It Is My Own Fault

Long morning. The kitchen was a wreck. The kids wanted to face paint. I let them while I was cleaning. Hope looks great! GB is covered from the top of her head to her shoulders in 1/4 inch thick green face paint. I know what I am going to be doing for the next couple of hours. And it won't be finishing the kitchen :(

3 Strikes

Today was suppose to be a very busy day. Hope had a field trip to the ice skating rink and has never ice skated. She was very agitated. GB is on day 7 of her latest manic. Not fun. Both girls had therapy last night.  The therapist reported that she still doesn't know what makes Hope tick and that GB has a tenuous hold on reality. Sigh.

Today Hope was suppose to finish the evaluation with the new shrink. The Dad picked her up early from school and started on the hour journey. Halfway there, her office called and said she went home sick. Meanwhile, I had an appointment with a neurologist. Shortly after I signed in, I was told the neurologist was sick and went home. It is rescheduled for next week.

When I got home, an email from Hope's Texas mom was waiting. She said her youngest child, who is almost 4, had been crying for Hope and they would really like to talk to her. I haven't answered because I don't know what  to say.

What I really want to do is go to bed and start over with tomorrow.