Out of the frying pan and into the fire

For all of you worry warts -- I called the doctor and they said I should be fine. So shut up about that. ;-) I just posted the sound because I wanted you to know how annoying I sounded, not because I wanted to frighten you. I'm getting plenty of air.

This morning the text conversation with Salinda was unpleasant. Let me summarize quickly before my arm gets tingly. County is giving her three choices: move home, have us sign for her to get married, or have us give up guardianship. If she doesn't do one of the three, they will file a CHIPS.

Bart and I aren't doing B and C and I'm not blogging why. If you're curious you can email me. Salinda doesn't feel she can move home without "walking away from the relationship." So, guess who she is mad at? Us, of course. Because we won't sign. And more personally, me, because for some reason I'm her primary parent -- if you have many kids you'll know how that all pans out and what I mean by that.

I had mentioned to the county where she resides that I felt this was a pretty unfair policy and that if they took us to court maybe someone would listen to us. However, Salinda is interpreting this as she is going to need to go to court and prove that we are bad parents and that our home is unsuitable. She has a short list of things that I'm sure in her mind are valid points, but she doesn't understand the world that Child Protection Workers live in. Our children are certainly not being abused nor neglected ....

So in her attempts to text me all the reasons that she can't possibly live in our horrible home, she mentioned an incident that I was not aware of, and I attempted to confront the accused individual. This resulted in Leon, who had reported the infraction to Sadie, who told Salinda instead of her parents about the offense, being mercilessly tortured by the accused offender until Leon was in tears. Leon has been sick for days and was probably most worried about me last week, so to see him receiving the fall out made me crazy.

Of course the offender is being a complete jerk, still, and refused to go to his room and Bart was out of the house, so I've had to listen to him drone on like a drippy faucet about how he isn't going to do what I say.

I know, I know. I wanted to come home from the hospital. But it was more for Bart's sake than mine. The kids anxiety level is off the scales, everyone is off kilter, and they need me here.

If nothing else than to have a target for their torture... and I am very experienced at that.

And no you don't need to worry about a relapse. I'm feeling better by the minute and I am a tough old b****. I'm not going anywhere.