tell me that they have not thought that way. Ultimately, I want what is best for A. And I want what is best for me. And the kicker - I have NO IDEA what that is.

So we just keep moving. And deal with what is right in front of us, I guess.

A says he's not worried about moving back in with me, he's worried that he "won't have a father when he needs one." It is heart-breaking to hear him say that, and I resist pointing out that really, he doesn't have a father now. He has a guy who behaves like a 15 year old and calls himself a father. It's unfair to say that. I know R loves that boy - and that A loves his dad. And I don't know how to comfort him and help him go through this transition. I do know that I have to sweep aside all my resentments toward his father, no matter how justified.

So I tell him I'm sorry it's working out this way. That I know it's scary and frustrating and unfair. That the place his dad will probably end up is not too far away and that we will make it work.

He says, "Thanks for your support, Mom. I love you." And I know at that point to let it go (too many times I keep talking and trying to fix it).

We ran, we ate, we're home. WE'RE home. I love that he is back where he belongs. And I hope it sticks. And I hope I can continue to support (not push) him.