Me and My Big Mouth.

Yesterday started out so wonderfully, too. I spent four hours with LadyP while her husband went to the gym and did the grocery shopping. He had left the television on, something he usually didn't do, and LadyP kept getting startled because someone else in the room was talking. I offered several times to turn the television off, but she liked it on. It was on the news channel, so we kept seeing pictures of bad weather in Florida and congratulating ourselves on having the sense to live in California.

Side note: When I was in the military, over and over again I met people who refused to accept orders to any base in California because of their fear of earthquakes. Folks who could accept hurricanes and tornadoes and blizzards quailed at the thought of earthquakes. Bizarre. Give me an earthquake any day. One day in Japan, I was at sick call, questioning a sailor about his symptoms when a good-sized earthquake hit. We each grabbed our side of the little table between us and as the ground rattled our teeth together the terrified sailor asked me, "a-a-aren't you-u-u scared-d-d-d?" I grinned and answered, "I'm-m-m from-m-m-m C-C-California-a-a!"

Sunday morning KidThree did not make it to our friend's church service, so I went alone. It was lovely and had skits put on by the children of the congregation that KidThree would have enjoyed. That evening, some of the church folks were gathering at a local coffee shop; we were invited to go. KidThree had expressed recently her desire to get back to church and get her conscience straight, so I thought this was something we should pursue. When we got there, we sat and talked with FriendJ, the woman who had invited us to the event. She knew the parents of KidThree's friend who recently died so tragically and discovered through our conversation that he and KidThree had gotten to be very close in the months they knew each other, with the young man providing a lot of support and encouragement to KidThree as she struggled with her new reality. FriendJ asked KidThree if she would like to meet the young man's mother, and KidThree nervously said yes. FriendJ, never one to let the grass grow under her feet, went to a quiet corner of the coffee shop and called the mother on the spot, making an appt for yesterday afternoon. Yesterday KidThree got ready after I came home from staying with LadyP. Poor KidThree--she was so nervous.

We got to the coffee shop at the designated time and the father was there in addition to the mother. After a few minutes of FriendJ doing introductions and helping to break the ice, KidThree started talking to her friend's parents and sharing with them her memories of him. It was wonderful. We talked for two and a half hours about the kids, their school, their romance (it was a real romance), and their lives in general. The parents had not known about their son's relationship with my lovely KidThree and were so pleased and proud to hear what a positive difference he had made in her life here, and I was able to express my gratitude directly to them for the good their son had done my daughter. As we drove home afterwards, KidThree was almost giddy from relief and happiness at how much she enjoyed meeting her friend's parents and how kind they were to her, and how they repeatedly asked her to keep in touch with them. I reminded KidThree how my own parents lost one of my brothers thirty years ago and how his best friend has kept in touch with them ever since, visiting them as recently as two weeks ago when he came from his out-of-state home to visit his mother, so KidThree understood that her friend's parents really did mean the invitation and really would welcome contact with her. What a marvelous couple this pair was, and how wonderful they were to share that time with my girl amidst their own pain and loss.

On the way home, we stopped at the mailbox and found the last two discs, six episodes, of Season Four of The Wire and came home to have a tv marathon. That was wonderful.

Then I blew it. KidThree disclosed something and in my anger and frustration I said something I shouldn't have. How many times have I done that as a parent, and why do I never learn to just keep my mouth shut? Poor KidThree was justifiably upset and I was crushed. We were able to talk about it and resolve the immediate problem, but the underlying issue remains and has to be dealt with, more delicately than I managed last night. I wish tomorrow was KidThree's appt with her psychologist, instead of it being the following week.

Picture me kicking myself in the fanny at having been a mother for over twenty years and still saying things to my girls that I shouldn't. After KidThree was shot, I got her a shirt that read, "Too Bad Life Doesn't Come with an Rewind Button." I'm the one that needs the rewind button.

A