It's primarily bad children, though

So much has happened in the 23 hours since my last post. Holy shit.

Currently listening to this.

Except of course I don't feel fine. Half way through a bottle of Martini Asti sparkling wine (cheap shit, my favorite!) and am feeling better in some respects. 

But seriously, what the fuck can I do with these trolls? Let me see if I can catch you guys up on all the unfortunate drama. 

Superman got home last evening around 8, maybe? Not sure. I'd closed my eyes to rest but wasn't fully asleep. Neither of the trolls was home, which is good and bad. They weren't actively annoying me, but I didn't know where they were and was concerned about their welfare. Go figure. Also pissed at them. Sproing is grounded, dammit, but he's gone. Diva is just a wild bitch and I don't trust her.

So Superman decided it was time to call the police to report them missing or runaways. They found Diva in Abbeville staying with her boyfriend. I am vaguely aware she has someone she calls a boyfriend, but I don't know who this kid is. Her dad and I specifically told her Friday night that she could NOT go to Abbeville. We both tried to call her but her phone went directly to voice mail and she didn't return any calls. So anyway, the police found her, went to the home where she was staying and took her to the Abbeville police department. That pissed her off, believe me! Embarrassed her in front of her boyfriend and his uncle. hee hee. Serves her right. We had to drive to Abbeville to bring her home. At midnight. After Superman hadn't had any significant sleep for approximately 40 hours. He felt like shit. I drove.

Sproing came home while we were out retrieving his sister. We called the police officer who was managing this fiasco to let him know everyone was home now. He came over and gave a nice little lecture to the kids. It did no good, of course. They can ignore grownups with alacrity. I added my two cents because my two cents is worth a lot more and they should listen to the wisdom of their mother. Dammit, their mother is fuckin' wise! They are missing out on a good thing here, right Light? I know useful shit, don't I?

But I digress. Cut to today. Sproing got up this morning and his dad gave him some tasks to do. Sproing talked back to his dad, made some snarky comment, and Superman smacked him upside the head. Sproing spouted off disrespectfully again, so Superman smacked him again and knocked him over. Sproing then got up and did what his dad told him to do, thank you sir.

I made a detailed list of things for Diva to do in the kitchen. By 2:00 I still hadn't seen her so I sent Dad to check. She was still in her piss soaked bed. Godallmighty it stinks in there! I'm not sure what Superman told her to do, but she didn't like it so she called the case manager to complain that her parents are unfit. Or something. I am not sure. Then I think she threatened to call the police, to which Superman replied "go ahead." And she did. Two young men from the city police department came out to interview Diva and Superman, separately. Superman told them exactly what happened. Yes, he smack the kid twice, and the kid fell down the second time. The kid got smacked for being disrespectful. OK, fine. The other officer talked to Diva. Don't know what she told him. Then both of the officers spoke to our next door neighbor. I have no idea what that was about. Superman told me what had transpired, and I decided I needed to talk to the officers myself.

Well, I went through the living room and there was Diva. I asked her something, can't now remember what. What do you think you're doing? maybe? Anyway, she got all sassy with me. I told her no, she is my child and she does what I want. She said that she told the officers that her daddy had threatened to hit her. I asked her if she told them that she had assaulted me? Oh, they don't need to know that. Pissed me off. So I went out to speak to the officers. Superman and Diva joined me.

(Update: All 750 ml of sparkling wine is now on the inside of me.)

We had a little powwow. I told the officers that Diva has a bad attitude. I explained what happened earlier in the weekend - Friday night through Saturday night, with her running away and the police getting involved. She said she doesn't want to stay here. I said I don't want her here, either, but it is our responsibility to make sure she is properly cared for. Oh, get this, she told the officers that she feels stressed being here. HA!!! What a hoot! I feel stressed too, bitch. Put on your big girl panties and get to work. Bitch. I told her and the officers that I was not going to just let her go anywhere without making sure she is properly cared for and supervised. I also told the officers that she is on a lot of medication, and as a parent it is my responsibility to see that she gets medical care. When she left Friday she didn't take her medicine, and missed her Sat. morning dose as well. I asked if she'd taken her meds today, and she said no. Right. I pointed out that some of these meds have withdrawal symptoms if stopped suddenly, and some of her feelings might be due to that. So take your damned medicine bitch!

Then these two fine young men with the Greenwood Police Department proceeded to give her yet another lecture about how she is a child and must obey her parents. She's got it good now. Her parents care about her and are taking good care of her. She is powerless until she turns 18. She needs to obey us. The real world is a lot uglier than this. Et cetera. She didn't like that much, but had the sense to keep her mouth shut. Last time I saw her she was in the kitchen doing what I told her to do. I told Superman to keep me away from her because I want to smack the shit out of her. I want to kick her into next year. I am very angry.

Superman is working on the sink cabinet for the hall bathroom. The bathroom that has been in various stages of remodel for, what, five years now? The sink cabinet is one of the last things to do. He's actually working on it now. I am pleased about that. Perhaps this week we will have a sink in the bathroom. I hope so.

Sparkling wine doesn't seem to like my intestines. Or vise-verse.

I need a break. Yes, I still need to run away. I'm working on a plan. Might run away twice. Perhaps I can take a couple of days, maybe three, away from home this week. But I need a long trip. That won't happen until  after school is out for the summer probably. I don't know yet. We shall see. I want to visit some blog friends in various places along the east coast.

That's what I know now.

On Being Trespassed Against

I am a very forgiving person. It's nearly impossible for me to hold a grudge. Nearly. But not entirely. To do so requires that the transgressor hurt me very much, probably repeatedly.

And she has.

Superman and I attended a meeting last Friday concerning Diva, who is almost finished with her term of probation. We met with a few service providers to revise her mental healthcare treatment plan. Besides us, the attendees included the local representative from the state department overseeing the care of emotionally disturbed children, Diva's counselor from the department of mental health, her Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ) probation "counselor"*, and the young woman who provides rehabilitative psycho-social services. To review: Me, Superman, that woman, that woman, the young woman, and the other lady. To give you perspective, we are older than all these other women. Our children, including the one who was the subject of the meeting, are older than the children of these other women. One of the ladies doesn't have children. They are all trained and educated about children, though, so doesn't that make us feel better. (No)

I'll cut to the ridiculous part. To boost Diva's confidence, it was decided around us that we should surprise Diva with a celebration for not breaking the law for these past months since October when she was released from the DJJ evaluation center. That nice woman is bringing a cake. We'll provide the ice cream. This will happen on Tuesday afternoon. The probation counselor will bring the paperwork officially ending Diva's probation. Only her counselor will not be able to attend, but all the other ladies will be there. Honestly, I'm not feeling it.

To her credit, Diva controls some of her impulses better than she did before. She hasn't struck out violently since she assaulted me in September. She'll cuss like a sailor with the slightest provocation, but she hasn't hit anyone as far as I am aware. She can't disagree with us without screaming in our faces. That gets really tiring very quickly.

Friday was the end of a very difficult week for us. On Tuesday Diva and I got into an argument about her having a cell phone. (We told her she couldn't, she bought a cheapo one anyway). I tried and failed to cook hamburgers, resulting in a visit from the nice local firemen. No flames, just a lot of smoke and a security system that alerts the powers-that-be to said smoke. Thursday I got insanely mad at Sproing for ruining my chance to go out for the evening with my lovely husband. By Friday I was convinced I couldn't parent these maniacs anymore. Cut to the meeting where well-meaning but clueless young women tell us how to parent these maniacs.

I cried. I railed. I told all of them that we just can't handle it anymore. Well, shit, they don't want to handle these little fuckers any more than we do. Their collective goal is to keep this wonderful family together. Shit. They said Very Encouraging Things. They said that much of what our 14 year olds do is fairly typical; the rebellion, the snitty attitudes, the backtalk, the lack of respect. Humph. I've already raised two children to adulthood, and neither of them had behavior this intense. Though at a very rough spot in my life when Twitch was 14 or 15 one of his tantrums pushed me over the edge (I was damned close already) and I spent a few days in the psych ward at the hospital. I am much better medicated now. Nevertheless, Twitch at his worst was nothing like this. (Light at her worst was hardly a bump in the road, but that's Light.)

Back to the point: Young Women said Diva and Sproing's behavior isn't atypical. Then one of them said "though most parents haven't dealt with this intensity for 7 years." Bingo! Diva committed her first felony at the tender age of 9. Sproing was a holy terror for his 2nd grade teacher, and I was at school more often than not. And his behavior at school wasn't much different from what we experienced at home. It's been the same shit, different day, for years and years and years.

I don't think about all of that very often. I can't if I want to survive today.

Remember that part about Diva assaulting me? When she punched me repeatedly in the chest and back, leaving bruises? And hasn't apologized for it? And doesn't show a scrap of remorse for anything? Yeah. That was the straw that broke my back. It was a big straw, yet the pile was huge before she laid that one on. She has never shown remorse for anything, for years and years, except getting caught and punished. She ain't right.

I am not the kind of person who keeps score of offenses against me. As I said at the beginning, I am a very forgiving person. But at some point my well of forgiveness runs out. I have taken into account that she is a child. That she is my child. I used to love her. I still do, after a fashion. I care about what happens to her, where she goes, what influences she is subjected to. I don't want her to be in danger. I want her to have the things that she needs. But I don't think I can provide that care for her. She is slowly killing my spirit.

It's too much. I've been told (by experts, no less**) that I need to move beyond her past behaviors, to forgive her. To wipe the slate clean and start anew. No. I have been hurt too deeply. I cannot open myself, make myself vulnerable to her in the way that I "should" as a parent. Love requires a certain vulnerability. Parenting requires patience and a "long view" perspective. Since she was 4 years old Diva has been consistently odd, and not in a good way. She has NEVER... N E V E R exhibited remorse. Almost never does she accept any kind of punishment, because she is not wrong. Rules don't apply to her, therefore consequences shouldn't apply either. So the "long view" from age 4 to 14 shows disturbing consistency. Perhaps in another 10 years she'll have matured into an emotionally healthy young woman, but I can't see that happening. I know other children (besides my own) who are now adults. Certain personality traits are consistent throughout their lives. The things I am trying to describe about Diva are the things that don't change significantly.

I feel as though I need to scream from the rooftops so that someone, anyone will hear me and understand. I. Can't. Do. This. Any. More. All of these well trained service providers just don't get it. Nothing I've said seems to have made a difference to them. They see segments of her behavior and think "that's not so bad." Maybe not, but it is for me. Or it's been going on long enough to have broken me. Perhaps I'm just not strong enough. Not good enough. Whatever. I don't care. Take her away. I can no longer stand the pain she brings. I can't turn off my give-a-shit so that she doesn't hurt me anymore. I'm too good a parent for that. And that renders me unqualified to parent her.

*Newspeak: DJJ doesn't have probation officers, they have probation counselors. Doesn't that make us all feel better? (No)

** Some of these experts are even older and more experience than I, though not experienced at living with Diva. 'Nuf said.

What happened instead

Yes, I cut my hair! It was... cathartic, fun, spiritual even. I'm glad I did it. It needs to be styled a bit, as it looks like the butcher job that it is. But I didn't do that today. Instead...

Let me tell you about Diva. Oh, never mind, if you've been reading this blog for more than a month you've heard about Diva. Click on the "Diva" tag for way more information than you'll ever want. Shit happened today concerning the dear child. The treatment center (Residential Treatment Facility - RTF) is not doing a good job in a few respects. Our behavioral health insurance is pretty good, (thank the gods!) but only approved coverage through last Friday, which we learned on Friday. The RTF began billing us $450/day on Saturday. Since she has been out of the home for more than 30 days she automatically qualifies for Medicaid. We went through this with Sproing, too, when he was in his RTF. It was a different facility from the one where Diva is now. Diva's RTF told us to get her on Medicaid. I went to the local office and was told that the center where she is staying needs to apply for Medicaid on her behalf. We called them back, they said the agency that placed her needs to file. Yeah, it's been a runaround. Well, first thing this morning Superman got a call from the RTF saying they will discharge the girl today because of the financial situation. PANIC!!! NO! She is not ready to be here, and we definitely are not ready for her to be here.

Superman spent a lot of time on the phone. He camped out in the waiting room at the local mental health agency for a couple of hours. He came home and got back on the phone with lots of different places. He and I updated and/or completed the application info for a "children's home" place that might be a good fall-back option if we had to get her from the RTF today.

Ended up not going. There's a super-nice friendly helpful fellow at the local Dept. of Mental Health office whose position is something like an ombudsman or something. He and Superman spent a lot of time on the phone, both with each other and to the RTF. He was able to contact someone higher up in the RTF organization. We had been told that they "didn't do Medicaid." Which is total BS, of course, and our friendly ombudsman talked to someone there who was confused as to why we were given that information. She was looking into it.

Yada yada and a lot of runaround. (I may be repeating myself.) We had to make some plans, to think about what the fuck we would do if she did have to come home today. Damn, that's a scary thought. Sproing said he'd leave, would go live with one of his uncles if she came back home. I don't blame him. Hell, I might join him! What I came to tell you, though, is that we had one hell of a stressful day today. Nothing is settled now, though we are OK through tonight (as far as I know). I don't know what kind of shit the fan has for us tomorrow.

I had hoped to post the before and after pictures of the hair cut, to tell you about the plans for that, and to tell you the emotional revelation/breakdown I had about it Monday morning. (It was more about that gender thing, how I'm not particularly comfortable being a woman.) But this is what happened instead. And I'm tired. I want to go snuggle with my husband. So for now, goodnight.

Thank Therapy

My dear friend Tobey over at Bald Emotions has posted a "thank therapy" list. This is a great idea for this season, but it's probably useful many other times of the year. Remind me of this next time I get into a blue funk.

Here's my list of 25 things for which I am thankful:

1. Indoor plumbing, a perennial favorite

2. Sex

3. Validation that Sproing really is psychologically disturbed

4. Sproing being in a residential treatment facility where he is getting help

5. ...and by extension, Sproing not being here to wreck daily havoc on my life

6. My precious kitty cats, who bring so much comfort and fun to my days

7. Central air conditioning

8. Autumn

9. Twitch doing so well in college

10. Light, ditto

11. The interwebs, specifically blogs and those who write them

12. My computer, through which I access this interwebby thing

13. The dear friends I have made through blogging

14. My wonderful husband Superman, our marriage, and the joy we share with each other

15. Being in college again -- it makes me feel alive!

16. Psychotropic medication, which makes this list possible

17. Cool weather

18. Diva, and being able to spend time with her alone, getting to know her outside of the Sproing dynamic

19. Indigo, my beloved friend who has changed my life is so many good ways

20. Therapy, and specifically my therapist

21. My health, such as it is, and would that I take better care of it

22. Music that soothes the savage beast (that would be me)

23. Having my own room, my office, which is mine, dammit

24. My intellect and insight, when it works

25. Modern kitchen appliances: beware the trap of taking them for granted