Deal with it.

#4 broke his collar bone and is out of commission for soccer this year. He loves soccer. It is one sport at his school that his big, not-very-fast self excels at. He is a most excellent defender. He also likes the technicality of it. He likes the technicality of everything. Anyway, being out of commission worried me, given the current situation I feel strongly that it is important for his male self to be doing teenaged young man things like kicking stuff and preventing other people from accomplishing their goals, in an organized and approved-of way. He NEEDS the soccer.  The coach apparently recognizes this and even though #4 cannot run around and prevent people from doing stuff, he can watch and help out technically. Thus, he gets to go to the games, stand on the sidelines, and point stuff out. He likes that. I like that. I LOVE that, because he gets to set aside his life for a couple of hours and be a normal teenaged self, around other normal teenaged selfs, making noise and probably telling nasty jokes about bodily functions.

That is how men, in my experience, deal with things. They compartmentalize, closing the door to that compartment while focusing on this other one. I wish I could do that. My brain is like a complicated braid where everything weaves in with everything else.  It’s kind of exhausting though it makes for excellent multitasking skills.

What am I going to have for supper? He’s off on a soccer thing and I am here alone.

Himself used to tell me about that, how men deal with stuff by turning it off and focusing on something else. He didn’t think the way women analyze stuff to bits was healthy. He said “You talk it to death!” I said “no, we talk it into submission.”  We each learned how to handle the other one, by understanding the different ways of dealing.

The point of this is that I am so very happy that #4 is getting to set aside his grief and be normal for a while. It was being normal that resulted in his broken wing, so I didn’t (why on earth did it change to italics??) flip out about it even though it was more time in the ER. Being normal for him is like air, just as being able to write all this down is food for me.   (speaking of food, what’s for supper? #4 is off on that soccer game, and I don’t know if he will eat while gone or not)

I don’t have a normal yet. (Now why is it back to regular font? I do not know.) Right now I am not even sure normal is in the near future, what with attorneys and bills and such. I am setting my goal for Normal at Fall of 2017. #4 graduates from high school that Spring, I will be settling into a new house in the town where #3,Wife, and upcoming Grandbaby live, and where my parents live. We all be living in a Hillbilly Compound. I hope that my New Normal will begin there.


About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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2 Responses to Deal with it.

  1. elancee says:

    I love that expression, “we talk it into submission.” That is PRECISELY what we do!! If I cannot talk it out, whatever “it” is runs around in my brain like some crazed mouse in a maze until I’m plumb tuckered out.

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