And I Hope It Scared Her

Last week got a little hectic. We got a phone call during the week, that from the sound of it (between my FH and Jane’s sister (let’s call her Sandie) something was not right. The tone and exchange on my end was strange (usually my hearing is well enough that I can hear both ends, but I was working and not really feeling like trying to hear the whole conversation). By “strange” I mean that something most definitely wasn’t right. I could feel the air thicken as dread spread through my veins. I began running through my head all the possible people that could have died or that could be in the hospital. All I could think was “What has happened now?” Afterward, my FH and I had a little chat in the bedroom.

Apparently Jane was at the hospital having tests done. The story through the grapevine was that she had fallen, hit her head and was unable to 1) use one side of her body and 2) unable to talk. The call came from Sandie (who I actually adore and e-mail with frequently) as she was the one that was watching the new baby. I was thankful that someone was smart enough to call us and let us know. I might not give a damn about the girl, but she is the mother of the boys and that matters enough. Especially since the boys were supposed to go over to Jane’s this weekend.

I looked at my FH and gave my unsolicited (or maybe it was wanted and he knew I'd give it whether or not he asked) advice (in the most respectful tone that I could find considering I was biting my tongue from what I really wanted to say) that we not say anything to the boys just yet until we knew more information about what was going on. I had the fiancé try to get a hold of Jane’s boyfriend (let’s call him Tyson) to try and get some sort of communication going. He sent an e-mail since he didn’t think he had Tyson’s cell number on him.

I don’t know if Tyson ever responded back, but Jane called on Thursday (I think it was Thursday). She’s back to talking again, and wasn’t going to take the boys after all this weekend – Which I don’t blame her, and I wouldn’t have wanted to send them over there anyway. I stress out enough sending them over there when she’s at her best, why the hell would I want to send them over there immediately following an event like that. Let the girl heal up.

So when the boys asked me if they were going to Jane’s this weekend, I followed up with “Sweetheart, Jane’s not feeling well and she needs to rest up and feel better this weekend.” Not too far of a stretch as she was, in fact, supposed to be resting and taking care of herself. The answer sufficed and we had a good weekend. Although it did throw a kink and we had to find a last minute babysitter as we had an appointment to go tour the wedding venue.

So what I really want to talk about is that at first I felt kind of bad. Not for her, but because I didn’t really give a damn, and that the first thought that came to my head that I really wanted to say was “You get back what you dish out and Karma is a bitch, especially when it come back to bite you in the ass.” Then I tried to turn it around. Would she give a damn if something happened to me? Hell, does she even know that I was rushed to the emergency room when I got stung by a bee earlier this year? (Flight Of The Bee entry.) Of course not, because she has no responsibility for the boys, why would I getting hurt effect her life? So I reasoned with myself that I didn’t have to feel bad about NOT giving a damn about her. It's not like I was hoping something bad would happen to her.

My concern in all of this was, just exactly what would we tell the boys if things had gone in the other direction. How would they feel if it had? I really didn't want to scare and worry them with bad news that might not be bad news. Luckily, at this point, I don’t have to worry about it. But the opportunity has risen, and the next time something happens (if something else happens – hopefully not) I hope I’ll be a bit more prepared. The one prayer I did say for Jane was I hoped that she would see the light. I hope that this experience scared her enough to maybe consider that the boys mean more to her than she has been acting.

I’ve been at that point where something happened that scared me enough to see a light and make some changes. I can’t change Jane. I can’t make her change her actions. I can only hope that this experience will have, just maybe, helped to guide her in the right direction to want to be a better mother and to want to be a better person.