The Dragon Slayer goes to court today.
My crew is crashing loudly all around. They’ve got bat costumes, swim goggles, backpacks and telescopes. They’ve got a game going involving Old MacDonald, tag and searching the jungle for diamonds. They’re complimenting the white noise in my head with their joy.
Unrepresented, my mum will stand up in family court and explain her position. Will she get that opportunity? Even now, the continued safety of The Boy is her primary objective. He is her son. She needs for him to be safe. Will they hear her out? Proving that she didn’t hurt him is ancillary. Written statements supporting her position as a parent, a care provider, a person who would never harm a child, will help explain the depth of damage his biological mother did to him. Please, God, just give us this one.
Yesterday I saw my doctor, who did a preliminary assessment of the damage to my knee. Very likely a bad strain. Possibly minor tears in the ligaments, cartilage and upper calf muscle. She mentioned my high threshold for pain, suggesting that it makes me my own least reliable witness in terms of how badly I hurt. Actually, I hurt quite a lot. My first physiotherapy session is tonight. I’m hoping for good news about running, swimming, working out, staying sane….
Also, the long wait for a decision on my grad school application is almost over. Sometime in the next two weeks, I’ll get a letter with an answer. Or, one of the
thousand or so times I check my admission status online, “Under Review” will have changed to “Accepted” or “Cast Aside Without Dignity or Grace” (or something like that).
I’m not sure which outcome is more terrifying.
So, I’m a little tense, today. Lunch is cooking, kids are playing, laundry is spinning, the sun is shining. Everything is all right. I have air and water, work and love, the joyful chaos of life with children, and a son and a daughter and a husband who amaze me every day. Everything is all right.
I just wish I could put my head down, for a little while.
UPDATE – 8:20pm MDT: Grace won today, people. The Crown’s representative had a brain and a heart, and the Court showed sound judgement. The outcome? Time. There will be time to prepare, time to assess, and time for The Boy to expose himself for what he is. My Mum reenters the gauntlet on Monday, stronger for this victory.
And me? I’m drinking rum and eating pizza, bitching about my knee on Twitter. I can’t work out for four weeks. At least. I have to find 40 minutes in the daytime to run through my physiotherapy routine, every day for a month. I have to meet with my physiotherapist twice a week so he can torture me in the name of next year’s race season. I have to “take it easy” (whatever the fuck THAT means).
But mostly, I’m just so grateful. Thank you, everybody, for rooting for us today and always. It helps :)