Spring Break!

See that exclamation mark in the title? I don't really mean it.

I have the depression monster sitting on my head today. Eh, whatever. I'm used to it. I don't even want to be not depressed, necessarily. I know how to do this depression thing. It's comfortable. Sort of. And everything around me (except Superman) triggers my depression. So I might as well embrace it.

So, Spring Break. Easter, as you probably know, was this past Sunday. We didn't do a thing toward celebrating it. Why bother? I don't believe in so much of what the Christian churches teach, so whatever. I did, however, buy myself a small chocolate bunny on clearance at the grocery store on Monday. So yay, happy Easter.

Being Easter and all, the schools are out. No school last Friday, and no school all this week. You know what that means. Kids here all day. Or in and out all day, with me concerned about what kind of trouble they're getting into if they aren't here. Sort of. Mostly, I'm trying not to care what they do. The depression is helping with the Not Caring thing. Spring Break also signals the impending school summer break, which lasts a painfully long time. Only about five weeks now until school's out for almost three months. Plus, it's hot here. Or it will be then. Actually right now the temps are not too bad. Warm, but not terrible.

The pollen is pretty bad, but if I stay inside I'm OK. I don't want to get out of the house anyway. Unfortunately there are things I must do. My allergies are better than they were a couple of weeks ago, so that's good. And we've had a fair amount of rain which helps wash the pollen out of the air.

A couple of things about Diva:
First the good news. Yes! There is good news! Last week was the 31st anniversary of our wedding. Superman and I eloped in March of '83 a month before the planned wedding. Then we did the public wedding thing to make our parents happy in April. We usually celebrate the March date, but Diva got wind of the April anniversary and made dinner for us. It was really sweet. She made a small cake with fruit compote topping, broiled some whitefish and dished up some carrots and applesauce for us. It was quite nice of her and I thanked her and hugged her and everything. Also, she makes really good cakes. I suspect her daddy helped with the fish. It was cooked just right. All in all a good evening. So score 1 for Diva.

Yesterday she had her intake interview with Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ). That fight she had at school in January resulted in a criminal charge of public disturbance or something. I can't remember exactly what the charge is. So DJJ needs demographic information and assorted other crap for their files. So we did that. She was surly. I survived.

In the process of the interview she mentioned that she was still upset about an incident of molestation she experienced last year. I may have mentioned it then. It happened March a year ago. Superman and I were of course concerned about the molestation and have done what we can to help her. She's been to the local sexual abuse counseling place for some services (forensic interview, physical exam, STD testing) but refused any counseling at the time and when offered since then. Until yesterday. She told the DJJ agent when he asked that yes, she does need to talk to someone about the trauma. OK, backing up a week or two, she came to me all in a dither one Saturday recently. She'd been in serious trouble for some now-forgotten offense and was undoubtedly grounded. She started out crying about some other wrong that had been done unto her, then segued into this lament about how traumatized she is by the molestation incident.

I do not mean to minimize the impact of her being molested. It was an invasion of her very being. She was spending the night with a friend, and the ex-boyfriend of the girl's mother came into the room where they were sleeping and fondled her. She told the friend's mother the next morning, mother called the police, Diva was taken to the hospital for whatever it is they do in those cases. We followed up with the police detective who was on the case, with the sexual trauma center, and everything else we were supposed to do. We were sympathetic and concerned about her, as much as I can be sympathetic to her in light of all the abuse she has heaped on me. I really do care.

Anyway, that recent Saturday she complained bitterly that I hadn't done anything, or didn't care, or something about how upset she still is because of the sexual abuse. Just a few days prior to this someone from the sexual trauma center called to check up on Diva, see how she was doing. I was sitting with Diva at the time, and asked her, told her who was on the phone, etc. She said she was fine. So here it is Saturday and she tells me she has flashbacks, can't sleep at night, is afraid this guy is peeking in her window every night. This is all news to me. She hasn't said one word about it for months and months. I asked if she'd like to talk to someone to help her deal with her feelings and she said yes. So the following Monday I called the sexual trauma center to set up an appointment for her. The woman I needed to talk to was at lunch, I left a message, she never got back to me. I didn't follow through. Then this week Diva tells the DJJ agent that she needs to talk to someone about the abuse. I told him what I'd done and that I hadn't followed up, he told me to follow up. Yes sir, I certainly will.

I think it's impossible for me to be brief in telling a story. Sorry about that, y'all.

After we left the DJJ office in the courthouse downtown I drove directly (through the pollen) to the sexual trauma center, a mile or so south of downtown. I figured that showing up at this place, since I was already out anyway, was easier than me remembering to call back. Well, now Diva refuses to get out of the truck to come in and talk to someone. I went in, explained the situation, and after a few minutes a very nice young woman came out, willing to talk to Diva. Also, see, Diva is in regular counseling with a therapist at the local Dept. of Mental Health office. Has been for years. I mentioned this to the nice young woman who said it would be best for Diva to discuss these things with the therapist with whom she already has a good working relationship. I said "Makes sense to me. Don't know why she hasn't." But Nice Young Woman was willing to talk to Diva if she'd come in. So I went back out to the truck and Diva still refused to budge. So I went back in, thanked the Nice Young Woman, and took Diva home. Because shit. You know?

And I strongly suspect Diva is just jerking my chain. She's being manipulative. Perhaps she is traumatized by the molestation, I don't know, but I really think she throws it in my face to distract me from her other misdeeds. I have done what I can for her. I'm willing to get her the help she needs to the best of  my knowledge and ability. She, in typical Diva style, refuses to cooperate with me.

When I got home I called her therapist at the dept. of mental health, told her about the events of the day. I asked if she and Diva had worked through any of this sexual abuse trauma Diva claims to suffer. Therapist didn't remember Diva having been abused. I thought we'd told her, was sure we had, and she said, "Yes, I vaguely remember now." Therapist said she worked for four years at the sexual trauma center before taking the position she has now with Mental Health. I laughed. Because, of course. Nice Young Woman told me that Therapist was trained in exactly the same kind of therapy they use at the trauma center, and would do exactly the same thing they'd do there.

Diva has an appointment to see her Mental Health therapist next Tuesday. We shall see what we shall see.

Oh, back to the whole Spring Break and everyone's home thing. Diva Darling posted a threatening video on Facebork attacking the same girl she fought with last January. (This is related, trust me.) The police are involved with that, too. I got a call, again, from the assistant principal. We've come to know each other well this year. Gosh, that happened over a week ago I think. It took a while for consequences to hit because the Individual Education Plan (IEP) team had to meet to determine if Diva's behavior in this case is due to her clinical diagnoses before the assistant principal could hand down the punishment. We, the IEP team, decided that, no, Diva's threatening video was not related to her clinical diagnoses. Therefore Diva gets suspended for four days. Remember I said the kids were out on Friday? We had this IEP meeting last Wednesday, so Thursday was Diva's first day of suspension. The following three days of suspension occur Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of next week when school in once again in session. Fuck My Life. She gets an extra long Spring Break. She did the same thing before Christmas, got I can't remember how many days suspension just before the Christmas break to make it an extra long vacation for her. I feel so fucked over. To add insult to injury (if that's what this is) Sproing got suspended for three days the week before last, and he was at home last Monday and Tuesday, back in school Wednesday and Thursday, then off again now. At least he goes back to school next Monday.

And this is a preview of our summer break. Kids home and arguing with me and each other 'round the clock. I feel stressed.

In other news, Sproing took an all-day driving class two weekends ago, and has the practical driving part of the class this week, this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon. He has already scheduled a time with the DMV to take his driving test for his license. The boy wants to DRIVE! Sounds like more opportunity to get in trouble to me, but whatever. He is a good driver. He's young and stupid, though (age 16) and I fear he will wreck the car. Superman needs to up the insurance coverage before the kid does any driving. I need to ask him about that.

All of the kids (Twitch included) need to find jobs. The kidlets for the summer and Twitch for permanent. Mostly he mopes around the house. He'll go out looking for work a couple of days a week maybe, but he spends a lot of time at home moping. Talk about depressing. He says he wants to get a job so he can move out of this house, away from his siblings. Well, then, Twitch, get off your lazy ass, get out there and WORK, dammit!!

I have no energy to confront any of them about any of this. I hide in my room reading (mostly) gay romances all day. It's light reading, doesn't require much brain work. No, this isn't healthy. Right now I don't much care. In related news, I see my therapist on Thursday. We will discuss my coping strategies and probably come to no conclusion.

Superman got himself a new computer and a new tablet recently. They're cool. I've used the tablet a few times. It's good for cruising the 'net, I suppose, but I much prefer a keyboard to write anything. His computer works so well! Turn it on and -ta da!- it's on. Mine takes about half an hour to boot up completely so I can surf the web without it freezing up on me. Most of the time. My computer is six, maybe seven years old now. Vista was the great new thing when I got it. I upgraded to Windows 7 and got myself a few more Gigs of RAM (or something) when Windows 7 came out. Now that Superman has a new computer, though, mine looks less and less appealing.

That's all I have today. Sorry most of it is so morose. And long-winded.

The bitch is back

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diva's school honeymoon period is over

She made it seven days before getting suspended. I got a call from her grade principal this afternoon. This grade principal is different from last year's. We have a woman this year, Mrs. S. She seems like a nice lady. We had as pleasant a chat as possible considering the circumstances.

Diva's offense: hitting another student (male) in the head/face with a three-ring binder. The story as I understand it: the boy got too close to Diva as they were getting their supplies for class -binders or calculators, I've heard it both ways. He might have pushed her, but he definitely got too close to her. According to Diva (as related by Mrs. S.) he called her a bitch. According to Sproing (he's in that class, too, but was on the other side of the room and missed most of the drama) she told him something along the lines of "get the fuck out of my way." It sounds like something she would say. Also, by the way, not that it makes a difference, but she is a bitch. However, it's inappropriate for anyone to point that out on school property.

I haven't seen Diva yet. She either went with the volleyball team to an away game or rode home with her friend on the other school bus. So I haven't heard the story from her. Sproing told me the story according to the injured boy, who told Sproing. The kid's eye was bleeding. Sproing says the binder hit him in the eye ball, but I'm not sure it wasn't just the skin around the eye. I don't know.

I had to stifle my laugh while on the phone when I learned that Diva hit the poor kid. Sounds just like her. Really really didn't want the principal to hear me laughing at Diva's antics. I feel sorry for the boy. Hopefully he will stay out of her personal space from henceforth.

The girl is suspended for three days beginning tomorrow. She'll be home Friday, (Sat, Sun) and Monday is a holiday (Happy Labor Day) so that doesn't count. Suspension days continue Tuesday and Wednesday. It seems she often gets suspended on days that correspond to holidays and/or weekends. So yeah, she gets a whole week off. And it's my pain in the ass to get to keep her busy and NOT having any fun for a week. Oh, we'll let her slide (a little bit) over the weekend, but tomorrow and Tuesday and Wednesday I'll have work for her. Housework if not school homework. Haven't discussed it with Superman yet, but she'll be grounded for the time, including the weekend.

That will be difficult to enforce on Saturday, when Superman, Twitch and I drive to Charleston to deposit Twitch in his new digs. I think I don't care. We'll tell her to say home and get (list of chores) done, but if she goes off with friends, what can we do? If she's still gone when we return, she'll be in deep weeds.

I feel like shit. Here it is, all over again. I have an annoying desire to beat her with a whip.

Any suggestions about what kind of chores around the house she can do?

Not one but TWO crazy children!

So yesterday I told you that Diva went all batshit and set fire to her bedroom. Well, to a small pile of trash in her bedroom. The more I think about it, though, the more it disturbs me. She easily could have caught the whole house on fire. I don't need that shit.

Today at school she told a guidance counselor that she tried to kill herself yesterday by setting herself on fire. Seriously? I don't think that's exactly what happened. She didn't burn herself. The fires? (she also lit one in our fire pit in the back yard) Maybe just a means of expression. I don't really know. Anyway, I got a call from the guidance office that I needed to come pick her up and take her to the emergency room because of this threat of self harm. I picked her up, indeed, but took her to the department of mental health office to talk to her therapist. Much cheaper than an ER visit. I've taken her to the ER three times within the last year for that reason, and she's never serious about the threat. It's attention seeking behavior. We had a brief conference at the school before I took her. In attendance were two people from guidance and the school resource officer, plus me and our service coordinator who just happened to be here to meet with me when all this shit went down. Diva admitted to the group of us that she did not intend to hurt or kill herself.

So we left, Diva, me, and the service coordinator, and motored to the Dept. of Mental Health offices where Diva condescended to actually communicate with her therapist. They had a lovely talk and Diva was all sweetness and light afterward. WTF. I took her back to school.

That whole exercise took 2.5 hours out of my morning. I barely had time to get a bean burrito from Taco Bell on the way to the doctor's office for my 1:00 appointment. The doctor checked his handiwork on my belly (from the hernia surgery three weeks ago) and said all looks good, I can do whatever I please. Well, that's nice.

I got home from the doctor's office and headed for the shower. Didn't have a chance to get one this morning before being called to the school. Checked my phone as I was disrobing, as I'd turned the sound down in the doctor's office. Lo and Behold there was a missed call and voice mail from the 9th grade assistant principal. This time the call concerns Sproing, who got into a fight during lunch and is now suspended for six days. Please come pick him up now. And you know, I had just begun to feel a little bit better after the escapades of this morning. So instead of taking a shower, I drove back to the high school to nab Sproing. I am not amused. He is not humbled by the experience. I told him he is in trouble, and he says he isn't. Dude. It's not your decision as to whether or not you are in trouble. You choose your behavior, Daddy and I decide what consequences result from that behavior. He doesn't get it. Superman had to come home and apply the belt to his backside a couple of times to rearrange the boy's thought process.

I did finally get my shower. I'm now in Superman's old night shirt, sitting on the bed telling you all about my mess. And I've had an Ativan. Frankly I don't feel much better. Maybe not as frantic as I was, but I am still shaky and emotionally fragile. Have only had 1 mg, am going to take one more. Then perhaps I'll take a nap. I like naps.