the voice in the dark

is his - soft, warm, calling out

can you move my legs?

So, like many women across the globe, I too get to nurse the man child back to health.  And don't get me wrong, a UTI is no laughing matter and he has every right to be grumpy and blunt.  But it sucks, and I'm back to work, and at 6:46 in the morning I did not deserve or want to have an argument about my sterilization of a glass jar.  And yet.  We did.

I'm at my desk now.  Back here like the last ten days never happened - that my gentle schedule of up, coffee, walks, video games, and crochet was just a dream.  Remnants remain - in the recycling that isn't outside yet, a wine bottle stands proud and empty, and a half-consumed bag of doritos flaunts herself shamelessly.  

I'm struggling with some mom-guilt and some mom-fury this morning.  My middle boy - the business owner and moody one - is not staying here at the moment.  He thinks covid is a bit stupid and refuses to curb his visiting of friends.  So with a medically fragile husband, I had to make the call to ask him to leave.  He stayed with a friend, went up north with another friend to see his father, and then stayed with that friend's mother last night when he returned.  Since Wednesday, he's stayed with at least 8 people in four households - and that's not counting here, before we asked him to leave.  Yikes.  So I feel some mom-guilt about that, and some mom fury finding out how many of those people (1 of them a paliative nurse!) let it happen, and that he did mushrooms with his father.  

Bob says my ex is "a toddler" and just does whatever he feels like doing in the moment - but seriously.  How do I deal with this?  Our youngest lives on the street and uses drugs and alcohol to deal with his mental illness and now my middle guy - the business owner and emotionally scarred from our fighting son - uses mushrooms as therapy and does so with his dad.

I'm tired of being the only grownup.  Covid is real.  Mushrooms are not therapy.  My children's father is a hot mess and turning my son into one.  All of this while I give suppositories and catheterize my husband and make meals and shovel the driveway and work long hours as a learning professional.  Ugh.