Blue skies

Son#1 took to his therapist like a fish to water.

We (meaning Sons#2 and #3, and I), aren't allowed to enter his therapy room anymore.

I told him he could gossip about us to his heart's content, and we weren't allowed to know what he talks about, a fact which he relished.

But he couldn't resist telling us last night that he blames the husband and I for his swearing habits.

We expected a little save-this-kid-from-his-godawful-parents-van to come collect him last night.

This morning is quiet.

The skies are blue, there are shadows against the shed, and you can't imagine if you come from a country where one can see shadows all the time, how wonderful to have the sun out again after shadowless grey skies for weeks.

Son#2 is being bullied at school by a nasty, round boy.

He can't say what he wants in words, but it comes out in emotion.

He cries, feels frustrated and complains of stomach aches every morning.

This can't go on.

Son#3 isn't that keen on school either.

But here I am, sitting in the kitchen, waiting for my life to start.

Some intervention that will kick-start our sickly butts into a different, more promising direction.
We are in the proverbial hole, it seems.

 Will it always feel this way?

Do we ever come to a point and think 'Yes, this is where I am.  I am content now.'?

 It's like missing the punchline of some joke.

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