Twenty sessions and our family therapist proclaimed us to be managing very well and we're a cohesive bunch, us three, learning to roll with the punches. We're done, we graduated, though I'm not dumb, she's on speed dial if I need anything and I set up three more monthly sessions to see us through until spring, just in case.
Well, in case I need answers, because sometimes being a parent is flying by the seat of your pants and being a single parent after something as catastrophic as the children losing two dads in two years, let's just say I'd rather endure the therapeutic microscopes than risk fucking up Ruth and Henry forever.
To celebrate a free weekend we're headed up to Nolan's with some of the boys. The kids are excited to get another (slow) snowmobile ride or six and some sleigh rides too. There's so many people going some of the guys are going to have to double-bunk. It's going to be fun. My truck is full of food. I'm full of excitement.
Geez. When's the last time that happened?
