Reasons

I'm writing this down here because I can't hold it all in. When and if I do I feel physically ill, and that does nothing to help my kids.

He was...insane? out of his mind? hallucinating? this morning. He thought there was writing on his hand and that I was trying to do some procedure on him when I checked his blood sugar.

20 minutes of NON-reality. It is so disturbing.

I took the baby to the sitter, singing Jingle Bells to his Hey! the whole way, videoed Wednesday as he portrayed a candle, and worked an ornament decorating station at Winston's party.

The Jeep was back when I got home, driven flush into the fence. I still have no idea where it was, where he was. It's gotten to the point that I don't even want to know.

He seems slightly more aware of what's happening now. He had takeout Chinese in his lap when I got here, and he's back asleep.

It is so strange to be out in the world, doing these amazing things with the boys and then come home and not know if reality is real for him yet.

I was and am quick to remind him of the promise. I didn't find any large stashes of beer in the Jeep when I backed it away from the fence.

Writing this down eases my tummy just enough that I can keep down my lunch; stock back up on a teeny bit of hope.

Promise

He was sober for three days before he started again; tried to hide it from me. I'm not stupid.

He made me promise that it ends today and forever. We shook and held hands, which for us is a damn lot of touching.

He went out tonight. It was supposed to be the bar down the street, but he came home an hour after the bars closed in a lime green taxi cab. He doesn't know, right now, where he left his Jeep.

I woke with a start about 2:20 and got up soon after. I've never been so glad for the zenish chore of writing apple butter, apple butter, apple butter over and over again. The smell of the hot glue gun and the warm press of the burning stuff under the ribbons soothes my shaky fingers.

So the treats are all finished and in the van. I am exhausted, but at least I'm calm. Letting go of the control his actions have over me is so hard.

I have to be up again in an hour and a half. Wednesday's lunch is all but made, there's coffee in the pot, and a promise to be upheld from now on.

We'll see.

Grace

My husband has fallen off the wagon again. I don't know how hard the fall will be this time; last time it almost killed him...us.

But the boys and I are on track. Our wagon bumps along, with rocks and valleys, but moving forward none the less.

This morning I made oatmeal and turkey bacon; an old standby from the baby years before school started for anyone. It makes me think of my Robin.

I lit a candle while it cooked, saying to myself, "Yes, I will light my candle."

Immediately I started singing Nirvana in my head, "Light my candle in a daze cuz I've found God...".

I set it on the table before the food was even ready, a welcome for us, for Him.

The baby, known as Minnow in the blogging world, walked in and saw the candle, excitement in his eyes.

"Gase! Gase!", he said. I didn't understand and told him so. He pointed to the candle, "Gase!". Finally, feeling frustrated with me he said, "Ah memn."

Amen.

Grace.

The candle meant we needed to say Grace. And we did, Johnny Appleseed, with raisin, bacon, and gibberish seeds thrown into the air for extra emphasis.

We just need to say Grace.

We finished and I blew out the candle, breathing in the bitter smoke deeply. Please, Lord, let it linger.