Bobby is still on his nocturnal outdoor time, and he prowls the house, crying, while we’re trying to sleep, the phone rings at 7:20. Not a good thing to hear.
It’s the care center where mom is. They ask to speak with me.
“You’re mama was smoking in her room this morning, did you give her cigarettes?”
No, we didn’t give her any cigarettes. I was told they took away her lighter (WTF?) and told her not to smoke in the room. And if we brought her cigarettes, to give them to the desk and not to mom.
Brian and I think she got them from one of the other patients. She doesn’t have that many visitors.
Brian will bring this up with her, though, not me. And when she gets defensive and says they shouldn’t have called us and tattled on her, he’ll tell her they were just doing their job and she’s the one at fault.
If she does this with cigarettes now, what will she do with beer when she’s back on her own?
I won’t go through this again if it’s because of drinking. I just won’t do it. She’ll be on her own.