As I may have mentioned, we've got this wee bit of stress going around our house lately. Next Wednesday is our custody trial, which will have kind of a big impact on our family's future and an undeniably huge impact on the life of a little boy we're not even allowed to tell about it. Actually, he's not that little (10 years old), he's not totally clueless, and he really deserves to know what we're doing and why.
What we're doing is trying to move one state over so that my husband can get a bachelor's degree in biomedical engineering. (More details here.) That's nothing threatening to the boy's psyche. What messes with his head is the fact that his mother is deliberately and maliciously putting roadblocks in our way. So we're not allowed to acknowledge that. Of course, it's in his best interest. Just like everything else she does. What? She's his mother.
So things have been a bit tense around here. All the kids can feel it, even though we're not allowed to tell them what's going on (probably because of that). We can tell them that Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Shannon are going to be visiting (very briefly) next week. They're very excited. And much rowdier than ever. I think our toddler has turned into a small, red-headed kangaroo; he won't stop jumping (mostly on his parents, but often on the beds).
My point (and I do have one) was going to be that it's not bad enough we have the constant deluge of court motions, lawyer bills, and even a subpoena, for heaven's sake! (Who decided they had to subpoena the "petitioner" to come to the court, I don't know, but it had "Devil's Advocate" on the letterhead.) No, I very cleverly ran out of my Prozac prescription at the same time. I called it in when I still had a few left, but of course they had to call my doctor's office, and then there was the weekend, and on Monday night the pharmacy still didn't have the meds.
So here's me coming home on Tuesday afternoon, after 3 days without the stuff: Bang! SLAM! (Flinging of laptop onto a chair and storming around the house.) To husband's worried glance, I snarl, "I'm going to find the &!*#$%# phone, and I'm going to say a lot of nasty words into it at the doctor, and then I'm going to go somewhere and SCREAM!" Strangely enough, when the doctor's office was good enough to call me back, my prescription was magically at the pharmacy. And when I actually took the beautiful meds, birds began to sing and rainbows to appear.
Well, not really. But I'm feeling a lot better.