I had this whole post planned out, about how much I approve of the fact that my mother-in-law is clearly overmedicated and, despite the wonders of modern chemistry (and I don’t know – or care – whether it’s of the prescription variety or the street variety), she has still managed to prove that she is fundamentally opposed to me on a number of basic worldview sorts of matters, and after two days she is no closer to having time alone with my kids.
But that was before the phone rang this morning. Now I’m typing one-handed while holding a sweet but unbelievably big baby girl – she’s two months old now, and has got to weigh 14 pounds – because there is a big outbreak of drama in L&X’s life, and so we’re taking the kids for the weekend while L visits the State Police and gets some stuff dealt with.
It’s a long story, and a good one, the kind of thing that makes you say, “You just can’t make this shit up.” Now we’re no longer in Jerry Springer’s territory, and have moved into a made-for-television movie.
I’ll share what I can as soon as I’m more confident of the facts… but for now, it means a change in plans here. Which is kind of, all by itself, the status quo.