The Bitch Is Back

We got a call from Diva early this afternoon. Superman and I were with friends near Charlotte, NC when the call came in. Diva says Janice kicked her out of the house. Janice says Diva got pissed about having to do chores and live with all those siblings, packed up her own stuff and said she's leaving. Stupid stuff, no matter how you slice it. I don't believe Diva, not sure I believe Janice either. No matter, we are responsible for her care as long as she is a minor. December 4th, 2015 she's 18 and NOT OUR PROBLEM anymore.

Diva says she needs to stay here for two days until she can move in with a friend here in Greenwood. I have no idea how those plans are progressing. My guess is that said friend doesn't know about the plan. We'll see. If she has to stay here, though, she'll go to school. We also aren't going to put up with the shit she's dealt us for so long. Things are going to change. Heaven and all the saints above and below give me strength to stand my ground.

I'm still supposed to be taking it easy, recovering from this surgery. Stress doesn't help. I took an Ativan (benzodiazepine) before we left our friends' place. I'm about to take another one now. I intend to stay as chillaxed as possible while she's here. If she is still here Monday, I'll go on the war path or something.

I don't have a good feeling about this.

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.

The bitch is back

Wasn't that last post so nice and uplifting? Or something. This one is not like that one.

Diva is home from school today, suspended for the day. She only got one day this time, and only because she wouldn't go to the in-school suspension room yesterday. As I heard it, someone heard her say a cuss word in the cafeteria before school and reported her to the boogie man. She denies saying the cuss word. Yes, she said the sentence, but didn't put the cuss word in it that the witness claims was there. Knowing this child, I think she probably said the cuss word. Anyway, she feels wrongly accused, and refused to take the punishment. So she's home today to punish me. I hate this policy.

I'm trying to make her life miserable, though. OK, not completely, not specifically, not generally. I am, however, giving her chores to do and not acting very friendly. She's slamming stuff around, being aggressively angry toward stuff. Thankfully she isn't aggressive toward me. So far. She's pissing me off, though. I started the day pissed off simply because she is here instead of at school.

Coping strategies so far include surfing the web, writing this post, and eating two small dishes of chocolate pudding. In reserve I have drugs and booze. If it gets really bad I'll take my Ativan. If it's bad but not drug use bad, I'll drink a beer. Or two. Or three. Also, there may be a nap in my future.

Really uncomfortable cramps complicate the situation. Damn, I want to pinch her little head off. On the plus side, she swept and vacuumed the kitchen, living room, and halls. She did a mediocre job of it, but it's better than it was.

I avoid my problems by sleeping. When I get emotionally stressed I get very, very sleepy. This used to happen all the time in the earlier years of our marriage when we'd visit his parents. Being around his mother put me to sleep, and not because she is a boring person. She isn't boring, but her idea of interesting is my idea of stress. My least favorite mode of interesting is criticizing the son and daughter-in-law and/or their children. To make matters worse, her other grandchildren, the daughters of her daughter and son-in-law, are perfect. The now-ex- son-in-law got lots of criticism, though. I spell it s-t-r-e-s-s.

I don't like the way these sentences go together in the paragraphs. There are sentences that do not belong with the others, but I'm too sleepy to fix them. In a further example, this is an art thing. Or a failure thing. For the past few days (weeks?) I have started some project or other and been frustrated with the outcome. I have the idea in my head, but the process of producing it gets messed up somewhere. A simple circle in a square becomes a rat's nest. A stack of blocks becomes entangled in string that isn't supposed to be there. Perhaps I'm too focused on the process and not the product, so the process gets in the way.

Well, that last paragraph was helpful. Thank you. I feel a bit less strung up.