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The stress went back through the roof in our family this weekend.  On her Saturday visit, Maria escalated into very aggressive behavior quite unexpectedly and then managed to get to the phone long enough to call 911.  Before too long the cops were banging on our door.  Maria is masterful but by the grace of God, not quite convincing enough to get herself Baker-acted despite her best efforts.  She did manage to engage the cops in conversation for almost 30 minutes though by the end, they had a hard time keeping a straight face.  Still, it was not safe for us to get her back to BARC so one of their vans and staff members had to come pick her up.  Waiting for the van to arrive, all the hostility just melted away and she sagged against me and through sobs, choked out apologies then begged me to let her stay with us.  Those moments are quite simply excruciating.

We failed to think the next step through very well and had already planned for her to have dinner with us and a pair of friends last night. We didn’t change the plan like we should have.  Everything started out well, but by the middle of dinner I had that familiar, sinking feeling watching her grow sullen all over again. Sure enough.  When it was time to go home she refused.  This time we were more prepared and would not allow the situation to escalate.  Even so, it took us three hours to talk her down to the place where we could get her home safely.  When I finally got to bed after 11 last night (which is wayyyy late for me most nights), I don’t think my head had been on the pillow for a minute before I was asleep.  Today has been busy and full of its own stressors so I looked forward with great anticipation to my ramble tonight.

There’s this house. The flamingos always look like they are trying desperately to be set free, but even more so now.  But how can you not stop and smile for just a minute at the absurdity of this Christmas extravaganza, even if it’s just the 12th of November?