Less than 24 Hours

That's how long the new plan worked.
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As of this evening, I don't understand her, don't care about her, and won't let her get a life. I've never been her mom. She's going to go back with her birth parents where she belongs. Apparently, though, she's going by way of her bedroom, to which she has now retreated.

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Part of the fault is mine. I have been fighting heartburn for a couple of weeks. The medication is not eliminating it. Today I realized it had gotten bad enough that I needed to do something new. I have an appointment with my doctor for next Wednesday. All I had for supper tonight was toast, and then I headed back over to the church to finish the newsletter. People weren't cooperating in providing the needed information (at one point I made 7 phone calls without being able to get the confirmation I needed). We had decided this morning to have the newsletter cover July as well as June. I worked on the newsletter all day. I thought it was done. It all fit and was perfect. Then Secretary realized we needed to add the July birthdays and anniversaries. The rest of the week is crazy enough that it really needed to be done tonight. To say that I wasn't real patient would be an understatement.

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Anyway, I did not respond well when she whispered in my ear that she has a UTI. I give her cranberry capsules daily to prevent UTI's, but she has decided this week that she isn't going to drink anything. She's been trying to make herself sick all week. Does she really have a UTI? Maybe. Do I have 45 minutes to go to town to get a test to confirm a UTI? No. Do I have 2 hours to take her to the doctor? No.

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It's not like she hasn't had attention. I set aside time for her when she got off the bus. I heard about her day, admired the hair clip she'd decorated, and let her snuggle into my shoulder for about 45 minutes.

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The newsletter went to print without the confirmation I was seeking. I have sent it out to our email list, and Secretary and her boys are stapling and addressing the rest of them. It's hot here, so my ankles and feet are very swollen. My knee and my stomach are hurting. Daughter is up in her room pouting. I just got a message that Daughter posted on facebook that she was running away. Just another quiet evening in the parsonage in Tiny Village.