That Call

The pit in my stomach came after I ate dinner last night. It was time to make the phone call. After some small talk, it came down to the point of my phone call.

"Yeah, you're child is rotten to the core, and I'll be unable to care for him any longer."

No, that's what I thought. Here's what I said.

"After much thought, and two weeks of calm and harmony, I've decided to take steps to make my life a little less stressful. And your child is causing some of the stress." Yes, I said that.

And I went on a little further. About how busy and crazy my life was about to become, and how her part-time child was not benefiting from all the full-time discipline that I'm jonesing to administer to him.

The mother sat on the other line and did not utter a word, or a sound.

So I continued, as I had a captive audience. For five minutes I waxed on about how 5 months of unemployment and misbehaving children such as hers had took me to the edge.

Still nothing.

I stopped talking.

" Really?" she asked. "Effective when?"

" I'll be here for you for another couple of weeks till you can find a replacement, I said.


" I see," she said. " Yes, you need to do what's best for your family."

Silence.

More silence.

And this is where the stages of grief took hold. From denial and bargaining we were starting to morph into pain, and depression.

"Shirley, I said. "Shirley, are you there?"

Silence.

"Boooo hooooooo hooooo hooooo."

She was crying, hysterically.

"Shirley, are you crying?" I asked.

Yes, she was crying.

"Shirley, why are you crying?"

"I am scared, " she said.

At this point I asked her if she was scared of finding daycare, scared of the future, scared of what? Personally, I would be scared for the grave vocational error her master's degree toting husband had made teaching at a low-paying private school. She told me that she was scared because she has to work financially, albeit it's only 2 hours a day.

I felt for her. I really did. But I didn't make the choice to do God's work and live on the edge of financial solvency (she once explained her and her husband teaching at the Lutheran school as a sacrifice to God.)

It was then the anger stage took hold.

"Fine. I'll be in touch. Good night," Shirley chirped.

Click.

I have no regrets. No guilt. Just peaceful, blissful acceptance.