It's only Tuesday? I thought for sure it would be Friday by now.

 

Yo-yo. That's what she is. Or that's what she's doing to me, I don't know.
Yes, the Diva is back. This doesn't surprise you, does it? I hope not. We all should have predicted this. Hell, I did.

She seems to be back to stay, at least for a while. We discussed her continued education. On the advice of the student support specialist at the high school, we're looking into the adult education GED program at the alternative school. This seems to be the best bet for the child.

I am kinda depressed. It's hard to write much. By the way, I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow (Wednesday) afternoon. Haven't seen her in a while, what with surgery and recovery and all. And boy, do I have a lot to share with her!

An old friend stopped by the house today. Wendell. I probably wrote about him a few years ago. He worked with Sproing for a while, teaching him how to be a decent human being. Don't know how well it worked, but oh well. Wendell is a fantastic fellow. He lives in Los Angeles now and works with a social service agency that targets people with at-risk behaviors for HIV/AIDS prevention education, among other things. Wendell worked with Sproing, but he and I became good friends. I miss him. It was very good to see him again.

I had a good conversation with Diva last night. She told me a little bit about living with her birth mom Janice. In a round-about way, probably unintentionally, she kinda told me that I'm a good mother. It took me a couple of hours after the conversation to realize it, but hey! I'm taking the compliment.

Jay asked about Twitch. Yes, Twitch still lives here. He works at Arby's, making sandwiches for the hungry lunch crowd almost every day. He is doing well, but really should be working (in my opinion) as a graphic designer or something related, which is what he got his degree for. However, he has plans to transfer to a store in Charlotte, NC this summer so he can look for graphic design work there. He went to college in Charlotte, so he's familiar with the city. It's big enough to have more opportunity for work in his field. That's the hope, anyway. He just turned 24 and feels like it's a drag to still be living with his parents. As much as we love and support him, we think he should be living on his own, too. All in good time.

That's about all I have the emotional energy to relay. I'll be back.

Diva update and other random shit on a Friday night

So, Diva. She was here for two nights, last Sunday and Monday (I think. Time runs together, becoming meaningless). She was supposed to have a job interview at Burger King on Tuesday, but she didn't go. It was snowing outside, but the weather wasn't too cold and no snow was sticking to the pavement. And I told her that if she was here tomorrow (which would be Wednesday in this version of time) I would take her to school to enroll. Son of a gun if she didn't have somewhere for her Daddy to take her on Tuesday night. She went to stay with some man (early 20s, Superman guesses) in Edgefield, about 45 minutes from here. I have no idea who this character is, whether he's a decent person or not. I suppose I should care, or should have checked, but as independent as Miss Diva wants to be, it seems improper for us to interfere.

In related news, her birth mother Janice told me she thinks Diva will be back in jail eventually, probably sooner than later.

Superman heard from Diva the other night. She texted him she wanted him to pick her up from Edgefield and take her to a friend's house in Saluda. You can look those places up on a map if you want. They are both about 45 minutes from Greenwood, one to the southwest, the other to the southeast. And not close to each other. Superman didn't reply and we haven't heard from her since.

Maybe we should be more diligent, but honestly, I have no energy to do so. I have not been a good mother to her. I tried, did the best I knew how, but it didn't work. My attitude now: oh well.

In Other News-
Superman took me out to dinner tonight. McAlister's. Decent food for a franchise deli. When I sat down at the table I KA-WHANGED my elbow on the ledge beside the chair. O.M.G. that hurt! I hit it hard. Not on the funny bone nerve, but on the bottom of the elbow. I've had ice on it since we got home. I'll take a pain reliever eventually. And yes, I can (almost) type while keeping my elbow on ice.

More Other News-
We bought a birthday present for Twitch tonight, only two weeks after his birthday. It came to me. I didn't know what to get him before. We got him a super big beach towel. Did you know Wal-Mart has put beach towels on display? At least they have in Greenwood, South Carolina. The young man has wanted a large beach towel for a while now.

Next News-
I have read a lot recently. Books on my Kindle. Have I mentioned that I really like my Kindle? I also watched some movies on TCM (cable movie channel). I watched two Frank Capra offerings yesterday, "Meet John Doe" and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington." Frank Capra had a type. Evidently he was an optimistic soul. Indigo (Ashen Grey on facebook) says the movies, which he has never seen, would be improved with the addition of monsters or zombies. But that's Indigo.

I am still taking it easy and recovering from the surgery. It gets kinda boring. Thankfully, I like boring.

Superman turned me on to a new artist and song today. Well, he's new to me. It's Hozier, with Take Me To Church.


His explanation of the song is really good, too. Check it out.

Penguins are some of nature’s great defecators.

Bet you didn't know that little factoid. Here's more from that source.*

Penguins are some of nature’s great defecators. In order to avoid messing up their feathers and their nests, they point their bottoms out of the nests and can shoot their poo up to 40 centimetres away. Researchers at the International University Bremen in Germany calculated that in order to do this the birds squeezed four times as hard as humans usually do. The colour of the birds' poo is important for researchers; if it's pink then the penguins have been eating krill, while white faeces point to a diet of fish. Green poo indicates a diet of algae, a food of last resort that usually means other foods are in short supply.

Heart In Hand (Rox) asked me to post something new so that the penis faucets aren't popping onto her screen. So I give you Penguins.

I will now update you on the Diva Drama, of which there is much. Last you heard, she was in jail. Her bio dad Robert did not actually come to get her out. Taking with birth mom Janice today, she said Robert talks a big talk but isn't so good with the follow through. Diva was release from the county detention center Saturday morning. She spent four nights in jail. Is that enough of a deterrent? I don't know. Don't know if deterrents work on her anyway. As I've said so many times before, that child ain't right in the head.

When she came home she told us she wasn't going back to Janice's house. Shit. She didn't like the lack of privacy or the other kids going through her stuff and taking things. HA! She's been doing shit like that to her siblings for years. Anyway, Superman talked to Diva Sunday and convinced her to go back to Janice's until after my surgery and recovery. (Surgery for a complete hysterectomy is scheduled for this Thursday, Feb 5.)

This morning shortly after 10:00 Diva and I left for Janice's house. Here's the plan: drive to Janice's, drop her and her small bag of stuff off there, high tail it home. Unfortunately things didn't go so smoothly. Janice texted she had a job interview** and wouldn't be home (after telling me at 9 a.m. that she'd be home all day) so I should take Diva to Janice's friend Phat's house. Yeah, Phat. Whatever. Said Diva knows how to get there. So I ask Diva, she said she knows where Phat lives but doesn't know how to get there, and doesn't want to go there anyway. She said she'd rather go to her older brother's house, and she does know the way there.

We go first to Janice's house to 1) see if Janice is still there and 2) give Diva a familiar starting place for the drive to her brother's. Janice wasn't there. Diva directed me out of the neighborhood but soon missed the part where I was supposed to get on the interstate. Five miles later she says we missed the turnoff. WTF. So we go back to the interstate, and I ask her whether we need to get on Northbound or Southbound. She has no clue what I'm talking about, says that the sign says Asheville Highway. But that sign is on the interstate, of course. In which direction? Seriously, she didn't grasp the concept that there are two directions the interstate runs. I stopped at a convenience store to ask directions. It didn't really help. We drove north too far, then came back south too far, and never saw the Asheville Highway sign. We phoned the brother's baby mama for directions, and that didn't help enough. I asked her what the highway number was. Her response: huh? I don't know.

At that point I checked the maps app on my slow piece of shit phone and found Asheville Highway (176). That still didn't help enough because I was on the wrong piece of interstate. There's a business loop off the main interstate, which is where I should have been but wasn't.

After driving north and south and north and south for over an hour I finally connected with Janice, who by then was finished with her interview and wanted to go home. We met at a McDonald's. I passed Diva off to Janice. Praise the heavenly host.

By now it's after 1:00, my phone battery is almost dead, and I'm hungry and thirsty. I set out to find real food (did NOT go into the McD's!). Had a lovely omelet at IHOP. I inadvertently left my phone in the car, and when I returned I saw that I had missed a call from Janice. Well, I called Superman to let him know where I was, then turned off the phone. I didn't want to hear what Janice had to say until I got home. It was a good move.

The whole trip should have taken no more than three hours. I got home five hours after I left. Came in, plugged my phone up, called Superman. Oh dear. He had heard from Janice. And someone from Department of Social Services (DSS). Seems Diva had one of her shit fits shortly after I dropped her off. Janice called the cops. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, but they ended up in the DSS office. The upshot of that was that since we are her guardians, we have to go get her and bring her back here. Oh, shit. I 'bout lost it. I was shaking and tearful. We have been through the ringer with this little bitch for so long, and here we finally thought we're rid of her. Oh shit.

So I called Janice. We had a nice little talk. She said to call her back when Superman got home from work and we'd discuss things. Which we did, and Janice agreed to keep Diva for now.

I'm scheduled for surgery in three days. I'm emotionally fragile right now anyway, and expect it'll be worse after the surgery when I will be basically defenseless for some weeks. It is a very bad idea for Diva to be here now for many reasons.

I talked to Janice after she'd been at the DSS office. Superman was on the speaker phone with the lady from DSS, so Janice heard a lot of information that was new to her. So when we spoke, she'd had some time to ruminate on the new info. She indicated that the shit fit Diva had was much milder than what she usually does for us. I get the impression that Janice wants to see what she can do to help Diva, to "fix" anything that's messed up due to Diva living with us. And frankly I am thankful for that. Anyone who's read this blog for a while knows that Diva is messed up and Superman and I are so far over our heads with her that we can't see the light. Yes, we've messed up. We have done everything we know to do to make things right, but she's a mess. If Janice can make a difference, I hope and pray she does. For right now, Diva isn't here. And Janice and I have been discussing going through the legal process of giving her legal guardianship. I would love to do that, and told Janice today that we plan to call our lawyer (probably after my surgery) to get the ball moving on that.

I would like Superman to fill in some details about his conversation with the DSS lady.

Thank you, Babe. Okay, then. I might get a thing or two out of sequence, but this is the gist of the conversation.
So I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own business (well ... technically I was minding Capsugel's business, but you get the idea) when my phone rings.
Not recognizing the number, I answered with my name.
"Sir, this is [Jane Doe] with Spartanburg DSS.
All right, picture with me if you will a very large, formidable, dour, scowling, severely-dressed maiden aunt with her hair in a tight bun, who is of the opinion that fun should be illegal. That is the voice that spoke to me. Then "Spartanburg DSS" sank in, and I sighed. "What did she do this time?"
"Sir, I don't think you understand. I am here with [Janice] and we need for you to come and get Diva."
It took me a few seconds to process that, too. "What?"
"Diva can't stay with [Janice]. She is not Diva's legal guardian. You are."
"Legally, ma'am, I'm her father, not her legal guardian, but that's details. Would you tell me what's wrong?"
Janice spoke up, "She started pulling shenanigans just as soon as Java's truck was out of sight. I can't take care of her if she's gonna act like that."
More processing of information on my part, interspersed with dealing with the psychic punch I just took to the gut. "What made her change her mind?"
Jane Doe paused for a second. "What do you mean?"
"She was all fired up to go to Spartanburg to be with Janice. She's been of that mind since they first met back last fall. I'm curious to know what changed."
"I have no idea if anything changed, but [Janice] is not her legal guardian. She gave up her rights to Diva when she placed her for adoption."
"Yes, I know."
"Then why would you try to make [Janice] take her?"
At this point I'm wondering if Jane is even listening to me. "Ma'am ... I have been trying my best to preserve the peace and balance what Diva wants with what is best for her. That is a very difficult thing to do when Diva has such a loose grip on reality."
"Well the law is very clear in this case, and you can't force ..."
"Ma'am, I didn't force anything. I was trying to help Diva get what she told me she wanted. She hates living with us. She has for a long time. It makes for a VERY tense atmosphere in the house and no one is happy with it, but as you stated, we are responsible for her. We have been doing the best we could ..."
"You could have gotten her some help. That child is out of control!"
I stopped and absorbed that. Excuse me? FUCKING EXCUSE ME?!? "Ma'am, she has been a client of the mental health system since the age of nine."
"You should try counseling."
I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it, then resumed the conversation, understanding that she wasn't paying very close attention to what I said. Another 'gubmint' drone with an agenda and a tight ass. "Ma'am, I need you to listen to me."
"What?" She sounded offended.
"Diva has been in counseling since the age of nine."
"Well, you should do family counseling."
"We have. On many occasions. Family, individual, with several different counselors. Some of it court ordered because of her violent tendencies."
"... Uh ... have you tried ..."
"She is in the state mental health system. She has been seen by private counselors. She was admitted to a mental hospital for threatening my life. She spent thirteen months in a residential treatment facility, and they gave her back to us because they said they couldn't do anything with her. She has attacked Java. She has attacked multiple classmates. She has a history of stealing whatever she can get her hands on, and has been doing that for better than a dozen years. My wife and I have counseling ourselves, just so we can have some clue how to deal with her."
"... Oh."
I was sort of on a roll at that point. "If she doesn't like the way reality is panning out around her, she just discards it and makes up one of her own. She's done that most of her life. She has five clinical diagnoses, including Impulse Control Disorder and Reactive Attachment Disorder. She doesn't consider us her family and never has. Now, there is a physical, organic basis for some of that because she has a congenital brain defect, periventricular leukomalacia, which means part of the brain is missing. It's the part that contains that little governor that says, 'Now wait a minute and think about that before you do it.' It helps explain her problem with impulse control and stealing. But please believe me when I tell you that we have done everything in our power to help her and to adapt to this hellish situation. And let me also state that I am sick of being cast as the Bad Guy because I had the gall to try to help her achieve her goals.
"I see. Well. I'm, uh, very sorry sir. But you still have to come get her."
"Fine. Janice, I guess I'll see you this evening, then."

So there's that. And as I said, Diva isn't here, at least for now. And I hope, pray, beg, plead that she stays away. Perhaps I'm a bad mother, but dammit, she's a bad child and no one has any idea what it's like to raise a kid like her unless they've done it themselves.

*There are a bunch of interesting penguin facts at that link, hardly any of them having to do with poop. Check it out if you have a minute. Or more.

**She got the job! She's been unemployed for a few weeks and really needs that job. I'm happy for her.

Stuff keeps happening

It's been busy around here. Lots of drama. I should have posted earlier, but damn, I've been kinda overwhelmed.

Let's start with Sproing, because his drama just culminated today. I'll start from the end; today he went before the family court judge (where Dept. of Juvenile Justice cases are heard) for a probation violation hearing and was sentenced to further probation until he is 18 years old (January of 2016) and remanded to kiddie jail. He will be at the evaluation center/holding tank until a bed opens in an alternate placement. There are many of them around the state. Some are wilderness camp-type places, some with more of a military philosophy, and I'm not sure what all else. He will be at the eventual placement until he meets that facility's requirements for completion. As I understand it, each program has a certain level of accomplishment, like a number of points or something, that he has to reach to be considered acceptable for release. You know, until he has rehabilitated himself. Or something.

The kid has been incorrigible for months. He is failing all of his classes, refuses to cooperate or do any classwork in his English class and I guess is just lazy in his other classes. He actively despises his English teacher. She expects him to participate in class and do his work, heaven forbid. He has been suspended 14 days in the first nine weeks, so even in the couple of classes he was (barely) passing he has now fallen so far behind that it's overwhelming trying to catch up.

Sproing argues with us almost constantly. "What you fail to understand..." is his opening statement. We don't understand anything, evidently. He has responsibilities and obligations that he isn't meeting, but it's never his fault.

About three weeks ago Superman was out of the country on a business trip. The Tuesday he was gone Sproing and Diva got into an argument that turned violent. He hit her a few times, she threw half of our living room at him, piece at a time. Threw a side table at him, breaking the table and traumatizing the poor dog. She grabbed full drawers out of a plastic case thingie that had some of my craft supplies in it, and hurled the drawers at him, still full of stuff. There was craft detritus strewn all across the living room. I tried as much as possible to stay out of their way, as I had no desire to get hit. I told them to go to their rooms and calm down, which advice was of course ignored. I was in my room and Diva came in, hysterical. She locked the door behind her and Sproing banged on it, demanding to be let in. He's in a rage. You think we want him in here? Hell no! But he kicked the door in. So now not only are their bedroom doors broken and nearly ruined, mine is damaged too. The little fuckers.

There is a little bit more I want to say about Sproing's anger and argumentative spirit, but I'll go into Diva's drama first because his relates to hers.

Diva successfully contacted her birth mother. Through Facebork. A couple of months ago she found her mother's Facebork page and sent a friend request. Her mother, Janice, evidently doesn't check Facebork very often and only saw the friend request a couple of weeks ago, at which point she accepted Diva's request and was thrilled to be back in touch. The feeling was mutual. Janice has seven children, Diva being her second. Janice also has a double fist full of siblings, correspondingly large numbers of cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. Everyone was super excited about finding Diva. The first day they connected, one of Janice's sisters drove down here (an hour+ drive) that evening. The next day Janice came down with all of her younger children to see Diva. Was it that weekend or the next, I don't remember exactly, that Diva went to spend the weekend with her birth family? She's spent every weekend since with them. Last weekend she met her birth father for the first time. I overheard her talking to her father on the phone last night. She called him "Daddy" and she calls Janice "Mom." Interesting, in that she calls me and Superman "Mom" and "Dad" respectively. Sounds confusing.

Anyway, lots of big drama. Janice's family is kinda ... high maintenance from a drama drama drama standpoint. And it turns out that one of the assistant principals at Diva's high school is distantly related to her. She (the principal) was married to Diva's uncle once upon a time. I've had a couple of good discussions with said principal, and she tells me to be careful when engaging with that family. Drama, drama, drama. So far, and it's been maybe three weeks, things seem to be OK.

I am genuinely happy for Diva that she has connected with her birth family. This is something she's wanted for a very long time. I'm happy for Janice, too, because she eventually regretted placing Diva for adoption. It was the only choice she could see at the time, and did it in part (as I understand it) to prevent children's services from taking custody of her two children. So she gave Diva a good home (theoretically) and was able to parent her older son. Then she had five more children (two more girls and three boys) to make up for? replace? the one she'd released for adoption. I don't know. The whole thing is much more complicated than that, but I suspect that's one element.

As I said, things are going well so far. It's the honeymoon period, and Diva does honeymoons very well. I think Janice hasn't told her "no" about anything significant yet, or hasn't made any demands of her that Diva doesn't agree with. When that happens, oh boy, watch out. It'll get dramatic, I suspect. The first weekend Diva was with them, they bought her quite a few clothes and pairs of shoes. So Diva thinks they're heaven sent. Last weekend her birth-daddy gave her a cell phone. (We gave her a phone a couple of years ago and she immediately started sexting with much older guys, ranging in age from late teens to early 30s. Nekkid pictures were traded, meetings were set up. We took her phone away. After a few months we tried again, and the same thing happened. Repeat. So she doesn't have a phone from us anymore.) Right now they are spoiling her. This is the set-up. Soon they will expect things from her, things she isn't willing to do or provide. That's how I see this mess working out.

If you've read this blog for any time at all, you are aware of Diva's explosive disposition. She comes by her demeanor and personality honestly. The nut doesn't fall far from the tree, as the saying goes. So as, um, dramatic as she is, I expect similar behavior from the rest of her family. This has the potential to blow up. I hope it doesn't, but I'm expecting fireworks.

I don't really know how I feel about the whole reunion with the birth family. As I said, I'm happy for the girl and the family, but for myself? I'm not sure. In a way it's threatening, but at the same time something of a relief. We have had Diva for close to 16 years, through ups and downs. More recently things have been very difficult. If she wants to hang with her birth family and show them how bloody difficult she is, more power to her. Then I expect they'll blame us for her waywardness, but whatever. I'm almost past caring. The thing is, I really do care about her. I love her. I don't like her very much most days, but I always love her. I want what's best for her, and often I am not sure just what is best for her. Or for Sproing, either. He's in jail now. I hope he does well, learns important lessons from the experience, grows into the responsible young man I know he can be.

Diva reconnecting with her birth family has raised some issues with Sproing. All of a sudden he was asking about his birth family. Unfortunately we don't have much information for him. His was a closed adoption, so we don't even know his birth mom's name. We have records, court documents, etc. but her name is blanked out. I showed him what we have and he got very angry. He accused us of hiding things from him, for lying to him for 16 years. WTF? He hasn't even been curious about his birth family, hardly. Every so often he'll ask a general question, but he's never had the burning desire for contact that Diva has. I don't lie to the kids. OK, sometimes I may fudge the truth a little, or leave out a few details, but never do I tell big lies.

I understand that Sproing is angry. I think he feels neglected, left out, ignored. Or maybe he thinks we're taking advantage of him or something. I don't know, and he won't talk to me. He won't open up to me and let me know how he feels about anything. I try to start conversations with him, totally open and nonthreatening, but he immediately goes on the defensive. And he gets angry so very quickly. As I said, it's arguments every day for hours, if I keep engaging him. I tell him that we don't agree so there's nothing more to discuss, but he won't drop it then, he wants to keep yelling at me. Wears me out.

Diva will turn 17 one month from today (the 4th) (Happy election day). At that age she no longer is compelled to stay at home. If she runs away before she's 17, law enforcement can haul her back home. Once she turns 17 she's allowed by law to leave home. One month. By a show of hands, how many think she'll move in with her birth family in a month? She has been threatening/promising for months (a year or more, maybe even) to move away, in with friends once she turns 17. Now that the birth family is so eager and willing to have her as part of their lives, it's a real possibility she'll move there. Will that be a good thing? I don't know. Will she choose to do so? I don't know. To her benefit, Janice encourages Diva to finish school. Janice never did. She dropped out very early, getting pregnant at age 13 or 14. Janice wants Diva to get her high school diploma. I'm grateful for the encouragement. Janice also tells Diva to respect us as her adoptive parents. I like this. Will Diva listen? I don't know. Diva has a pretty strong opinion of us, and it isn't positive.

Diva will have to come to terms with her birth family on her own, learn about them, how to deal with them, how to not be overwhelmed by them. I don't know how long that might take, if she ever succeeds. I wish her luck.

Update featuring "bad" children

I wish the kids were mature enough to be civil responsible citizens, but alas, emotionally disturbed 16 year olds act like ill-behaved adolescents. Both are on probation. Sproing is currently in violation of his probation, but Diva is about a month away from being off probation. She's done a bit better recently. However, just this Tuesday the two of them got into a fight here at home. They traded punches and threw things (including furniture) at each other. It was a loud mess. Property was damaged. But through it all I remained calm. It's gotten to the point that whatever they do, there's not much I can do to make a difference. Through the fight I calmly told them to go to their rooms and calm down. They totally ignored me, as usual. I'm just trying to survive until they grow up and move out. It makes me feel like a bad parent, but I don't let it tear me apart like it used to. When I was earning my recent psychology degree I remember in either Adolescent Development or Adolescent Psychopathology class I read that "bad" children lead to "bad" parenting. OK, it wasn't that simple. Difficult children make it much harder to do the "good parenting" things. I find that to be a very true truth. 

Superman is out of the country on business this week. He'll be home Saturday evening. It's been a long week. He's in Belgium, where those Belgians make some of the best chocolate on the planet. As usual when he goes to Belgium, I don't allow him back in the country unless he brings me chocolate offerings. After the week I've had, I need it! 

"Need" might be overstating things. I'm an over-eater. Some people drink too much alcohol, and "need" booze to help them through difficult times. In like manner, I "need" chocolate. I had a lovely bowl of chocolate ice cream this afternoon. In related news, I've gained about 20 lbs. since the start of summer. I'd lost about 60 lbs. but am up 20 now. I need to get a grip on this shit. There are more effective ways to deal with stress. But dammit, I'm too stressed (or maybe too depressed) (or both) to invest the energy into eating right and exercising as I should. That's bullshit, you realize. I am responsible for my own actions (or inaction, in this case). It is all my fault and it's my responsibility to get my shit together and do the right thing. But damn. A bowl of ice cream is easier. Also, the depression thing causes me to not care about myself enough to do the right thing. But then I feel fat and stupid and want to lose weight. It's an evil cycle. 

Just this week I was able to talk to another mother with a difficult child. Her kid is only 7 years old, poor thing, and has serious mental/emotional problems. There is nothing I can do to provide practical assistance, but I can listen and sympathize. It's amazing how much help that can be. I understand her feeling of helplessness. She's just beginning to get a clue that she is a parent of a special needs child. It's extremely difficult to accept that designation. It's one thing if your child is born with an obvious birth defect. This kid looks perfectly normal. But when the behavior is socially unacceptable, the parent looks like a fool. It really isn't the parent's fault, per se, it's that the kid is abnormal. That's not what Joe Schmo on the street sees, though. My point here is that I feel useful when I'm able to talk to the mom, or more importantly listen to the mom, and assure her that I know what it's like, have similar experiences. 

And I heard from one of my former professors asking for the same help. She knows a woman with a difficult child and asked if I would talk to the mom, maybe help her connect to local resources to help the child. So now I'm waiting on an email from this mom. I do know a few resources that can maybe help the kid, but I suspect just connecting with someone else who understands will be as much help as anything else. 

I haven't had any social connections recently. I'm not doing anything these days, and I feel useless. Well, I am doing stuff, but it involves taking my children to appointments and such. Oh, I failed to mention that Sproing has been suspended from school all this week. The fool (he's really very intelligent, but painfully unwise) got himself six days of out-of-school suspension. So this whole week while Superman has been out of the country I've had to deal with Sproing all day, every day. And his attitude stinks. He's a pain in the ass, except when he wants something from me and then is very charming. He has charm out the wazoo. 

Speaking of chocolate, I read yesterday that the price of chocolate will probably go up soon. The African countries with Ebola problems supply much of the U.S. chocolate. Ebola is the real tragedy. Chocolate is a meaningful and unfortunate side effect. Chocolate impacts my life more directly than Ebola. For that I am thankful. 

Baseball is in the post-season playoffs now. I like baseball, and have been watching the playoffs when I can. The Kansas City Royals won the American League championship, and currently San Francisco and St. Louis are battling for the National League championship. The score in game 5 is tied at 3 in the 9th inning. Sproing has been in here arguing with me for the past two hours, criticizing me for not paying attention to him. And he's arguing about stupid stuff. So I told him to go away until the game is over. I hope he won't want to argue with me anymore when the game is over. I don't like to argue. The boy does. A lot. I'm emotionally exhausted.  

Meh

It's like this... nuthin'. I got nuthin' going on, nothing interesting to say.

My brain is full of cotton fluff. Nothing interests me, my primary motivation is to stay out of the way of the people in this house. Except maybe Superman. He's nice. Everyone else is annoying at the very least.

Sproing got himself suspended from school for mouthing off to an administrator and refusing to cooperate. Typical Sproingish behavior, I see it all the time. The assistant principal was not amused. Now Sproing is home until next Wednesday and I am not amused. I can't talk to him. When I try he gets very angry and won't listen.

Diva came home from school in tears today. The usual suspects are picking on her again. They're threatening to jump her... after graduation. She's repeating the 10th grade, and if she passes all her classes this year and next she will be eligible to graduate in June of 2016. So, over a year and a half from now she might get jumped by these girls who don't like her. But to her it is a big thing, and I can't dismiss her concerns. But she won't tell me who these girls are and she refuses to inform the authorities at school. So what the hell am I supposed to do about it? All I did today was make sympathetic noises. Really, it's all she allows me to do.

I'm not a good mother anymore. I think I used to be, to the older children who were good at behaving themselves. To the younger ones when they were real young. I have no idea what to do with them now. I've lost most of the respect they ever had for me. I feel used. This feeling of being used is probably typical of parents of teens. No matter, is sucks.

So my only purpose in life right now is to love my husband. I can do that. I enjoy loving my husband. He's a great guy. Not perfect, of course, and I try to ignore his imperfections. I can live with that. I'm supposed to have purpose as a mother, but my children won't let me. Whatever. I just wish they wouldn't argue with me. It hurts.

I don't post here very often anymore. There isn't much to say that doesn't sound pitiful. But I figured I'd check in, let you know that I'm still alive and I plan to stay that way.

Did She Survive the Summer?

I don't know. The verdict is still out on that one.

The kids are back in school and I am still alive, so if those are the measurements, yes I survived. But who am I now? I don't know.

I'll tell you a little bit about the kids. Sproing is already not doing well at school, and they've been in for seven days. We have a teacher conference with his English teacher tomorrow afternoon. Also he's failing math already. I don't know what it is about this boy, and I don't know what to do with him. That's what his English teacher says, too.

And now for Diva: she has contracted another STD, this time a biggie. She's got genital herpes. Or the way she says it, general harpies. You'd think she was an uneducated idiot. Maybe she is, though I've done everything in my power to enrich her life with educational opportunities and good moral teaching.

I don't know who I am. I feel like I'm about three feet tall with the strength of a four year old. No, I know too much to have the strength of a four year old. They have the benefit of ignorance (very different from idiocy) and naivety which increases their particular strength. I'm a useless mass of non-confidence. Or a non-confident mass of uselessness.

Can you smell the depression? And when I'm depressed I don't post on my blog very much. I also don't read blogs much, so I have no idea what anyone else is doing. Slugmama, bless her heart, sent me a message today (or was it yesterday?) inquiring of my situation. You can thank her for this post, such as it is.

I don't even go online much these days. Just this week I've checked my email almost every day, which is a huge jump from the once a week or so I was active last month. I had been doing the Facebork thing pretty regularly, but that tapered off sometime mid summer. I just don't care about much anymore.

The kids will be home any minute now and I want to be done here first, so this is what'cha got today.

One of these days I'll write something happy

Next weekend is the second annual Bloggerpalooza. I'll be there. We had a grand time last year, and I am looking forward to meeting old friends and new. Unfortunately Superman will not be with me. Remember all the crap that Diva has done recently? We can't leave her with Twitch. He's not able to deal with her, and she would take advantage of him so fast. Both Superman and I are super pissed off about this.

We had such a good time last year getting away together. It's the first time in ... no, it was the second time in a very very long time that Superman and I were able to get away together, just the two of us. The first time was the summer before, 2012, when I wrecked the little Aveo in West Virginia. He drove up to bring me home and we spent one night there in Lewisburg, WV together. We had a wonderful time, even though I'd wrecked the car. I think we hadn't been away together just the two of us since before we adopted Sproing back in 1998. How fucked up is that? Then last March we spent a fantastic four days together, then my Daddy died (the Monday after the Bloggerpalooza weekend) and we went together to Gainesville, FL to be with the family and deal with that shit. Technically that was time away together, but because it piggy-backed the Bloggerpalooza and was because of my Daddy's death, it doesn't count. I mean, really. This past year has been hell thanks primarily to Sproing and Diva, and we could use some time together.

On the positive side, I'll be able to see Light. I'm leaving early Monday to go to Pennsylvania to spend a couple of days with Light and see her art show. I'll drive to Delaware on Thursday for the festivities there.

Let's talk about music. I'm not a huge music fan like lots of people I know. I like a variety of genres. I'm particularly fond of classical music, most kinds. Some of the avant garde dissonant stuff doesn't do it for me, but otherwise I like classical music. There are some country songs/artists I like (Kenny Chesney comes immediately to mind). I like soft jazz, piano jazz, but in general jazz isn't one of my favorite genres. It's hit or miss with contemporary pop songs. I like a lot of pop and rock from the 60s and 70s when I was growing up. There are very few hip-hop or rap songs I like, but there are some. My CD collection includes a random handful of classical stuff, my most recent favorite being the complete collection of Beethoven symphonies. When I was in my country music phase I collected a bunch of CDs. Some of them I still like, some I don't. I should get rid of some of that stuff I don't really like.

The majority of my CD collection, however, is oldies. Stuff I grew up loving. The CDs of vinyl albums we had when I was a kid. When they package those CDs they include my baggage. If I hear the song on the radio, I think "I remember that song! I loved that song." In a fit of reminiscence I buy the CD. Then I play it and all the baggage comes falling out and I can't listen to the songs without wallowing. I should get rid of those, too, I suppose. I've decided that I need to get some new stuff that I like. One recent acquisition is Jason Mraz. I really like most of his stuff. He's got a positive energy I find helpful. I've also recently become enamored of Peter Bradley Adams. This is the song that caught my attention. Think I'll get one of his CDs.

He's lyrical and melodic, has good harmonies and simple instrumentals. I hear some James Taylor influences. James Taylor is one of my old time favorites that I can listen to without pain. Oh, I also recently got a Jackson Browne CD (Late for the Sky) that I'm getting to know. Most of the songs on that album are new or not very familiar to me.

Enough of that. Now I'm figuring out my route from here to PA, then to Lewes, DE, and back home. I need to break up the trip home and I'll stay with one of my cousins in Virginia, either the one in Virginia Beach or her sister in Richmond. I've stayed in Richmond the past few times I've needed a layover. I'd like to see the VA Beach cousin, but she is a teacher and has work on Monday, so Sunday night is a school night (the night I'll be staying over) and that might mess up her schedule. I dunno. I need to decide, I need to make plans.

OK, I've been working on this post since late morning. It's nearing 9:00 now, so I'm gonna post this sucker. And speaking of 9:00, change your clocks. Daylight Saving Time returns overnight.

It's been a busy week?

I don't know anything anymore.

Diva has been doing her shorter school day for about a week now. The special-needs bus brings her home around 1:00 in the afternoon. She hangs around, watches TV, sleeps in the afternoon. I have no gumption to encourage anything else. I don't know what to do with her anyway. If we talk too much we end up fighting, so I'm trying to stay out of her way.

This is fucked up. This is not how I envisioned my life with my adopted children. Things were going to be so much better than this. There have been lots of missteps along the way. I did what I thought was right for a long time, and of course I made mistakes. But at some point a few years ago (probably five years if I had to guess) the balance tipped. I am in over my head with these kids. I don't know what to do and have no confidence to try much of anything anyway.

I read over the past few posts about Diva. I really do sound like a rotten mother. I have a bad attitude, that's for sure.

Sproing has been in jail for three weeks now. Not sure when he'll go before the judge again, but it will probably be within another three weeks. Superman and I had a good visit with him Saturday. He turned 16 a couple of weeks ago and is itching to try for his drivers' license as soon as he gets sprung from juvie. Yeah, we'll see. Really, I don't know. I think there should be an easy answer, that he definitely should (or should not) get his license yet. But I don't know and haven't the mental/emotional fortitude to figure it out. Or to stick with a plan.

And Twitch is home again. I drove down to Charleston last Thursday to get him and all his stuff. He's here. And pretending to look for a job, but not very hard in my estimation. He wants to go to Cincinnati (I don't know where that came from) to get a job, but he has no money, no prospects, nothing to go on. I told him to get a job here, make some money, do a bunch of research and job searching online and when he's got enough cash to make the move and a job to go to, then he'll be ready to go. He's been moping and mumbling around here since Friday. He helped his dad gather firewood on Sunday, that was helpful.

C moved out over the weekend. Twitch is now in the room C and his friend shared. This is the third time, if I recall, that C has lived here then moved away. This time is the worst yet. "How do you mean, Java?" Well, we had to kick him out this time. The other two times he motivated himself to go and had an apartment to go to. Now he moved in with some other friends and the situation is not ideal. It's a fairly small house with way more people than fit comfortably. Of course that could be said about this place. Also, the other residents have three dogs and there's a 5-year-old kid there at least part of the time. C doesn't deal with children well, and he has little patience for dogs (less for cats, but that's another story). C is a cook at the local Shoney's restaurant and doesn't seem to have any further dreams. He almost graduated from college but quit with two classes to go. Or maybe it was one. I don't remember. It looks to me like his life is stuck in idle and no one is at the controls. The clutch operator went out for a smoke break and hasn't returned in a while.

But he's gone from here, so hopefully that will help him kickstart his life again. He was definitely too comfortable here.

So lots of changes in the past week. In all of these things I feel a degree of guilt. Other feelings, too, but definitely guilt. Maybe it's misplaced, maybe not. Doesn't matter. It's what I'm dealing with. And not dealing well, either. On the other hand, I haven't gotten drunk since my last post. I have been eating too much, though. I feel a lot of pain right now, and I'm looking to food for some feel-good. I had a small ice cream thing a couple of hours ago and now my stomach feels unsettled. It didn't taste good enough to make me feel happy, either, so now I'm just sorry I ate it at all. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who can't eat when they're depressed, but really it's all bad, so whatever.

In happy news (the only happy news around here at all) Light had her Master of Fine Arts oral defense this morning. She passed! And her art show is this Saturday. She says everything is set up and looks good. Superman and Twitch will drive to western Pennsylvania on Thursday to spend the weekend with her, see her show, etc. I'm disappointed that I don't get to go, but Superman hasn't been to see her in nearly two years and I've been twice since then. I'll be here with Diva. Hopefully Sproing won't get out of jail until his dad gets back next Tuesday or Wednesday. So I'm happy as hell for Light, and glad that Superman and Twitch get to see her.

Today, that's all I got.

Comment and Commenting

Y'all, check out this comment on the previous post:

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "This isn't what I expected from today (A rant. You...": How could anyone talk about a child this way. So very sad. You are a bad mother; its no surprise she doesn't respect you. 

I am very amused. All the years I have spent trying to be kind and loving to her, (and for that matter I still try) and the child treats me like dirt. One can only be hurt so many times before lowering the level of effort.

We had a rough evening yesterday, but about an hour after she took her meds she calmed down (because they make her sleepy) and was kinda nice to me. She wanted me to help her crack her back because it hurt. She was sitting at an odd angle and fell asleep in the chair in her room and her legs fell asleep. She called me "Mom! I can't feel my legs!" So I helped her get up, explained about cutting of the blood supply, etc. We were very civil to each other. Then she went to bed.

This morning I got her up at 10:00 and offered to take her with me to the fabric store. Simplicity patterns are on sale for 99 cents and fabric and notions and all kinds of stuff is marked down significantly. I offered to let her pick one or two patterns and either I'd make her something or she could make 'em. She liked to sew at one point in her life, maybe three years ago. She declined. She's not been antagonistic (so far) today, but she hasn't been pleasant either. I've been about as nice as I can be, which is pretty darn nice under the circumstances.

In a sense, the anonymous commenter is correct. I am a bad mother. Well, probably not "bad" exactly, but I have many faults, and I don't parent my daughter as well as I could. Nor my son, either. I (we) have not been as consistent as we should be with rules and consequences, for example. Both of these kids are very difficult to parent, both are emotionally disturbed to one extent or another. Clinically. Like, with psychiatric diagnoses and shit. And that shit is HARD, dude! Normal stuff doesn't work with these kids. We do what we can with what we have.

So, Anonymous, if you'd like to take Diva for a few months and do a better job with her than I have, come on! You'll need a six month minimum, better eighteen months to get a genuine Diva experience. She does the "honeymoon" period really well. New situations usually bring out the best in her. She can be quite sweet. Maybe if you are truly a better parent than I, she'll respond well and have a smooth transition to adulthood. I know she and I aren't a "good fit" personality wise, and that is part of our problem.

I genuinely wish the best for Diva. I want her to have a good relationship with her parent figures. I want her to have honest confidence in herself and her abilities.* I want her to have good people skills, respect herself and other people. I've done what I can to teach her these things, to model them for her. It saddens me that our relationship is so poisoned. We've had good times. Recently, things haven't been so good. If you can do better, please come forward.

*By that I mean not delusional about her capacity to, for instance, sing and dance. She tends to think she's American Idol winner quality about stuff like that. She's got rhythm, sure, and she has dancing potential, but she's not that good, and when we gave her dance lessons she didn't commit to them the way she needs to in order to be that good.

I'm surviving

OK, so I had a bad weekend. I don't know that things have gotten better, necessarily, but I'm handling it better. One of the problems I had last week was a severe lack of sleep. Have I slept better this week? Well, not necessarily, but when the shit has hit the fan, it's been a relatively small amount of shit and I've had sufficient sleep at that time.

Last night Sproing was being a little shit. He argues about everything. We cannot have a simple discussion without him turning it into an argument. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, Superman was also there helping me and just being close (he's such a sweetheart!) and Sproing was arguing like a madman. It would have been funny if I hadn't been the target of his anger. I stuck it out, got a few hugs from Superman, and carried on. Maybe I'm partially detached from the whole shebang. That's how I survive. Some days it works, some days not so much. I got through it without any pharmaceutical or alcoholic assistance.

So I downloaded an interesting little book for my Kindle yesterday entitled How to Drive Your Family Crazy for Fun and Profit. It was one of the free books offered yesterday. I read it in half an hour or so. The author has some good things to say, much of it she learned from Al-Anon. She applies most of this to her siblings. I of course considered how I could apply the concepts to these teenage hangers-on, and the applications, though limited, are available. When I was reading the book I thought of you, Rox. I recommend it specifically for you. Her family reminded me of your descriptions of your extended family.

Returning to the subject of sleep: my sleep patterns are acting kinda menopausal. Most of this week I wake up around 3:30, give or take half an hour, and I'm HOT. Especially my feet. The soles of my feet get really hot sometimes. I can't get back to sleep while it's still dark, but get irresistibly sleepy around 8 or 9. Had some caffeine this morning (a little bit) so managed to avoid the morning nap, but got the runs instead. That'll keep me awake!

I also seem to be making my monthly quota of Facebork postings today. Usually I scan, "like" a status update, maybe make a comment or two, but don't post much. Sometimes I'll read an especially interesting (to me) article and post a link. Occasionally I'll share something really good. I rarely actually make status updates as such, but have today. As I write this paragraph I'm getting more and more bored. How can you read this boring crap? I obviously have nothing worth saying. At least in this paragraph.

One of the things I like about Facebook is that the first half of the word I type with my left hand, the second half with my right hand. That's what I like about the word "facebook." Really? Is this all I can find to talk about?

I had a dream yesterday during my morning nap. (Damn, that's pathetic.) Tom Hanks lived in my neighborhood, drove a red pickup truck, and dropped by my house to hang out. The neighborhood and house in the dream were nothing like where I actually live, save the brick on all the houses. My house was a two storey affair, but the stairs between the floors were somehow unavailable so I couldn't get from one floor to the other. A bunch of people came by for a party (so unlike me!) which we held in the basement rumpus room. We played bingo? Or something like that. There was a young man who was trying to act like Tom Hanks, but was only successful at being annoying. He was trying to charm me, make me fall in love with him. He thought he was second in line for my affections when Superman abdicated his role as my husband. Superman got angry at him, but don't remember if he decked the guy. The Tom Hanks/husband pretender was at the party and everyone else found him annoying. Also, all the other party guests were old folks in dowdy clothing. Damned dream has been invading my awake life for two days now. I'm ready to forget the thing.

That seems to be all I have to say today. I know I'm smarter and more interesting than this, but damned if I know how to access it today. Perhaps I'm rotting away, bit by bit.

Oh boy

It's bad again, peoples. Bad, bad, bad. I'm losing it.

Many of you will recognize the question "Are you in danger of hurting yourself or others?" I was thiiiiis close on Friday.

This is what I feel like:

(This is a sculpture by artist Bruno Walpoth. His works are shown here.)

Cracked. And not ready to appear in public.

Of course it's the kids. Both of them angered me on Friday. Sproing missed the bus because he's an idiot. As soon as I got back from taking him to school, the school called about Diva. Shit. Diva's pants were in violation of the dress code, and would I please bring some appropriate pants. Shit.

I looked in her room for some pants. O.M.G. What a stinking mess. After poking around for about 10 minutes in the stink (she'd wet the bed and not washed the sheets, and I found other wet sheets bunched up in a laundry basket) I discovered her pile of dirty clothes (but not pee-soaked) and retrieved a pair of jeans. Took them to the school, but had to wait. I was so tired. And angry. Hadn't gotten to sleep until 4 that morning with the help of pain-reliever-PM, so getting up at 7:55 to deal with Sproing ... was unpleasant. I wanted to be home, take a shower, and go back to sleep.

But no, Diva's grade principal wanted to see me first, but she was in a meeting. Shit. (The school has one head principal and a handful of vice principals, each VP in charge of discipline for one category of students.) Well, lots of things happened in the waiting process. I didn't want to see Diva, but was escorted to the counselor's office in which she was waiting. And scowling. She's good at scowling. And was wearing tight, tight leggings, black with gold lame leopard spots. Hideous.

When Diva left the office to change her pants, this counselor (not Diva's regular guy) informed me that Diva has anger issues, is racist, and hates the fact that I am white because she (Diva) is black. Yeah, duh, this I've been suffering for years. YEARS!!! Then Diva's assigned counselor showed up so we moved to his office. Nice guy. Diva feels comfortable talking to him.

Then the vice principal came in. By then I had learned that the principal wanted me to take Diva home because of her behavior. Seems that when Diva was offered a change of pants from the school's clothes closet, she went ballistic. I can picture it. I've seen her do it thousands of times. Scream and yell and cuss at the adults trying to help her. Bitch. Oh, get this: the lady who offered her the clothes, a Mrs. R, has told Diva that she's a brat. My kids have dealt with Mrs. R before. Or rather, Mrs. R has dealt with my kids. Diva told us about the "brat" comment yesterday evening when Superman had his computer opened. (My computer hasn't been on since the day I wrote the previous post.) He looked up the definition of "brat" and lo and behold, it describes Diva (and Sproing) to a T. So I told Diva it's the truth. Diva has also been called a bitch (not by the adults, not in front of her anyway) and that's true, too.

I implored the administrators to keep her at school. By then I was a blubbering mess, eyes and nose leaking all over the place. Counselors kept shoving boxes of tissue at me. I said that she'd already been suspended for three days and it's so early in the school year. She was at school for one day, Thursday, before they wanted me to take her home. So they said if she could behave herself the rest of the day she could stay. Thank the gods in heaven and hell that she did. Stay at school, that is. Because by then I was a hot mess. I was shaking, crying, not able to think clearly about much of anything. I was honestly afraid of what might happen if I took her home. Really. I had a very strong urge to hurt her very badly. Either hurt her or harm myself. It could have gone either way.

This is actually a kind of progress, maybe. See, in the past I've always turned my anger and grief inward, always aimed to hurt myself. That I want to do serious bodily harm to this brat/bitch is, I think, a good sign. In context, anyway.

So Diva stayed at school and I went home, crying all the way. Took an Ativan (1 mg) as soon as I got home, then showered. After half an hour I still was wound up tighter than a watch spring, so I took another Ativan. By then my dear boy C was home, and he sat on the bed beside me and talked me down, so to speak. I had my bedside clock on my chest, waiting for 15 more minutes to see if I needed another pill. I didn't, thanks in part to C.

I was at the school for over an hour. The whole shebang, starting with Sproing, lasted a little over two hours. I finally went to sleep sometime after 11:00 and slept until Superman got home around 5:00. I had to cry on him for a while. He fed me some supper and I took another Ativan. I needed it. I sort of watched the Phillies beat the Braves (and anne marie cheers!) in a drugged stupor (me, not the Braves) before falling into a deep sleep once again. Sleep is best. It's the closest I can get to dead without actually dying. Not that I'd mind dying, but other people would be very upset. So I just sleep.

All day yesterday (Saturday) I felt pretty fragile. The brats were bratty, but I stayed in my room and Superman dealt with them. I tried not to take another Ativan because they are very addictive. Some of the stress and shakiness I felt when I woke up yesterday was an after effect of the drug. So I waited. By the end of the day I needed another one, but I didn't take it. Had some pain-reliever-PM instead and slept pretty well last night. Had a weird dream about an arsonist in New York City and a deaf girl, but that's beside the point. Probably. (Freud and Jung might have a different opinion, but I don't care.)

Superman took both the brats to the skating rink last night to get them THE HELL out of my house for a while. I was asleep when they returned. (Oh, I tried to watch the Braves vs. Phillies game last night, but was too anxious to watch baseball. Baseball, y'all. The second most boring (maybe third if you count curling) sport on television! (Golf being the most boring.))

Curling in funny pants. Like golf: boring and the players wear funny pants.

To continue: When Superman got the kids home, he had a talk with each of them individually. He told me about it this morning. He told them it was their fault that I was going nutty, and that he did not want to put his wife into a psychiatric hospital due to them being such horrid children. And that if he heard either of them saying anything disrespectful to me, he would hurt them. Pain, he said. They were suitably intimidated. But that was last night. Who knows what they'll be like today. 

Diva got up and went to church with a friend, and Sproing spent the night with a neighborhood friend, so he's not home now either. Superman pretty much kicked Sproing out last night, knowing he'd go to his friend's house. Good enough for me. It will be interesting to see how long it takes the boy to come home today. It's just past noon now. 

Superman called my therapist last night. She talked to me for a while, I told her what all happened and how I feel. Asked her about psych units around here. The hospital in town closed its psych ward a few years ago, though there's talk of opening it up again. My therapist likes the one in Greenville, she said. Not that it's time for me to go there yet. Probably. She also said she is going to talk to a lawyer friend of hers on Monday about getting these kids deemed incorrigible, and perhaps they will be removed from the home on that count. I have my doubts. It's very difficult to get rid of one's nasty children. We've been trying for years. I don't have the strength to look for an alternative placement for them right now. Too traumatized. 

Today's post has been brought to you by the word Traumatized. 

Oh, Look at the Time!

As in, it's been a long time since I posted. I've been either busy, depressed, or hiding.

Tonight I had lots of beer. I drank all 5 of the remaining beers in the refrigerator.

We bought another refrigerator. It's a used one, only 10.5 sq ft. It sits in our bedroom. The original purpose of this refrigerator is to keep our beer safe from predation by the other residents of this household. Yes, someone (or more than one someone) has been swiping our beer. What cads! So I got a used 'fridge so we can keep our stuff secure behind the locked door of our bedroom..

There are too many people in this house. Twitch has an alternative situation that might (I hope!!) come to be. A friend of his has a place in Charleston SC and is looking for a third roommate. Twitch has already applied for jobs in that area online. I really hope he can move to Charleston.

The kidlets have been much easier to deal with this summer than in previous years. And actually Diva is sometimes pleasant! Can you believe it? Sproing is a pain in the ass, but I'm not letting it get to me much. Here's the thing: I went away for three weeks (you remember my trip to New England, right?) The separation helped the relationship between me and the kids. While I was away, Superman kinda let loose of the reigns a bit. He's not as strict as I am anyway. So when I came back it was easier to keep the looseness than to impose more restrictions. And I've loosened up on my give-a-shit. So they do whatever and I don't care.

Of course that's not entirely true. I keep tabs on them, and give some direction. But since I've loosened up they seem to be more willing to do what I ask of them. Most of the time. Diva more than Sproing (OMG!!) because he's a pain in the ass.

I've been on edge today. Why? I dunno. Had my period last week, so it isn't premenstrual shit. Maybe it's that my home is stressful. Could be, eh? OMG, the week before my period was hell. I was so cranky, and realized it was hormonal. Poor Superman. I tried to stay out of the way of the kids as much as possible. I recognize when I'm unreasonable.

Hey, lets see what this dog of ours looks like.

 His name is Oreo. I don't like that name, particularly, but that's what Sproing likes. It was what he was called as a puppy, when we got him. It's a name, so whatever. As often as not I call him "pup."

 He's more or less adorable. And bigger now than he is in these pics. He's nearly 6 months old now. He had his balls chopped off earlier this week, and starts obedience class later today. He's pretty smart, and very puppy-like. Weighed 45 lbs on Wednesday when he had his surgery. He's got a lot of Labrador in him, and some pit bull, according to the kid who gave him to Sproing.

Oh look! It's Superman! I like this picture. He's a cutie. I don't notice it when I look at him, but in these pictures he looks older than I perceive him to be. 

 And check out our produce! While I was on my trip this pair of squash was harvested from our garden. I had to get a picture of it to share with you, since it looks so much like a scrotum. I mean, am I right?

How fun is this? We didn't eat it. They picked it when I was away, and by the time I got home it was far from fresh. Oh well.

So, let's talk briefly about this garden thing. We planted green beans, squash, zucchini, and tomatoes. Here's the thing: I don't like squash or zucchini. Besides which, the zucchini plant died from some kind of bug infestation. We've eaten some of the green beans, though I've thrown out more than we've eaten.  I've also used some of the tomatoes. There are green ones on the vine which I'll harvest at the proper time.

So we planted this garden with things I don't like. WTF? I dunno. And Superman is too busy with work and stuff around the house to cook up any of this stuff.

I'm quite tipsy. I've been depressed most of the day, and decided I'd do the beer thing tonight while watching Braves baseball. Didn't have the first beer until the 8th inning, when we were leading the Cardinals 4-1. That was the final score, btw. After the game I continued with the beer. I'm dizzy and feeling smooth, but the headache is there, too.

So. Depression. Superman went to Georgia today to visit his family. Good for him. I'm glad he gets to do that. I hate that he's away, though. Sometimes he takes one of the boys (Diva isn't welcome in his parents' house after beating me up a couple of years ago) but this time he went by himself. So everyone else is home. They all drive me crazy. Wait. This paragraph was supposed to be about depression. OK, so I has it, the depression thing. I hate summer. Maybe things will be better when the kids get back in school. Their first day is Aug. 20th. Less than a month away! I need me time with none of these pariahs at home.

Let's talk about parenting. I've given up, sort of. Diva and Sproing are 15.5 years old now. They are responsible for their own behavior. They do what they want. I leave them alone. That's not entirely true, of course. I just try to keep things together with the minimum effort. I can't do any more than that. They've broken me. I just don't give the kind of shit that I used to.

It's officially Saturday. It's my brother's birthday today. He's 49. Hee hee hee. I can't wait to tease him next year. I'm two years older than he is, so anything I say he's already said to me. That's not why I started talking about Saturday, though. I haven't even opened my computer since sometime last weekend. All week I've been either watching TV (which I rarely do) or reading from my Kindle. I've read I don't know how many gay romance novels/stories. I read a straight romance today. It was weird. The two main guy characters fell in love with women. WTF is up with that? It's time for another gay story, or else something of high quality. I have a collection of E. M. Forster works on the Kindle.  The novel I read today was not well written, so I need something of quality to wash out my brain.

I have another book, a paperback, that I started earlier in the week. It's entitled The Hoarding Handbook. It's written for social service providers who deal with hoarders. It isn't specifically for mental health professionals, rather it is written by mental health professionals for others who deal with hoarders. I have read the first three chapters. It's good, I guess, but hard to read because I see myself in it. I got it so I might be able to help myself a bit with getting rid of the crap I've hoarded. It's a slow process, especially since I keep distracting myself.

OK, I'm going to quit this rambling and get ready for bed. It's high time I went to sleep.

Good intentions

Of course I've been meaning to write. Almost wrote a post last night, but was too tired.

I got a lot of good work done yesterday. I fixed a rather elaborate dinner. It wasn't all that fancy, but I ended up spending a lot of time in the kitchen. It was a good meal, too. Roasted chicken, low fat sweet potato casserole, and a simple salad that Superman made. Oh, and homemade yeast rolls. It's the dessert that took so much time and used so many eggs. I made an angel food cake, using a dozen egg whites. That left me with a dozen egg yolks. So I made a big double recipe of chocolate pudding. Have you ever made pudding from scratch? It's time consuming. Not terribly difficult, though not  simple either. Anyway, I had fun with it. Dinner was a success, the food part anyway. The table conversation, not as much.

Because the kids were at the table with us. Diva and Sproing got deeply involved in a spat. Again. For the second night in a row. Twitch didn't help, adding his opinions to the fray. And right now, honestly, I can't even remember which particular mess happened last night or the night before. And I don't remember details of the arguments either.

One of the things I was going to say last night is that I'm doing better with the kids. I've been more involved in the household, spending a bit less time hiding in my room. That seems to help some. Sometimes. And yesterday morning I woke up before 5. I lay in bed thinking about making waffles, and finally got up and did that. That's one of the things that kept me in the kitchen for so long yesterday. I made a huge quadruple batch of waffles, with plenty of leftovers to freeze. Think Eggos, only better. That used 8 eggs right there. Yeah, I went through about two dozen eggs yesterday, all things considered. The sweet potato casserole used one, the dinner rolls used another couple. I had a brief nap after lunch, but had to get up to pick up Sproing from bad kid school. He gets out at 1:45. School starts around 8, more or less. I can't remember exactly. Superman takes him in the morning, I usually pick him up in the afternoon. It's a relatively short school day. Shorter by an hour than the elementary schools. Think of it, though, a whole school program full of troublesome students like Sproing. They don't hang on well throughout the day (Sproing's medicine wears off early sometimes) and who wants to deal with that much grief for a long time? So yeah, they only have about five hours of school. I guess that qualifies legally as one day's instruction. They have to get their required 180 days in. Except for when the kids get suspended. Which Sproing did last week. Did I mention that? Yeah, he got suspended from bad kid school for three days. What a mess. Kinda like this paragraph, which is a huge mess. Let's leave this particular travesty and begin another paragraph, shall we?

So, better at dealing with these kids, right? Well, maybe. Or not. Let's discuss today. (Must we?) (Yes, Java, go ahead and get it out. It'll be alright. Take a deep breath, be calm, etc.) This morning I got a call from the high school, from one of the assistant principals. Diva was in trouble and needed to be taken home. Her regular assistant principal was out of the office today, so another one had to fill in. Diva was not suspended or anything, just sent home for today. Because she was not cooperating in class or something. What she did was get up and walk out of a class after the teacher refused to allow her to leave. That's the mood she's in. She got into some argument with another student or students before school and let this attitude affect her behavior. So she was sent home. Except she wouldn't come out to the truck when I got there. So I went in to get her, but she wouldn't go with me, she wanted to see her guidance counselor. Fine. We go in to see the counselor. She doesn't want me to go with her. Tough, I'm your mom and you don't get to choose these things. She told the counselor about the drama with the other girls. He said something like "OK, I see that problem, but look at your choices now. You are the one who's letting this attitude affect you. You can't change their behavior, you can only control yours." You know, that sort of thing. She huffed out his office and went back to class. WTF? She's been sent home, she can't go back to class! I didn't know where she was and asked the nice lady in the attendance office to help find her. Yeah, the kid went to her next class. The nice attendance lady (she really is a nice woman. I like her.) sent someone to escort Diva to the front office where I was waiting to take her home. You can imagine Diva's attitude by now.

We got in the truck, I told her to put on her seatbelt, and she refused. Good gods, is this how it's gonna be? So I turned the truck off. We aren't moving until you put on your seatbelt. Fine. We sat there for 45 minutes. In the heat. (Thankfully it isn't as hot and humid as it has been.) I ended up calling for the school resource officer to help. He got her to fasten her seatbelt. We came home. I told her she is grounded for the long holiday weekend (they are out of school Monday, oh my aching ass). She wouldn't give me her phone, but called her boyfriend (he's 13. Where is he that he can talk to her in the middle of a school day?). Anyway, a bunch of yada yada yada like this shit for a while. Superman came home. He tried to reason with her. Nope, no good. So he spanked her with his belt. No good. She ran off. We called the police to report her as a runaway. She actually came back home, was in the back yard but we didn't know it. Sproing saw her back there. So the nice police officer came over, talked to her, talked to Superman and me a bit.

Before Superman went back to work he talked to Diva again, this time she listened. She did her laundry (one of the things I told her to do) and said she would clean her room and the bathroom. I haven't checked up on that yet. I keep thinking I'll get up and go check, but alas, I can't seem to motivate my butt off this bed and away from the computer. Yeah, I'm afraid of her. My defenses don't want to subject me to her presence.

I took away the curtain from her window. I took away her rat (hamster, but whatever). There isn't a whole lot that she has that we can take away. Oh, about the phone. She refused to give the phone to her dad, so he went to the mobile phone store and had it disconnected. So she might have the physical phone, but she has no way to call, text, etc. anyone she wants to talk to. I think she can still call the emergency number, so that's good there, I guess.

Superman called a few minutes ago, asked about supper plans. I have some stuff I can throw together for dinner, but he wants to go out to our default location. So he's picking up some cheap nasty take out pizzas for the ne'er-do-wells and we'll go out tonight. I wonder if that's the best decision. Perhaps we should stay here to supervise the mayhem. But I can't think clearly right now. He says he's considered it, and the best option is to get away from them for a couple of hours. Hopefully pizza will placate them for that long.

I really don't know what else to say. There are some other things happening in my life, I think. I sewed some this week. Made a dress that I plan to paint. It's a plain muslin thing I put together to test the pattern. I want to use the pattern on other fabric, but want to make sure the pattern works for me. So I have this white dress that, for the most part, works pretty well except the color. So I'm going to paint it so it looks fantastic. That's the plan. I have to be more calm and sane than I have been today for that to work at all. I tried to do a couple of other things this afternoon, but was too frantic and scattered to accomplish anything except sitting here playing Mahjong Titans and surfing the 'net. I hate this crazy feeling. I really thought I was starting to get my shit together better than this, but I didn't count on the Diva Explosion. I suppose I should have. She always does this eventually.

Hell, I don't want to talk about her anymore right now. I'll post this, change my shirt, put on some shoes in preparation for going out with my wonderful husband. Yeah, that's the plan.

Misc.

This song has been floating around in my head since mid afternoon today (Saturday). I don't know why. It's been years since I thought about it.


And for some reason pedophilia has been on my mind this afternoon, but I think I know why. C and I had a discussion about a woman he knows whose father sexually abused her from a very young age. In addition to emotional damage, she has physical damage from his abuse (both physical and sexual). There is a lot I could say about who would do such an evil thing, but I won't go there today. This conversation meshed with the topic of hell. Hell: is it real? Is it a place, some ethereal plane where "sinners" spend eternity, as I learned in church? I don't think so anymore. Nowadays I am more inclined toward the idea that hell happens here and now, caused by people doing terrible things to others.

Superman took all three of the kids to Carowinds today.  It was a treat for me to be here alone (well, except for C and his buddy). I had a very good day. I spent a lot of time with the dog (which reminds me, I owe you pictures of this dog. I also need to keep taking pics of him because he keeps growing). He's still getting the hang of doing his bodily eliminations outside. I watched him very carefully today and he did most of his business outside. Progress! He's a sweet puppy.

I also baked some bread. I considered doing more baking, but did other things instead. I went to the grocery fairly early this morning, leaving for the store around 8:30. I was gone an hour or so. Earlier would have been better, but the crowds weren't bad. I got through the checkout very quickly.

The other fun thing I did with all this alone time was start a new sewing project. I enjoy sewing, but don't do it often. It takes a lot of creative energy, and when the kids are here they drain my energy, making it nigh unto impossible to start a sewing project. I also need a chunk of uninterrupted time (minimal interruptions, at least) and with these trolls here that doesn't happen much.

I sort of wanted to take a nap, but decided against it. I have all this time to myself today, why waste it sleeping? Maybe I'll nap tomorrow (Sunday).

Let's see, what else was I going to tell you?

Sproing, as I think I've mentioned before, is now going to the alternative school, the place where delinquents who can't be civil in regular school spend time "refocusing" on their education. Yeah. About that. He was suspended from the alternative school for three days on account of he wouldn't sit quietly and do his work in class. I don't know about that boy. So he was home on Friday, and will be home Monday and Tuesday. This is  not the way I want to spend my days! This is yet another reason I don't have a job outside the home. We don't trust these kids to stay by themselves for very long. A few hours every so often, sure, but not all day every day of the week while Superman and I are at work. You'd think that by the time they were 15 they'd be responsible enough to take care of themselves. Nope. Not these two.

For the past two or three days Sproing has been relatively well behaved and cooperative. This is a big change from the week or so previous. O.M.G. That kid has been horrid. He's talking to us in a manner one does not talk to one's parents! Except he does. He argues about every little thing. He deflects the conversation (argument) from the topic at hand to insignificant side issues. He is supposed to be grounded right now but earlier in the week he just ran off with his friends and stayed out until almost 9:00, after dark. Didn't care that he was grounded. Wouldn't cooperate with anything. Screamed at me and his dad, was rude beyond belief, and hurtful too. He says some of the most hurtful things. I'm sensitive to it. He knows my buttons, dammit. I'm supposed to be able to remove my emotions from the conversations, let his comments roll of my back more samer than a duck with water.

The early part of the week was awful. On Monday I met with the Continuum of Care team to get Sproing back on their client list. I got a letter today saying that our request is denied. Evidently there are community resources we can access to help with his behavior. OK. Yeah, in the meeting I got a couple of leads for resources for him. Haven't checked into them yet. Frankly, I forgot. But the rejection letter today reminds me.

The meeting was difficult, as I had to discuss his behavior and defend myself as a parent. The other people in the meeting were kinda tough on me. They didn't say anything that isn't true. You know, they stepped on my toes. It was hard. I feel like I do the best I can with that boy (and his sister) but they're saying "you can do better." Well shit! This shit is hard! But they are right, there are things we can do to improve the way we handle it. It is really really hard to focus on the details when all hell is breaking loose around here! As parents we are not as consistent as we should be. There is too much chaos in the household. We get emotionally overwhelmed too easily.

On Tuesday I had another meeting with ... somebody. Oh, yeah, my psychiatrist. I laid into him about my troubles, and he said "sounds like you need a therapist." Yeah, well, I have one of those. Two, actually, since we've got a family therapist coming to the house once a week for now. I don't know what I was supposed to say to the good doctor. "Hi. I'm current on my meds. Nice weather we're having. Well, see ya' in three months." He gave me some advice, most of it useless. He doesn't work with children and adolescents, and I don't blame him. Those kidlets are tricky. So he doesn't know how the systems work. He suggested placing them (one or both) into an alternative living arrangement. Oh, doctor, you are so far behind the curve here! After a while I quit listening to him. The only thing he said that was marginally useful is to think of myself as a survivor rather than a victim. I'm not sure exactly how to do that, but it's something I can contemplate. He said that I am smart and something else, maybe intuitive or some such. Anyway, that I can figure this shit out if only I try harder. Made me want to cry.

Then on Wednesday I met with Sproing's counselor. He and I went in to the session together. He usually goes alone, but I needed to talk with the counselor (Marie. She's pretty good, actually.) about his atrocious behavior. He was in the office too, and he demonstrated some of his nasty attitude and rude behavior. Marie pointed out how I was falling into his trap, taking the bait he set for me. After maybe 15 minutes he got up and walked out. Fine. The little son of a bitch. So Marie and I finished the session. It was easier without him. She told me I was smart and intuitive or some shit. Pretty much the same thing my psychiatrist said. I cried. I started tearing up a bit before Sproing left, and I suspect that's what triggered his exit. He hates when I cry. He acts like a total shit, it frustrates and hurts me, I cry, and he gets upset. WTF?? Marie told me to be stronger (I'm starting to tear up now as I type this), not to take his bait. She told me to keep doing what I'm doing, be consistent. Basically, I (we) need to keep up the parenting. Even in the face of total failure (what it looks like from here. She says it isn't total failure, but I fail to see that) we need to continue to stand firm and guide the boy. And the girl, for that matter. I feel so overwhelmed, but the message I got for three consecutive days was that I need to muscle up, rethink my reactions to this shit, quit being overwhelmed and get stronger. Damn. I mean, DAMN. Dammit dammit dammit.

And ever since the counseling session on Wednesday Sproing has been trying to behave himself. He has had a good attitude, mostly, and isn't arguing or going into a rage the way he was for more than a week prior to Wednesday. He is easier to deal with now, for sure, but I know nothing has changed, really. He's still the same, and something will happen to tip him into the anger pool again. Don't know when, it could be tomorrow, or he could be copacetic for another week or maybe two. But then he'll lose his shit again and drag me through the emotional furnace. And in the meantime there's Diva. Who pulls the same shit, only with less predictability. And less self control, which gets really scary.

So, to review: I'm a failure as a parent, except I'm not. I'm smart and CAN figure this out, except I can't. Or haven't yet, anyway. Oh, and the family therapist has also told me that I am smart and creative and can figure out how to handle their shit. He said that a few weeks ago. I actually really like this guy, but sometimes he pisses me off. Or maybe it's me who pisses me off. I don't know.

OK, it's so late that it isn't even today anymore. I didn't get a nap today, and got up pretty damned early considering how late I went to bed last night. So I'm gonna shut down and go to sleep now. Well, soon. Eventually. Aw hell...