Apparently you’re supposed to make lemonade, but I’d rather just take to the interwebs with all my woes. You’re welcome.

What’s the latest in Jones Family woes, you didn’t ask? Well, here I am to tell you anyway. One Jack Jones has moved home. Back from the school of baseball. Why you ask? Oh, just a minor high grade to complete tear of the ulnar collateral ligament. What’s that you ask? The UCL is a ligament that runs on the inner side of the elbow to help support it when performing certain motions, such as throwing. So a high grade to complete tear of said ligament in the inner elbow kinda puts a giant halt on things such as baseball and baseball school and happiness of one 15 year old young man. It’s me, with the dramatics, yet again.

To say I’ve given up on angelic Ash getting his angelic head of out his angelic ass and protecting his babies would be the understatement of 2025. I have beyond given up because obviously he has some more pressing business to which he needs to attend. Probably hasn’t left the heavenly golf course yet. He’d just better hope I don’t die any time soon because we are going to HAVE. SOME. WORDS. if I do.

Anyway, let’s circle back. I took Jack to a showcase camp back in December. He had been complaining of some arm pain but I didn’t really think much of it because it’s hard to tell sometimes when a teen is complaining if this is a real complaint or a lazy, I don’t feel like doing this shit, give me a fucking break complaint. He did well at camp. Got some good reviews. Made some kind of all American team or some such shit that he was super excited about. This was over Christmas break. I took him back to school, shed some tears saying goodbye and started that stupid job we’ve previously discussed.

Well, the complaining didn’t stop. In fact, his arm was hurting so much he actually took himself to the trainer on campus with his complaints after throwing a bull pen and hearing a slight “pop” in his elbow. The trainer scheduled an appointment with a sports medicine doctor? enthusiast? I don’t know but it happened to be on Martin Luther King day so I was able to go with him. She did an x-ray, and I shit you not, his elbow looked totally cracked (I’m not sports medicine enthusiast but I have stayed at a Holiday Inn Express so….). She didn’t seem all that alarmed about it but I’m pretty sure that was just a strong poker face meant to keep moms like me from freaking the fuck out. She wanted to do an x-ray on the other elbow to compare until I pointed out that they will certainly not look anything alike as that elbow already has a screw, washer and perhaps a partridge in a pear tree in it. So an MRI was scheduled for the following week. Luckily for me, it snowed about eleventy hundred inches in my little beach town and I didn’t have to show my face at the little jobby job so was able to very slowly haul my ass to Charlotte to be part of the MRI. Not that that was really necessary, but as a mama bear, it felt very necessary. The results were in within a couple of hours. “High-grade to complete tear of the ulnar collateral ligament at its mid portion”. Fuck. A. Duck.

Now, as always, I know, in the grand scheme of things, everything will be just fine. Even if his baseball career is over forever (which, also, I know, it very likely won’t be), everything is ok. HOWEVER, HOW MUCH FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING BULL SHIT CAN ONE KID POSSIBLY GO THROUGH? This is his 3rd consecutive year of life altering physical injury. (We won’t mention the dead dad and all the emotional toll that has had on him, except for the fact that I just did). This is the first time his baseball season has been affected. And, obviously, for us, baseball is life. My kid is tough as nails. Because he’s had to be. Because life is not fair. To any of us. I know that. It just feels like (again, I’m dramatic, I know we have it pretty fucking good, but this is my blog and I’ll complain if I want to) he keeps getting shit on. Again. And again. And again. And again. And as a mom, who also moonlights as quite the bitch baby, I’m fucking devastated, pissed off, overly emotional, questioning every fucking thing and wondering why him? Is his adulthood just going to be fucking seamless? The most perfect life that anyone ever had? Because I honestly feel like if anyone deserves it, it’s him. It’s just too fucking much. Aside from literal breaks, when can the kid catch a fucking break? I can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. I know what I see and it breaks my fucking heart. What’s left of it anyway.

Surgery is scheduled for March. They tried to make me wait until spring break because “this isn’t an emergency.” That’s what the scheduler had the audacity to say to me. To which I very bitchily replied in my high ass squeaky chipmunk bitch voice, “maybe not to you”. So March 6th it is. They won’t know until they cut him open the extent of the tear/surgery – ie full on Tommy John or reconstruction of the torn ligament. His recovery could be anywhere from 6 months to a year or more. And I know, I’ve heard it all. At least it’s his freshman year and not his junior or senior year. And he’ll come back stronger. And everything happens for a reason. And a very immature part of me wants to reply to all of that with suck my proverbial dick. (I never said I was a classy lady.) But luckily my filter has been working in over drive and I’ve been keeping most of my intrusive thoughts to myself. Until now that is. I’m just beyond frustrated and broken hearted for my boy. He’s started school back home. He’s going to baseball practice for our hometown team. Which, sure is great that they’re allowing him to be a part of it, but also sucks. He can’t do shit. Just watch.

I don’t meant to complain (yes I do). We all have shit. Life is not easy for anyone. He will bounce back. Everything will be ok. I know all of this. But knowing the shit doesn’t make going through the shit any easier. I’m gonna pass on the lemonade. Just straight bitching for me, thank you.