Susan Senator

Ooh, you make me live
Whenever this world is cruel to me
I’ve got you, to help me forgive
You, you’re my best friend.
–Queen

In my family we have what’s called “the sap gene.” This is when we get all mawkish and mushy over something, where we just give in to the feeling until we are dissolved in it. So here goes: I feel like an abused woman who walks on egg shells. But it’s not an alcoholic spouse I fear. It’s my own son. Nat came home with a chip on his shoulder; probably upset about the weather. Now he won’t even let me use the phone! He keeps talking about dinner, and it’s only 4:30. Yet he won’t eat anything. He just walks away from me, screaming, bellowing like an animal in pain. I have been crying all day, because I don’t know what we are going to do if this doesn’t get better.

It doesn’t help that it’s 9/11 and raining. Or that I keep flashing back to happier times, to my little Stand-up Natty, who would push up from my lap on his strong infant legs, grinning about his marvelous feat (feet). And then there was Natty In the Mirror, who delighted at his own reflection. I am getting so maudlin, I’m as gross as a package of Splenda, but what else can I do? This is my F***ing outlet. I hate crying to my friends, I feel embarrassed doing that; or to Ned, who is bearing his own pain about this. I cried to Mom for a while, and I thank God she is there for me, although I wish she were right here. (She’s coming on Sunday. I want to take her with me to The Middle East to see the bellydancing.)

But I wish there was someone to whom I could just say, “Now please figure this out for me.” I keep feeling like there’s something else I should be doing. I talked to his school today; I talked to insurance companies to straighten out our many bills. Anything to stay busy. I exercised and tried to exorcise the pain, but it was a temporary relief.

The LOLcats made me laugh today,

and the I.T. Crowd made me laugh last night. There is always relief, but for now it all feels sniffly and teary.

Hey – I just found out on I.M. that Ned is coming home early to help out. So I’m crying again. That’s my best fwend. That’s my silver lining. Now the sap is really flowing. I’ll stop before you all have a diabetic coma.