Dark Cloud

Things have been going really well lately.  It’s finally cooling down here, and there’s just something exciting and happy about chilly air and snuggly weather.  I am seeing some real results from months of hard work, from my distance in running to fitting into smaller clothes that haven’t fit for a looooong time.

One constant, though, one dark cloud that apparently will always and forever more dangle above my head, is worrying about the kids.  With the holiday schedule this month, it will be a few weeks before the kids are back at home with us.  And let’s just say that what we hear and see of their other home is obviously just the tip of the iceberg, and it’s still disturbing as hell.

For starters, at least three so-called adults in the kids’ other home have arrest records.  You think I must be making this up, right?  I wish I was.  Their own illustrious egg donor has a dazzling collection of glamorous mug shots for a variety of tasteless offenses.  Why worry, right?

No one at their other home ever looks happy.  They have perpetual frowns, sour glowers, and pissy attitudes.  They put on forced performances in public and tolerate each other for appearance’s sake, but it has the freakish look and feel of a bizarre puppet show.

All three of the younger kids have gotten a series of F’s in school recently, even the one who actually likes school.   Their dad and I check their grades every day and communicate with their teachers, but we unfortunately are not there every evening, helping them with homework, making sure they are organized for the next day.  Obviously, neither is anyone else.

Every good parent worries about their kids to some degree.  This is different, though.  There’s a huge difference when you go weeks at a time without even seeing them.  When we drop the kids off at their other home, we are leaving them for long periods of time in the hands of pathological, belligerent, and foul people who have demonstrated, over and over, that they truly don’t care about the kids.  And that’s damn scary.

The kids’ grades, safety, or well-being will never matter to them.  They care about themselves, and their precious greed and pettiness, and nothing more.

When I showed the kids the calendar for this month, and they saw how long it would be before they are back home with us, one of them said grimly, “I don’t like this.”  Well…trust me, neither do I.  And I will worry, and stress, until they finally step safely back through our door.

Author: Sweat & Sparkle

Metamorphosis: a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means View all posts by Sweat & Sparkle