right now I am having a hard time pulling out that joy and optimism and contentment that usually keeps me in place, grounded. I find myself jealous — of my sons friends who have “millionaire” parents who give their thirtysomething kids everything — trips and down payments for houses — you name it, anything. Jealous of families who don’t have mental illness and single parenting and health issues to deal with. Jealous of people who get to stay home, and people with super jobs. Jealous . Jealous. Jealous. Feeling sorry for myself these days. My son, who has raised his daughter pretty much alone for the whole 4 years of her life, is embroiled in a custody battle with her mother — who after leaving that child at 6 months, who after spending more time out of her life than in it, has now decided she is a parent and is making ridiculous demands and taking my granddaughter out of town on fathers day…is hurting, and I want to fix it. I cant. I cant. and I hate that I cant. My granddaughter, who learned to walk in her daddys living room, who spent many nights in the crib in her room in my house….isn’t going to see her daddy on Fathers day. Now, my son, who is obviously more mature than me, said Mom, its not a big deal, she and I will have Father’s Day tomorrow , on Saturday. Its our day mom, we can do it whenever we want. And that makes my heart break as much as the fact that he will wake up on Fathers day and for the first time ever, that baby wont be in her bed in the room next to his. Damn Hallmark.