This was started on Friday last week, but it sucked mightily. Hopefully it sucks less now. Either way, I haven't changed the time perspective.
The family seems to be well on the road to recovery from the stomach flu. I managed to dodge the bullet. And since I behaved like an anti-social germophobe at work for most of this week, I think I've managed to ensure I didn't pass it along. (It was mostly not awkward, except the part where I told an employer who I barely know, "I'll love you from afar" instead of shaking his hand.)
Corey has managed to get into summer school. The only thing that saved his tardy rear end (he turned in the form about two weeks ago; it was due May 7th) is that his school is even more behind than he is. Summer school will be at a central location for the district. His school submitted all of their applications Wednesday afternoon. When I went to see if his name was on the list, it wasn't. The receptionist heard which school he was from and sent me to a counselor. She confirmed that she'd put him into one class and then made sure he got into the second one, too. Corey needs to pass these two classes and then 14 more over the course of the next school year. (This is based on the assumption that he only failed one class this past semester.) At least he has a chance to graduate.
And the biggest news of all, my mother is... behaving normally (relatively... we're talking about my family here). It's been years since she and I were able to have a conversation where I didn't either dominate or have to pull info from her. I went to her house yesterday afternoon and we spent an hour talking, mostly about baby stuff. I learned more about her pregnancies and labors with my brother and me. We talked about how things are going with Fynn. Yesterday she felt Fynn move for the first time.
I was trying to remember when things had changed between her and I. Maybe it was the year my grandfather died. She adored him. The following year, so did my grandmother. She loved her mom, but not like her dad. I think that made it harder for her. In between their passings, Tom and I got married. She loves Tom. He's like her dad, she says. I'm not sure how, since she always called Grandpa "Mr. Fix-it," and Tom will be the first to proclaim his short list of handyman skills.
I have wondered if our marriage was the unintentional kink in the wire, but that seems unlikely. I mean, maybe she felt pushed out of the loop, or lonely. But she has been strange with my aunt, too. My aunt has commented a couple of times lately about how my mom has initiated deeper conversations.
Part of me wonders if my mom is aware of some illness and just not telling us. That would not be unlike her. Or maybe she's just more aware of her own potential life span and has decided to get back to participating? Whatever it is, I'm happy to feel a little closer to her again.
One of the things we talked about yesterday is the plan for Fynn's labor and delivery. I told Tom that I'm not really sure I want my mom there this time. Last time she stood against the wall the entire time. When Madelyn was born and finally in my arms for those few short minutes, she didn't come over to say hello. And then there were those months and months afterward when she didn't come around. It was just pathetic that first Christmas, when I could look back and know that my mother-in-law, who lives 2500 miles away, had spent more time with Madelyn than my own mother, who lived less than five miles from us.
Oddly, she's made more of an effort since we've moved farther away, but visits have still been more uncomfortable than relaxed. So having this open, almost breezy conversation was really something. It completely changed what I said about Fynn being born. I told her she's welcome to be there (I would never have said she was unwelcome). If she and Corey feel like staying at her place and hanging out until things get close to delivery time, that's cool, too.