Freakish parenting and Normal

There are very positive experiences in my otherwise shockingly dramatic life. For instance, I exercise with a single-minded determination that has whittled me down to a size 6 jean, despite the loss of a mere 8 pounds. This is enough o keep me wearing jeans every day. Everything else I own has an "M" or an "L" where the size belongs and is thereby unsatisfying. Who is proud? Yes, me.

Also,
too,
and in addition,
I have recently cried at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, inspiring the surrounding participants to offer me Kleenex.  Wait- that fits into the Shockingly Dramatic Life category. However, it segues nicely into an address of "How is Don doing?" He's good. He's kind of freaking me out with his goodness just now, if you want to know the truth. He is all motivated and seeking radical change. I'm hopeful and excited. It's kind of a new feeling.

Plus,
Michael is very soon to stand before a judge. This means that I have to dress up, park downtown, and brave a metal detector to witness the judge's decision. Has Michael behaved himself sufficiently to allow him to be released upon the unsuspecting populace of this locale? Well, duh! He's all kinds of perfect. I've been washing his clothes, and assembling the necessary toiletries, in the fervent expectation that he will shortly be living within the community. He's been incarcerated for over a year.

I'm an awesome parent, in case you were wondering.

I seek solace in food, and the occasional Chardonnay, but other than that, I seriously have worked at being a diligent parent. The fact that my beloved younglings have ended up in rehab and prison is an unfortunate side-issue. For the moment, I have two others under my parenting who are more-or-less normal. My daughter is dating a Mormon (read: respectful and innocent) and my youngest son is willingly home educated ( read: respectful and innocent). See?

Do I spend an inordinate amount of time defending my parenting? Yeah, well. When you are playing the hand I've been dealt, we'll talk. Until then, shush.

I think they will turn out. Really, I do. To be honest, I am a little bit sad to have this incarceration time with Michael coming to an end. He's been so communicative during this. He has called me every day for over a year. Truly, I have gotten to spend so much time as his confidant, and I know that he will move away from me as he builds a life for himself. That's a good thing. Right?

All this nonsense with my children has given me fodder for writing. Whatever will I do if they settle down?
I'll have to look for the amusing bits in the more normal aspects of life. Is that possible?

One thing I have to tell you...
Aaron, who is 13, has taken to calling Tim and I "The Couple Who Sits On Each Other's Laps." I find this vastly amusing. I have no recollection of ever sitting on Tim's lap. I have certainly never had him sit upon mine. Aaron's label for us comes from the single time he found his father and I kissing ardently. This unexpected interruption naturally caused him some discomfort, and apparently imprinted his psyche with an indelible image. So, he has concluded that walking into any room unannounced could result in a duplicate scenario.
Anyway, that's a normal tale. Right? Like, way more normal that prison and Meth...right? That's my contribution to the Normal Parent Category.
Yeah.
I'm going to go find Tim. And see if his lap is free. And plant my size 6 jeans right there.