This morning my house was unusually quiet. I stood in the shower, trying to remember the steps to washing my hair. When I was done I stood naked in my bedroom and wondered if my oldest daughter is in as much pain as I am.
Oh, I'm sure she is sore and bruised, just like me. As for her heart, I highly doubt it feels anything but triumph.
She started an all out brawl with me. We volleyed control back and forth, physically, for more than 10 minutes before I restrained her. Even after I let her up, she came at me again.
When the police came, they took our statements in private. I still don't know what she said to them. I thought it would be another case of me filing battery charges, and them telling her to go to her room and stay there.
Instead, they came and asked me was there someone who could care for my kids. I was going to be arrested. She tried to destroy my property and throw me around my house, but I was going to jail? Why? Because she cried harder?
I called my brother to come get Itty Bit. I called my best friend to come take possession of my side arm. I explained to Itty Bit what was going on. Told her not to worry. If the police asked her questions, to tell the truth. Don't tell any lies because she thinks it will protect mommy. And then I waited.
The officer came back and asked me some more questions. When it was all said and done, they transported DQ to a short term group home.
I guess no one told her I wasn't getting arrested. It was with satisfaction and glee that she informed me I was being arrested for assault. The smile on her face was pure evil. I didn't have the heart to tell her the police changed their minds, and decided she was the crazy one. I let her go on thinking I was going to jail.
I'm certain DQ is feeling quite content with herself. In the little home for girls where she can watch TV, go on outings and eat junk food. Content but no sorrow.
I'll bare that weight for her.