wild and crazy day…ummm…several days

Saturday, maybe, odd phone calls started coming in–no Caller ID, collect, but no info. I figured Stacie had been transferred out for processing, but hadn’t stopped to check it out.
The calls continued Sunday, Monday, and today…
I stopped answering.
Last night I had WMU after working at baking bread all day and cleaning.
Today I had FM. Shandi had a hair cut scheduled and a nail appointment. She had never had a manicure and I felt she deserved one.
I’m waiting out in the car so as not to smell the chemicals when I see my little church friend who was in the wreck waddle into the salon. I get out and follow her. While I"m in there, phone rings with the No Caller ID, then it rings again with a Laurel, Ms. number. I answer and it’s Roy, looking for his truck keys. His dad has bailed him out of jail and he wants his truck. I hand the phone to Shandi, she tells him where they are, I give permission for him to get them and he rudely hangs up.

Finally we are done with nails, run my grocery and pick up a few things, Ana begins texting wanting hot dogs and the makings for s’mores and I"m not into all that, so I get what I can and rush home. Roy is still there. I sure was hoping he would be gone, but no… he’s there, thin as a rail, looks bad to be honest and talking non stop.

Now I’ve already sat in the salon with Diane’s SIL who talks non stop …I’ve already put up with this frustrating calls for days, I"m about ready to pop and now I’m listening to him go on and on.

Finally he leaves to go see about getting his phone turned on, Shandi and I head to Walmart–we didn’t make Al-anon, we were both too stressed to be honest and tired having been up since 5.
So now Roy is here, for the night anyway. He plans to try to get a job and prove his innocence.

When we come back, I check the Ms. Department of Corrections website and yep, Stacie has been sent to Rankin county for processing. I printed out the page with all her info on it and then it really hit me that I have a second child with a record, an inmate number, gosh it hurts even with all the alanon under my belt. Can’t change it, can’t change her, can only change me.

I had such hopes for her back in the day. They are all dashed, have been for a long time. I just didn’t want to say it out loud.

Time will tell.
I’m tired. Heading to bed.

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