Unraveled

N (aka the child formerly known as R) came by this evening and - while the sun was still out - brought up some topics of conversation that were not in and of themselves really anything that dramatic. He is just a 21 year old trying to figure out things the same way we all did then, and most of us still do.

But it's hard for me to stay detached, and would be equally counter productive if I let loose with the knee-jerk emotional responses I have to some things. Middle ground is difficult, and makes me feel tired and defeated.

I pulled out the knitting project I'd started not long ago. N. and S. have both been so very patient in teaching me. I seem to be painstakingly slow and stupid about knitting. Tonight I took the first five or so rows I'd done - with horrible mistakes in them - out completely to start over. N. said he's considering starting HRT. The last time I sat next to him, knitting, he showed me his new fore-arm covering tattoo. I joked tonight that I'm going to have PTSD from this kind of knitting experience. I restarted the scarf three times while speaking with him at the dining room table as the sun set.

"You're too much of perfectionist for this," N. said, meaning the knitting. All I could think was that it applied to the parenting, too.