Rainy, Dreary, Blah

As I was trying to get comfortable in bed last night I heard Primero’s conversation with his friend. I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping. He was talking, very loudly I might add, in the living room despite being told it was time to go to bed, and I couldn’t help but hear him. At one point he was talking about a friend’s mom he knew from his childhood. He was close with her and even called her mom. My drowsy mind told me to ignore this conversation, mostly because it wasn’t about me, but also because I knew it would hurt me. But, I wouldn’t listen to my mind, drowsy or not. You know how science has proven that the last thing you think about before you fall asleep becomes a very strong memory? Ok, so maybe I made that up, but often times the first thing I think of when I wake up is the last thing that was on my mind before I fell asleep. And so today’s memory has not been a great one. My mind keeps spinning and spinning the same question around and around in my head, “Why could Primero call that other woman “Mom” but was resistant to the point of defiant when I suggested he call me Mom?” I would love to lie to you tell you this doesn’t bother me at all but, last memory notwithstanding, it bugs the hell out of me. I try not to dwell on it but it’s sort of like trying to ignore an itch – it never really goes away. Add to this the fact that Primero always refers to me as his adoptive mom, never just mom, even to people who know the story. I probably won’t mention anything to Primero because it will probably only result in him getting angry, but it hurts. It slices me right through the heart.

 

Today really hasn’t been a stellar day all around. When I got into work this morning I discovered that a large stack of pretty, colorful notecards a new customer had given me had been stolen from my desk. This isn’t the first time someone has taken something from me and the item wasn’t expensive but I still feel violated. Why can’t the things on my desk be left alone? At lunch I walked next door for a $5 lunch pizza combo. They are supposed to be “hot and ready.” I waited patiently for 10 minutes of my 30 minute break until I became frustrated. The young lady who took my order had disappeared so I drummed my fingers on the counter until someone else came out to assist me. I was the only one there, so it wasn’t like they were swamped. When I got back to the lunchroom with my hot pizza, the room was freezing, barely a few degrees above the outside temperature. I ate quickly and returned to my desk where I discovered a cryptic text message from Chica Marie’s TSS worker. She asked me to call her tonight, stating she would rather talk than text. I am assuming, since nothing was wrong and she never had any issues texting me about issues in the past, this means she is leaving. I text the mobile therapist, testing out my assumption and she asked me to call her after I call the TSS worker so we could, “work this out together.” At least the day matches my mood. It is rainy and windy and blah.