Today is my Daddy's birthday. He is 66. Joey called him and sang Happy Birthday to him and then had a little chat with him. It was so cute to hear her recounting the day's events. My dad has never been a kid person, even when he had little ones at home, so it's fun to see him digging his one and only granddaughter. They're cute together.

When we drove into the neighborhood this afternoon, there was a fire engine at my friend's house. The neighbors were all standing around their yards watching the events and I just trudged on over to the house and asked what was going on. That's me--right in the thick of things. :-) As they were leaving, I talked to the father and asked if there was anything I could do. The younger daughter wasn't home from school yet so I offered my home if she was afraid to be home alone and they promised to call if they needed anything. Later, the mother thanked me for not just standing back but getting right up close and offering to help. She said that just seeing me gave her enormous comfort for some reason so I was glad I followed my gut and didn't just stand back and gawk.

Turns out that the oldest daughter had been head-butted by some smart ass block head at school and she had to go home from school. Later, she vagaled out in the bathroom and lost consciousness. She kept going in and out of consciousness and they decided to err on the side of safety and call 911. She went to the ER and had a full work up done. The head C.T. showed that she had a mild concussion but it didn't warrant an overnight stay at the hospital. Rose, the mom, is going to raise holy hell at school tomorrow. She wants this boy to pay the deductible for her hospital visit and she wants him punished for assaulting their daughter. He's big enough that he could do some serious damage to someone. What an idiot!

I had lunch with Jaimie today and afterward, we talked for a long time. We were talking about her depression and her most recent crisis where she felt so awful and hurt so much inside that she was tempted to cut herself. She said "I can't describe it--there was this feeling that if I could just cut myself, all the hurt and pain inside would just flow out with the blood." I've heard that from other people who have hurt themselves. We talked about how that could be the impetus to slit your wrists. She was talking about how she had felt suicidal before but that there was always an overriding aura of responsibility to her family and that no matter how bad she felt, there was a strong motivation to be there, in whatever shape, for her children. I said "Promise me that if you feel like that again that you'll call me," and I started to tear up. She did, too. It was really an emotional moment and she did promise and thanked me sincerely for saying that. She is one of the dearest people in my life and it kills me to think of her suffering and hurting so much and being so alone.

And on another matter, Stacey told me today that her little one, Baylee, didn't want to wear her dress to church yesterday because she thought it made her tummy look bad. She said that she looked fat. This is a seven year old girl. It's true--Baylee does have a full tummy, but it's not a big deal. So Stacey wondered "My own self image must have rubbed off on her. I must have said something sometime." I'm thinking "Sometime? How about hundreds of times!" I remember very distinctly when Baylee was about 2 when Baylee wanted more juice and Stacey said "Too much apple juice makes too much Baylee." She didn't say things like that all the time, but I've heard her say things like that on occasion. And then there is the constant concern with her own weight--the big SlimFast era, the constant working out, the comments about her parents and parents-in-law's weight, her husband's weight loss and comments about her own little paunch (which is *not* significant). Stacey has a good figure and she looks great in her clothes but she has such a piss poor self image that she can't accept herself the way she is. I can't tell you how many times she has grabbed her lower stomach and said "Look at this--it's disgusting. It will never go away." I'm sure Baylee has heard that more than once, if not directly, ambiently. When Stacy gets to complaining about her weight, I just want to slap her. I told her that today. I resist the urge, of course, but it still pisses me off. Here she is, probably 75lbs. lighter than me and complaining about her wright or this body flaw or that body flaw. It really bothers me. Stacey wants to talk to her therapist about it to see if maybe Baylee needs therapy, too. What I think Baylee needs is a mom who is ok with her body and with herself. I love Stacey dearly--she's my very best friend in the entire world, but I tell you, this is an issue that irritates the crap out of me.

And on that happy note, I bid you all bonne nuit.

--L