If Moms had Blogs

Yesterday my drama girl and I went to lunch. I always call her that in my head because she's always been dramatic -- extreme reactions, lots of tears, very emotional. When she was three her grandparents started saying she'd grow up to be an actress, since she could really lay it on. It still makes me smile to think of the times she told people proudly, "I'm going to be a mattress when I grow up."

Our meal started out strained because she was sure I would be lecturing, but really all I wanted was to connect and try to gauge how she was doing both emotionally and physically. Most days she runs home to shower and eat and run out the door. She works nights delivering pizza, and I start work early while she's still sleeping. We ended up having a pretty good conversation, and I felt a little better knowing that right at that moment on that day she seemed to be doing okay.

We still talked about drugs, and of course she swears that although she has "tried" things, she does not do drugs. She still think pot isn't a big deal, but I told her that it's caused her a lot of problems this year, and that she's been unreliable, less responsible, and forgetful since she made pot a part of her life.

I told her we had a new counselor to visit on November 21st, but didn't say anything about residential. We'll cross that bridge if it comes. I know she does need treatment of some kind, because even though she has good days like yesterday -- there are many days that aren't so good. She can kid herself, but not those of us around her.

When we left the restaurant (separate cars - her choice - to avoid the stress of being together too long), she thanked me and gave me a big hug that I wasn't expecting. It felt really good to know that she also seemed to enjoy our time together, but more important she seemed to remember that I love her and am always here for her.