Monday Summary

[sinanju]

snippy's mother has terminal cancer. It's a matter of "when", not "if" at this point. I say "at this point" but really, there was no hint that anything was wrong until she went to the hospital for tests because they thought she'd had a stroke--only it wasn't a stroke. It's two brain tumors, and a lung tumor. And possibly more (they're doing more tests today). snippy is handling it well, all things considered.

On the other hand, we attended snippy's office holiday party Saturday night. It was held, as usual, in the home of one of the partners in the firm. A very nice house on Mt. Tabor with a wonderful view to the east. It was catered by a local delicatessen that snippy really likes (she chose the menu). Delicious food and wonderful dessert items. snippy had a wonderful time, enhanced by a couple of Captain Morgan's Rum & Coke drinks. I had a moderately good time (I don't know most of these people well, if at all).

Twoson is home sick from school again. Came down with stomach pains Sunday evening, right about the time he confessed that he had a lot of homework hanging over his head that he hadn't done. Is this a coincidence? I think not. Not that I think he's faking, but it is clearly evidence of very bad anxiety management. He sat around watching tv all day yesterday, then panicked last night when he either a) remembered or b) could no longer ignore the homework he didn't think about all weekend.

My inner Southern Baptist wants to rant and rave at him, and punish him for his sloth and procrastination. Rub his nose in it and stand over him and make him do his homework/go to school anyhow. "Suck it up!" shouts my inner drill instructor, "This in unacceptable!" Ask him rhetorical questions: "What are you going to do when you're on your own, and responsible for supporting yourself? Then it's going to be 'root little pig, or die!'" as my mother used to tell me (really).

But while that's how I was raised (and I certainly was accused of laziness and not working up to my potential more than a few times), it isn't necessarily the best way. And definitely not the best way for Twoson, who has never been handled that way. So I hold my peace (...mostly), keep quiet and fume silently while snippy deals with him in her own way. It's frustrating as hell, and not just because I have to stifle my instinctive urge to bark at him; I worry about him.

He's caught in a vicious cycle where he puts out of his mind anything that disturbs him...at least until he can no longer ignore it, then he works himself into a frenzy and as often as not collapses with very real (even if psychosomatic) illness. Which, of course, only reinforces his attempts to avoid the source of his stress next time, til he can't ignore it any longer, and...well, you get the picture. And any attempt to suggest an alternative approach is met with mulish resistance and, frequently, hysteria.

[...] Nothing more at the moment. Maybe later.