This isn't what I expected from today (A rant. You have been warned.)

And it's early yet.

As I begin this post, the time is 8:40 a.m.

Superman left about an hour ago to visit his family in northwest Georgia. That's south of where the winter weather is, but smack in middle of lots of rain. I resent that he is going, which is totally not fair. I was gone for six days last week. He hasn't seen his family in a few months, and his Dad's birthday was two weeks ago. He intended to visit them the weekend before Thanksgiving, but shit happened and the trip was postponed until now. All very well and good. I want him to see his Dad, celebrate his Dad's birthday. My dad didn't get to have a birthday this year, and Superman's dad is even less healthy (we thought) than my dad.

I expected Superman to leave this morning. But I expected him to be here for a little while after the kids left for school so we could have some quality time together, whatever form that took. Diva shook that plan all to hell.

Diva, as you may recall, wets the bed. Still. At 16 years old. (She turned 16 two days ago.) Her birthday week has been fraught with bullshit drama. The latest shit is piss. Not on her air mattress, which she uses because she wets the bed and air mattresses are made of plastic, a generally waterproof substance. For reasons known only to her (and I use the term "reason" sarcastically) she got the foam mattress that I fixed up for our daybed/cot thing. Light used it when she was here over Thanksgiving, and we hadn't put it back in the attic yet. I spent much effort making a fabric cover for the piece of foam, and it fits the cot beautifully. Stupid Diva took her air mattress off her bed last night and used the foam instead. And son of a gun, she wet the bed. The foam bed. With fabric cover permanently sewn on, not easy to remove, no zipper or anything.

And I'm very angry at her. Superman is, too. Any plans for cuddly together time are superseded by frustration. Again. This happens all too often, and I resent it. I resent her. And now Superman is gone until Monday and I'm stuck at home all the long weekend with The Bitch Diva.

Diva has been acting the bitch for days (weeks?) now. She has quit doing her work at school and is failing all her classes. This after passing everything on her latest report card. Actually, she has a high B in math, F in everything else. WTF? We had an IEP (Individual Education Plan) meeting with/for her on Wednesday (her birthday). She was sullen and uncooperative. Put her head down on the table and refused to participate. Idiot.

Last Saturday Superman took her to the phone store and got her a new phone. A smart phone, no less. Do you know what kind of trouble a bitch like that can get into with a smart phone? A lot. She hasn't had a phone in months because she broke the last one. Being stupid and bitchy. (Do I sound angry? I am.) Monday or Tuesday Superman discovered that the bitch has been "sexting" at least three different guys. What age are these fellas? I'm not sure, but the last guy she flirted with on facebork was in his early 30s, so I'm suspicious. We took her phone away again on Wednesday.

She's been telling people at school that she's pregnant. Again. Not pregnant again, but again saying she is. She isn't pregnant. I take her to the gyno every three months like clockwork for her to get her Depo injection. The Bitch ain't gonna get pregnant on my watch if I can help it. Abstinence won't work, that's for damn sure. (Not that it's effective for the general teen population, but that's a political discussion that I don't want to have right now.) Anyway, there was some drama surrounding the pregnancy rumor that SHE started. Somebody called her on it, demanded to see her ultrasound pictures. The other pregnant girl in the class had ultrasound pics of her baby. Where is Diva's? "In my aunt's car." (She doesn't have any aunts living within 250 miles of here.) Yeah, they called her on her bullshit and she got spastic, as she is prone to do. Caused a scene, got obnoxious with the teacher, was written up and sent to the office.

Which resulted in the punishment of spending the day in In School Suspension (ISS). Which was to be served yesterday. Superman took her to school yesterday morning, and he had "a talk" with her about her recent behavior, so she was in a mood. She told him she was going to get herself suspended. Which she did. She refused to go to ISS. So she was sent home. Gee, thanks. Superman brought her home, and she almost immediately left. In the rain. Alone. To walk to the emergency room because she didn't feel well. WTF? She called to tell him she was at the ER. He went to get her and there was a bit of a scene in the ER waiting room. What's new? Superman handled himself remarkably well. He gave her choices. She goes with him, or he calls the police. Her choice. She chose wisely this time.

We have a primary care physician, you know? She feels a bit sick, we take her to our doctor. The ER isn't necessary. She's all about drama, though, and her stupid friends all have Medicaid and use the ER for everything. She didn't even tell her dad (or me, but she didn't talk to me at all) that she felt sick. Anyway he took her to our doctor's office. Turns out she is sick; she has a urinary tract infection. OK fine. Now she's on antibiotic. Which I suspect she didn't take this morning. I have to go look, and if she didn't take her meds this morning before she went to school I have to take them to her. This will not improve my mood or my opinion of her.

I don't know. There's more. As I was reviewing this missive I thought of a couple of other things to add. For instance, her aunts that live 250 or 500 miles away from here won't claim her anyway. She has put me and her dad through so much shit she's basically been punted from the extended family. Now that my dad is dead, my mom is the only one who recognizes her on her birthday or Christmas. And Mama doesn't want to see her. Mama is a good woman. She tries to do the right thing, but with Diva it's hard to know how much to participate in her life without putting oneself in danger. That's the shit of it all.

She was a total bitch (Diva, not my mother) over the weekend and the beginning of this week. Then Wednesday was her birthday and the last thing I wanted to do was be nice to her. But I try to do the right thing. You know we had her party about 5 weeks ago when she wanted it, right before Halloween. Tuesday night after she went to bed I pulled out the two frozen cake layers left over from the fancy cake I made for her party. I went to the store and bought a birthday card* and frosting, frosted the cake all pretty pink and strawberry flavored for her. Wednesday morning she seemed to appreciate it. Wednesday afternoon at the IEP meeting her teacher was telling us how she told her friends in class how we dissed her, didn't do anything for her for her birthday, etc. What the fuck ever.

I've been ranting for an hour. I need to check the bitch's meds, see if she took them this morning, and probably need to make a trip to the school. FML.

Here are the pictures of the cake I made for her party.

 The top layer is a spider web, middle layer a grave yard with Kit-Kat fence. (I love Kit-Kats!)

 And the bottom layer is a pumpkin patch. 

I did the vines and leaves with a piping bag and decorator tips. It was fun. All her friends thought it was the bomb. By now she doesn't give a shit because I am a shit mother and she knows everything and is always right while I'm always wrong. Raising teenagers is shitty business. 

P.S. Yes, I have to take her meds to the school. You figured I would, right? 

*Picking out a card was HARD!! I got a "for our daughter from mom and dad" thing. There were so many cards that said happy b'day to our wonderful daughter, we love you so much, enjoy spending time with you, you are so precious, etc. BULL SHIT!! I could not in good conscience get a card like that. The one I got was kinda pushing the envelope (pun intended) but wasn't too over the top. Oh, and she got super mad at me on Thursday, cut the card to pieces and delivered it back to me. We gave her the card and cake Wednesday morning because Superman and I had a dinner date Wednesday night and wouldn't be here. She got pissed about that, too, but hell, Bitch! What makes you think any of us would enjoy spending time together on your birthday with you acting like such a bitch? The only enjoyment you'd receive is the fun you have making our lives miserable.

In which we discuss death, among other things

My son Twitch called me. Twitch, who has chronic depression. He called to tell me, among other things, that he hates tourists (he now lives in Charleston, SC, a popular tourist destination) but has told me previously that he loves living in Charleston. He told me he's sure he was born on the wrong planet. The universe made a mistake in placing him here. He hates his life. He wonders if there is a way to remove all the nose hairs from his nose without pain. Why? I ask him. Because they are bugging me, he says. Increase your pain tolerance. I recommend that he not use Nair™ in that sensitive mucous membrane. He wants to live in a place with a low cost of living and excellent public transportation and cultural opportunities. But not on this planet, evidently. It was a whine fest conversation. I said "I gave birth to you on this planet." I wanted to say more, something like STFU!, but all I could do was sigh. Then I hung up on him. I don't have the energy for that shit today.

Warning: I'm about to write about death and suicide. 
Before he called I read an article in The New Yorker by David Sedaris, written about his sister Tiffany's recent suicide. It's a very good article, but then we are talking about David Sedaris who is an excellent writer. Back to Twitch, who is dissatisfied with his life and has been for much of it. And David Sedaris' sister Tiffany who evidently was dissatisfied with her life. I have long feared that Twitch will take that exit ramp from life. Today my brain says to me "What if he does? How will that affect you?" Of course I would be ... what word describes an extreme form of upset? On the other hand, I'd know he was out of the misery of this life. Who was it said something like death is the greatest adventure? Some famous philosopher or something. I have often considered suicide myself, a few times seriously. It's something I think about, abstractly, often. Right now I have decided not to kill myself because I wonder what will happen in my life as I get older. What kind of old lady will I be? I have to live long enough to be an old lady to find out. How old is "old?" Well into my 70s, at least, and probably to my mid to late 80s. 90s? Maybe. Depends on how healthy I am.

While we're speaking of death, I'd like to discuss my father's death. I might have gone through this before in this venue, but I need to rehash it. He died on March 25th of this year. Too early, I thought. But now I think it was right on time. I believe that things happen for a reason most of the time. Also, there isn't anything I can do about it anyway. He's dead and nothing will change that. I miss him. I've been thinking of him more frequently of late. Daddy did not want to "linger" incapacitated and be a burden to his family. After he died I learned that he had begun to lose his mental faculties. He'd become increasingly forgetful in a senile dementia sort of way. His compromised heart and consequent decreased oxygen to the brain might have been a factor there. But it frustrated and frightened him, I know. No, he didn't tell me this, but I know him well enough. I just know. And now he's free of this world's limitations. I am happy for him, I guess. No one knows for sure what if anything comes after this life, but we like to think it's pleasant. If he's in a "better place" then good for him. As for the rest of us, we'll deal. What else is there to do?

I followed a link from a link in a link in an email to this site called Tunein. It's online radio, or something like it. I am currently listening to French programming. Programming in French, though I think not from France itself. If I remember correctly, it originates in Brussels, Belgium. It's talk radio, and I have no idea what they're talking about but it sounds really cool. I know a few French words, and catch some meaning here and there. In the last program the voices said "et cetera" a lot. A few programs ago some ladies were talking about Pre-zee-'dent O-ba-'ma. Right now they're playing some kind of new age-y music featuring lots of bells. Related quote: "New Agers might be whack, but they do make some nice music." - Superman. I'd like to learn French some day. Maybe when I am an old lady.

And speaking of whack, Diva. Let's entertain ourselves with another Diva story. Just today the child was telling us that we need to meet her boyfriend, get the embarrassment over with. Yeah, whatever. She was using Superman's phone to text the guy. Superman took his phone with him to run errands and the alleged boyfriend texted back. Superman asks who this is, and the guy got defensive saying something like wha' chu mean who am I? So Superman said it was his phone, his daughter had been texting. Yada yada, the point is that Diva was communicating with a much older guy (don't know how old) and had told him she was 20 years old (she'll be 16 in about six weeks) and in college, living by herself in her own house. Superman corrected the misinformation. The poor ersatz boyfriend was freaked out about being "played" like that, and assured Superman that he has absolutely no desire to be involved with anyone that young.

Why does she tell lies like that, string innocent people along, legally endangering them? She's whack, obviously, but really. Superman had a talk with her when he got home from running his errands. Then I fussed at her for a while. Don't know if it will make any difference. I asked her if she understands how she could have ruined his life if she'd followed through with her story and gotten physically involved with him. He'd be labeled a sex offender FOR LIFE and wouldn't be able to get much of a job, get housing in very many places, etc. Ruin his life, basically. She stared at me like I was yammering to the wind. Whack, I tell you. (OK, so obviously my word for the day is "whack.") Oh, she also gave him our address. This isn't the first time she'd done shit like this. A couple of years ago I answered a phone call from another guy in his 30s, if I recall correctly, who she was stringing along with lies of this nature. She'd given him our address, too. She has no sense.

Another Diva story, this one not so ... whack. She wanted to have a combination birthday/Halloween party, celebrate her b'day early because it's too cold in early December to have a party outside. The kids had a day off school Friday (teacher workday, end of grading period) so we did the party thing in the pavillion at the local Parks and Rec center. I made a cake. It looked awesome, and tasted so-so. I used box mixes of her desired flavors. I took pictures. (Long side note: I have a new-ish camera because my old one that I knew how to use got dunked with me in the river when I was canoeing with my brothers after my dad's non-funeral party. The new camera has a big square battery reminiscent of a cell phone battery. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to recharge it or replace it. Probably it's rechargeable, but I don't know how to do that. I took a few pictures on Friday before the camera lost power.) Due to the otherwise dark theme of this post, I won't add the pictures now. Also, I haven't downloaded them from the camera yet.

Game 4 of the (small, only North America) World Series is about to start, so I'm outa here. Cards ahead 2 games to 1 over the Red Sox. Boo-yah!