Last night Leo and I had a couple and their little boy over for dinner. It was fun getting to know them a little better. Of course, they got to know us a lot better because about 7 minutes after dessert Simeon took a head long crash into rage.
So, while I left Leo in the living room to make small talk over the wailing and screaming and apocalyptic banging of tiny fists on the wall, I sat next to Simeon wishing, hoping, praying it would all be over soon.
About thirty minutes later, he was fine. Normal. Smiling. Acting as though nothing unusal had happened.
I was embarrassed, exhausted and crying in front of our guests.
At one point, as they were standing to leave (props for not fleeing in terror) I did this awkward curtsy to play off the crazy show we just gave them. They laughed. Thank God.
Simeon is unpredictable and exhausting and charming and creative and infuriating and wonderfully addictive and awe-inspiring and nauseating and wonderful and dreadful and I think he may just be driving me crazy.
But, hey, at least we’ll have each other.
Nine days and counting until we see the psychologist. I know that this is not going to fix things. I know that this is not going to be THE answer to all of our struggles. I know that this may, in fact, not change things at all, but I can’t help hoping and praying that we at least learn something new and shed a little light on all these murky feelings we’re wading through.