There is a weepy, adolescent girl lying on the couch beside me.
Last night she called in tears because she was feeling ill and didn't know what to do and felt guilty about leaving her brother to do dog/house sitting on his own.
Cabana Boy went and bundled her home.
She has the flu and she was homesick and hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights.
Now, I think her weepiness is a combination of hormones and low blood sugar (because her stomach and hurts and she feels barfy, so she hasn't been eating) - I have been wondering about hypoglycemia and if that could be a problem for her. Something to look up.
On Monday I will be trying to set her up with a new therapist.
My youngest daughter has been much on my mind lately.
Sometimes I worry about where she is really at.
How much of her behaviours are organic?
Is she Fetal Alcohol Spectrum disordered?
Is it learned behaviours? Coping mechanisms?
There are moments when she is staggeringly bright, asks thoughtful questions, comes out with astute observations and others where she seems - I don't know - utterly and completely locked into being four years old on all possible levels.
The four years old part makes a lot of sense, because that was the age she was taken into care at.
It is hard because I just don't know.
Of course it being the holiday season, it isn't exactly the best time to be expecting her to be at her best.
Cause, you know, I'm not, particularly hitting all my spots either.
The youngest son is doing well, he got a little wound up yesterday after Obie called to tell us that he had been thrown out of his motel (the home that the government has provided him with) and so now he has to go back to jail.
He is fourteen years old.
And I feel so damn helpless.
Our sixteen year old called this morning, he is feeling gross, so Cabana Boy went over to stay with him.
Armed with Pepto Bismal, acetaminiphen and ginger ale.