Hello

I keep thinking I should write something, but nothing sounds interesting.

Manny, my truck, is in the shop. The passenger window came off its track today, so they'll fix that, and I told my guy to go ahead and fix the bad oil leak. Maybe then the truck will be ready for a nice long road trip. Unfortunately a long road trip isn't in the budget, especially after paying for the repairs. Oh well. I do hope to get to the mountains of North Carolina for a camping trip this summer. Probably not going farther than that, unfortunately.

My life is boring.

Superman and I have been going to the gym almost every day, doing the weight machines and treadmill (me) or elliptical (him) on alternate days. Did that make sense? Every other day it's weight machines, the other days it's treadmill/elliptical. Tomorrow is a treadmill day for me. This is a boring topic.

I had an argument with Sproing today. Nothing new. We were in the truck (right before he knocked the window out of its track) on the way to his doctor's appointment, arguing, when I got pulled over by a state trooper. Why? Because Sproing wasn't wearing his seat belt. HA HA HA!!!  He got a $25 ticket and a lecture from the state trooper. I got to watch it all. We were only a little bit late for the doctor's appointment and it wasn't a big deal, thankfully.

I've been sewing some more. I made a dress that doesn't fit right but have an idea of how to adjust it to make it work. The arm holes (it's a sleeveless jumper) are too tight in the front. I'm going to have to hack up the bodice a bit. I'm making this shit up as I go along. I really don't know what I'm doing.

Which leads me to my current theme song.


And that's about all I got tonight.

Random ramblings, and a teaser

Braves swept the Chicago Cubs in the three game series that ended this afternoon. Excellent pitching by the Cub's starting pitcher, a really tall, kinda sexy fella who's name is hard to pronounce (spelled Samardzija)   but who only lasted into the 6th inning. Things got better for the Braves after he burned out.

The game ended with the Cubs having 1 run, the Braves 5. Boo yah! Samardzija seemed to get really angry in the 6th inning when his pitching deteriorated. I don't know what's up with that. Yeah, he's sexy, but that anger isn't. (Do a Google image search of Jeff Samardzija for more pics of the sexy giant.) 

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Another thought about my father: the man bought 48 pairs of black socks the week before he went into the hospital. He was obviously planning to come back home.

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The trolls go back to school tomorrow. Spring break is over! Yes, I'm excited. Spring break is a trial run for summer vacation, though. In a few short weeks school will be over for the year and these young'uns will be home pretty much all the time, unless we can find a way for them to be otherwise occupied. Jobs would be good, though at 15 years old there are limited employment options for them. We shall see. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the hours they are in school.

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This week will be a good opportunity to do more sewing. I finished up one skirt and made a complete other skirt before the Delaware blogger gathering. Yay me. There's a dress pattern I've had in mind for a couple of years that I'd like to complete before I head back to Florida. I have had the fabric for it since, I don't know, 2010 maybe? But I need to make a sample from plain muslin first to adjust it for proper fit. I'd like to wear the dress at the Life Celebration party. Also, I got a haircut yesterday. I had the gal leave it a little bit longer than I'd prefer because I have to look like the daughter of the deceased in two weeks (two weeks from today, actually) and not like some hillbilly power dyke (no offense intended) in town for a rumble.

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I started this in the middle of the afternoon. It's 10:00 pm now and we haven't gotten as far as I intended. But of course now I can't remember what else I was going to say.

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I'm trying to cook more healthy meals these days, and eat less of the unhealthy stuff. I've found a great blog to help me out. It's Victor's husband's food blog, The Food You Choose. Tonight I made tilapia with greens and noodles. Except that I had flounder instead of the tilapia I thought was in the freezer, and I didn't make any noodles or rice or other starch to go with it. It was pretty good. I used bok choi and purple cabbage and  a little bit of shredded carrot for the veggies. It was colorful, pretty, and tasty. Superman liked it. None of the children would taste it. They are trolls.

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I have increased my beer consumption a bit, which is not helping the weight reduction. I blame the children. Mostly. The teenagers have been so damned frustrating today I'm about to wring their little necks. So tonight I'm drinking beer to numb the discouragement and resentment I feel concerning those trolls. They are trolls.

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Here's the tease: we have a new puppy. I haven't got pictures yet and I want to give him his own blog post for a proper introduction. Stay tuned. Perhaps tomorrow while those teenagers are at school I can get down to the business of  chronicling the introduction of a dog to the Java household.

Hair, mostly

I got a haircut today. As I have noted previously, haircuts freak me out a little bit. It seems such an intimate, personal activity, not one I want to share with just anybody. Unfortunately I don't know any beauticians/barbers well enough to entrust my hair to. (bad sentence!)

This song keeps popping in my head when I sleep. It's been the song in my head when I wake up recently. I don't know why.



So I went to the beauty college this morning to get my hair cut. It's cheap but takes a long time. I told the gal I want it short. Yes, short. No, shorter than that. Cut all that part off. I explain it's been a long time since my last haircut, it's grown out a lot longer than I want it. But these sissy bitches don't take me seriously when I say short. I sat in the chair while the instructor, the student assigned to my head, and one or two other students with more experience chopped on my hair for a while.

The chatter was about children. I'm not in a good place regarding children these days. They's all crazy. Babies are OK as long as they're someone else's babies and I don't spend too terribly much time with them. Babies and toddlers are cute. Anything approaching teenage is terrifying. These ladies in the beauty chop had misbehaving children on their minds. I hate it. My kids are crazy bad. Maybe it's my fault they're so bad, maybe I take them too seriously. Maybe I don't take them seriously enough. Comparing my kids to those of others is depressing. Hell, just bringing up the topic of my kids is depressing.

Eventually I accepted my gal Brenda's work on my head. Yes, that's good. Thanks so much. I left a small tip. I came home. Kept running my fingers through my hair. Looked in the bathroom mirror. The top of my head looked square. It parts on the left, and the hair on the right side of my head was bumped up, squaring the form of my head. It needed to be shorter there. Hell, it needed to be shorter in lots of places.

Yes, I did.

I scooted a few things out of the way, then put a towel-sized piece of fabric (towels have too much nap and catch and hold loose hairs) over the sink and counter in my bathroom. I got my small sharp sewing scissors and started cutting. Clip-clip here, grab a chunk and snip away at it there. This seems longer than the other side. No, wait, I thought she shortened that bit more. It needs trimming. More snip-snip, clip-clip. Covered all over with short hairs. I hate that part. Itched like crazy. Finally figured I'd better stop clipping before it got too ugly.

I shook out the hair-covered fabric off the back patio, then took of my shirt and shook it out, too. I dazzled the neighbors' back yards with my fat body in nothing but my undergarments for a minute there. Don't think anyone saw me, don't care if they did. I came back in for another shower and shampoo. The head didn't look too terrible when wet, and now that it's dry it looks, well, not too terrible I think. Maybe. But I can't see it well.

Superman came home for lunch. He noticed my haircut, but didn't notice that I cut it myself. That's a good sign, but not proof that it isn't butchered. Diva's case worker says it doesn't look too bad, and I trust her opinion about hair more than I trust Superman's.

Diva got her hair did last weekend. She's all kinds of proud of it now, and wanted me to take her picture and post it here for all to admire. So here she is.

My doctor sent me to a physical therapist for my back. I've never done PT before. Had my first appointment this afternoon. It was relatively painless, but took a long time. The feller says we're going to work on strengthening my back muscles and stretching (gently) to increase range of motion. I have simple exercises to do throughout the day. Twenty seconds at a time every hour or two. I can handle that, methinks. I see the physical therapist tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. and Friday at 9 a.m.

My kids are home from school now and are irritating me. Sproing is springing and clapping loudly and yelling and arguing. Diva is quiet, but Sproing is arguing about her. He's been mouthing off to her and her social worker. "I'm just kidding." No, son, that behavior is disrespectful and annoying. But he won't hear me. He's too busy yelling at me to listen, and blames everything on others.

I'll write more about my crazy in another post. I felt very very crazy when I started writing at noon, but now I'm too distracted, too numbed by over-stimulation. And I wanted to try to write about it. I need to figure WTF it's about.

A quote and other observations

Every man is a damned fool for at least five minutes every day. Wisdom consists in not exceeding the limit. -Elbert Hubbard, author, editor, printer (1856-1915)

I exceed the limit nearly every day.

I had good day yesterday. I spent the midday with my little old dying lady (Hospice volunteering). She's a hoot. Her stories get a bit confusing sometimes, especially when the details change from her being the child in the story to being the mother of said child. She has some great stories. My favorite from yesterday involves domestic violence, and it's funny (I think, anyway). As a young bride-to-be, she took her future husband to visit her parents. He asked her father if there was anything he should know. Future father-in-law said "Yes. If you ever hit her, make sure to kill her with the first blow. Otherwise she'll kill you." Yes, my little old dying lady is a spunky gal.

She also told of a friend of hers. When they were both young married women the friend often appeared with a black eye and assorted other bruises and evidence of attack. When she asked, the friend admitted that her husband was beating her. My gal said "Why don't you hit him back? Knock him upside the head with a frying pan." Oh, no, she was too afraid of him. So my gal told her to wait until he passed out (he was one of those violent drunk wife beaters) then tie him up in a sheet. Then beat him. She said her friend took the advice and wasn't victimized by the fool again.

It's a lovely rainy day here in The South™. We've had high temps in the upper 70s this week, with some powerful sunshine. I'm glad the rain is bringing cooler weather. It's a perfect morning for a nap, which I intend to partake of after I hit "publish post."

I took Diva to the beauty "college" to get her hair did last night. C's ex, N, is a student there. He was sick yesterday so didn't go to school last night. Diva's 'do took a long time, during which I sat knitting and listening. Interesting stuff. One of the girls has become N's friend-girl, and we shared notes. I love hearing the rest of the story in the gay dramas.

I told you about the fuck buddy, right? About how he and N have been enjoying each other, but did I tell you that once or twice he's been here with C? Well, I found out last night that N knows that the fb has been with C, and N suspects (no confirmation) that the fb has been f'ing the Youngster who shares the apartment with N. If you need a reminder, Youngster and Other Guy are a couple. Youngster left Other Guy when C left N, but returned to him a week later.

So of course when I got home from the Hairy House of Gossip I had to bring C up to date with events. When he heard about the fb and Youngster possibly (no confirmation) twisting the sheets, he was highly amused because Other Guy, with whom he's been friends for years, would blow a gasket it he found out. I asked a few questions and come to find out that Other Guy is a stickler for the double standard. It's OK if he gets a little on the side, or if he participates in some group activities on his own, but he is totally not OK with his boyfriend getting any from anywhere else. Yeah, he's a real jerk.

C has spent a little more time with the fb recently, but not in bed. They've started working on a project together. The more he gets to know the fb, the less he likes/trusts him. I've been suspicious of the guy from the start. He reminds both C and me of C's first boyfriend, S. There's some ugly psychopathology in that basket. C has decided that the fb will no longer be a fuck buddy for him. A wise decision, imho.

I don't watch soap operas. I don't need to. I live in one.

So Diva got her hair done last night in a style that she requested. It's a black girl Mohawk; close braid (twists, actually) on the sides and curled in a wide strip from forehead to neck. And she hates it. The gals curled her hair very tightly, and she wanted looser curls. Thing is, those tight curls will relax in a day or two and be just right. If they'd curled them looser, the curl would un- in a couple of days. This way the curl stays viable for upwards of two weeks. Diva is only concerned about Right Now. She was a pouty bitch when we got home. I spent four hours and a passel of money to get her hair done up right, and she resents the whole thing. Shit. What a teenager! She seemed a bit less bitchy this morning. I really hope she has a good day today. Those middle school girls can be wickedly cruel, and have been to poor Diva in the past. I really do sympathize with her about the social peer pressure mess. I wish she didn't take it so personally, but of course she wouldn't be a "normal" teen if she didn't. As far from normal as she is in some ways, this part is in the textbook.

Mental Floss sells a product called the Baby Owner's Starter Kit and a Toddler Owner's Manual. Though I haven't read either, I'm sure they're quite amusing and possibly informative. What I don't see at Mental Floss is the Teenager Owner's Manual. I need one. Perhaps I could write one myself? That might be fun, actually. And possibly cathartic.

That nap is calling loudly. Hopefully I'll be back before too long.

Please Advise

I'm flummoxed.  And appalled.  It's S.

I'm concerned about his lack of motivation and initiative.  I feel some of that has been influenced by me coddling him, not being as demanding as I should be.  He is responsible for his actions entirely, of course, but I'm afraid I make life too easy for him.  

He is 18 years old, will be 19 in November.  He dropped out of high school about a year ago.  He has been employed twice in the past 18 months (more or less), both times for a fairly short period.  After he got himself fired from the last job he has not earnestly looked for work.  He will deny that.  Yes, he's looked for work, but not earnestly.  He doesn't want to work.  

He also hasn't done anything significant about getting his GED.  He talks a big talk, but there's nothing to show for it.  There are a few different places in town he can go to get ready for the GED.  At least one of them is free.  There is a cost for the test, and his current excuse is that he doesn't have the money to register for it.  It all boils down to the fact that he just hasn't made much effort.

So what does he do if he's not working or going to school?  Mostly, he stays up all night playing video games or the card game Magic.  Then he sleeps most of the day.  Occasionally he'll do a bit of his and C's laundry, and he likes to cook.  He baked a few pies last night, and left some of his dirty dishes in the sink.  Recently he hasn't been leaving as many dirty dishes in the kitchen.  But he doesn't thoroughly clean when he's finished, either.   

S is cute and charming, but that doesn't go far enough in real life.   His greatest talent is making excuses.  He's very good at it.  And I get so frustrated with him that I often don't know how to respond.

We have a counter in our laundry room for the purpose of folding clothes.  Mostly what happens, though, is that stuff gets pulled out of the dryer and piled on the counter to wrinkle and get dusty.  It had gotten pretty bad again, so I had Diva and Sproing clean off the kitchen table, then Superman told S and the young'uns to get everything off the counter and take it to the table, where they were then to fold it all.  All of them.  S dug through the pile and got his things, then tried to escape to his room.  I told him he needed to help fold all of it.  He argued and made excuses, saying that over half of the stuff in the pile had been theirs, so most of it he was going to fold in his room.  

That wasn't my point.  I want for him to take a more active role in household maintenance.   He needs to make a larger contribution.  Not just to take care of "his" stuff, but to help out throughout the place.  He needs to earn his keep, basically.

Remember the thing about them paying rent?  Guess what.  They didn't pay the $50 they owed on the 21st of last month.  S mowed the yard, and we took that in exchange for $15 of it.  Superman said that on the remaining $35 there will be interest, compounded daily.  (I don't remember how much)  What they plan to do right now is pay for last month, this month ($75) and next month ($100) all at once when C gets his college loan check.  That is supposed to arrive on the 15th, a week from Monday.  That's NOT the way it's supposed to work out.  The plan was for them to get serious about looking for gainful employment, not to pay us with borrowed money.  And really, only C got real worried when we started charging rent.  S didn't seem to care much.  I don't know his true feelings, but I saw no change in his actions, so what does that mean?

But I digress.  Here's where I need some specific advice.  Tonight when I was arguing with S about folding the clothes, he got all sassy with me.  He said I am not his mother.  I said no, but you are living in my house.  He said "don't patronize me," and the next words he spoke to me were patronizing.  I pointed out that he is neither working nor continuing his education, therefore he needs to be more involved working around here.  And then he had the gall to accuse me of sitting around doing nothing!  I said to my husband, who was in the room also, I said "Honey?  Did you hear that!?"  He turned and laughed at S, and said "No, no, you do not understand."  I don't remember exactly what he said after that, but the upshot is that S went in to help the other kids fold clothes.  I'm steamed.  

And shocked beyond words.  How do I respond to that?  OMG.  I don't think it necessary to defend myself.  It is true, for the last few months I haven't been very active around the house.  I've been on the computer, blogging mostly, since I quit driving the bus last spring.  I've also had a mild nervous breakdown or two.  I'm looking for myself.  I've spent the last 25 years working to raise these kids and care for this family.  Who the hell is he to question my activities when he is living in my home under my good graces??  

Superman has been chewing on this as well.  He just informed me that he's decided S will mow the lawn, front and back, every week.  And he will clean up the kitchen every day.   

Honestly, I don't think I should defend myself against S's accusation that I am not doing anything.  It is totally beside the point.  A diversionary tactic of his.  What do you think?  Besides which, just this week I have begun to be more active around here.   He isn't aware that I applied to Lander.  And I'm not going to parade that information out just to show I've not been idle.  OMG.  The gall.  And I'm rambling again.

In summary:

• How should I respond to his accusations and excuses?
  
• Should I defend my recent level of activity?
  
• What next?

My favorite teacher, for reasons unrelated to school

NB: Not recommended reading for those who don't want to know certain things about certain things that I certainly did when I was a certain younger age!

This gets a bit naughty. J His name was Tom F., and he was my biology teacher in 10^th grade. He was 34, short and stocky in a muscular sense, and had curly black hair with a sprinkling of gorgeous silver gray strands. And his smile melted my heart! I started crushing on him early in the year. I'd hang out in his classroom before school along with a few other kids. I did very well in his class; I'm smart like that. The subject interested me, but the teacher captivated me even more.

Sometime shortly after Christmas break he was attacked in the hall during his lunch duty. A group of punk-kid types jumped him and beat him up. He was out of school on whatever they call that leave for over a month, I can't remember exactly how long. I hadn't realized how much I depended on seeing him until he was gone. I missed him; pined for him. I got really brave and called his house! We talked briefly, I asked about his recovery and how long he'd be out. He told me what had happened, and I think he was trying to sue either the school or the boys who attacked him. I forget. Anyway, I called him a few times, not every day or anything, and I don't think I was terribly annoying. I tried not to be! And eventually he came back to school.

And I spent the mornings before school in his classroom. He had an office at the back of the classroom, with a door and everything. It was the science hall, and he had science-y type stuff in there. It was a fairly big office, really. Long and narrow. About half a dozen or so students would hang out in his classroom or office before school. Or after school. Or during lunch. OK, I was the only one who was there during lunch. J

He'd smile real big when he saw me. My heart beat faster, my head spun. The sexual tension was palpable. But nothing ever happened that entire school year.

Until the last day of school. Hehehe I'm getting giddy just remembering it! We had never even touched each other. But on that last day of school I was sitting on the counter in his office and he passed by me to do something at the other end of the office. When he came back by he stopped, turned to face me, and we fell into an embrace. I don't know who made the first move, but there we were, hugging each other tightly. I was sitting on the counter, he was standing in front of me. We held onto each other for a long, long time. I didn't want that hug to end, and didn't know what would happen when it did end. And he smelled so good! His hair was as soft as I'd imagined, and his shoulders were hard and strong.

The next day was a work day for him, but the students were finished. I went over to the school to see him. We were grinning at each other in that way couples do when they are giddy about each other. Details are fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure we hugged some more. I don't remember kisses; there may have been some, maybe not. He kept the classroom door closed and we spent a few hours just being together, talking some, grinning and hugging. One of the other science teachers was a friend of his. (That guy was really cute, too, in a slender blonde way. I'd have done him, given the opportunity! But I didn't.) At one point either that day or the next, the two of them played tennis out on the courts behind the school. I watched. I suspect the other teacher was aware on some level about what was going on, though I wasn't party to any discussion of that nature. He seemed real cool about me hanging around.

And then the school year was over for the teachers, too. Tom was attending the local college part time, working on his master's degree. I think he wanted to teach at the community college level instead of high school. Anyway, he called me a couple of times and I went with him to the library at the college. I also remember collecting wild plant samples with him in a field beside a major highway one afternoon. Very public, no touchie-touchie. Oh, and now I remember we went to a small state park not too far out of town to do more specimen collection. And that afternoon we had a great make-out session in the back of his van. You've been wondering if/when this was gonna get juicy, I know.

He had a full sized van, Ford, manual transmission, white. It was a cargo body style, basically empty in the back. There may have been one bench seat, I forget. That was before the invention of the minivan, and it was nice and roomy in the back. Being a cargo van it only had windows on the doors, and his windows were tinted very dark. Looking good, huh? That afternoon we did some very heavy petting. Got past third base, but were tagged out before making it all the way to home plate. He stopped it. I wanted to go on. That was the day I discovered that he had a few silver hairs in the pubes, too. I thought it was really sexy, but he was self-conscience about it. I was a bit shy then, and didn't express myself well. That was then, this is now, baby! Were it happening today I'd express myself strongly on how much I like those sexy silver pubes. But I'm telling a tale of long ago.

Sometime over the summer I moved from my mama's house to live with my dad in a city about 2.5 hours north. I obviously went to a different school for my junior year, and Tom transferred to another school in that district, one that was closer to his home. I think the attack he experienced the previous year was the official reason he transferred. So neither of us was at the old school.

But I'd go visit my mama every month or so. I remember being at mama's during the week some, or sometime when she was at work anyway. She of course knew nothing about my involvement with Tom. She had known I was fond of him as my biology teacher, and she probably figured out I had a crush on him. She's not as dumb as my naïve teenage ass thought she was. But she never knew about our meetings.

Sometime during that winter I was back in town visiting Mama. I called him and he came by to pick me up. We went to his place. This was the first time we had been alone together when there was no risk of interruption. It was time. He kept the thermostat low and it was cool in his apartment. He had a waterbed. OK, it was the 70s! We got nekkid, got onto that waterbed, and pretty soon it wasn't so chilly in there. And oh, it was good! This wasn't my first sexual encounter, but he was the most experienced partner I'd ever had. I learned a lot. And I remember he had lots of stamina. We played for a couple of hours, and he must have cum 3 or 4 times.

I remember how old he was because he was exactly twice my age. I thought that was pretty hot. He probably thought it was hot that I was half his age. I was impressed at the stamina of such an old guy! (My, how one's perception of age changes with advancing years!)

That was the best hook-up we ever had. We got together a couple of times after that, but there was no spark at all.

When I end the memory there, it is a good memory. But that isn't all there is. I'm leaving out my impressions and the insight of hindsight with advancing maturity. I am also leaving out at least one tiny detail. He was in a long term committed (or not) relationship with another woman. A woman of his age. They got married a couple of years later. I knew about her, though I seriously doubt she knows anything about me. For her sake I hope she doesn't. Of course back then I didn't care if he had a girlfriend or not. That was then, this is maturity. Tom was, I see now, lacking a lot of maturity.

I was naïve and immature in the way I communicated (or didn't) about what I wanted or expected of this relationship. Seriously, I don't think I gave it a lot of thought. Hell, I was 17! But I had some expectations. I knew he was involved with someone else, but I hoped he'd at least give me a little bit of consideration. I did want some shadow of a relationship with him, even if it didn't last long. But to him I was a fantasy. He had no respect for me as a person. He didn't get to know anything about who I really am. And at 17 I had a lot going on in my head. In so many ways I was, even at 17, more mature than he was at twice that age. He never knew. He never cared. His loss, the fool.

Superman

I'm worried about Superman. He's under a lot of stress and isn't handling it well. And the little things are bothering him in a big way. Yesterday he was at a mandatory meeting at work, a biggie, some annual progress report or something. While he was there someone stole his good jacket. He is extremely pissed about that.

The kids are getting to him, too. The kidlets, Diva and Sproing, are constantly bickering and picking on each other and everyone else in the house. They are generally annoying, especially Sproing. It's a game to him. Diva is usually OK as long as Sproing isn't around. They both lie constantly, and they have problems behaving at school occasionally. Superman is at his wits' end.

There are 3 teenage boys living here. While each boy is a wonderful young man in his own way, they are nonetheless teenage boys. Characteristic of the species include but are not limited to the following:

• lazy
• wasteful
• self-centered/selfish
• messy
• financially irresponsible
• forgetful
• insensitive
• destructive

You get the idea. It gets tedious living with all of them.

I took a late nap today, so was asleep when he got home with the kidlets. He told me they complained to him all evening. Any and all of them who spoke to him had something to complain about.

He can't wait for every one of them to leave. His primary goal now is to survive long enough for all of them to be out of the house. Without killing any of them.

I hope things get better for him soon. I worry when he is this stressed out.

Life with young gay teenagers

Living with teenagers is a pain in the ass. Living with troubled children is a pain in the ass. Living with a troubled young gay teenager is paining me terribly.

This latest bit of angst is with S. He is a senior in high school, and has been a less than model student most of his life. As I have mentioned in other posts, none of his close family members has ever graduated from high school. He is almost finished. He can do it. He's very smart, but he's very insecure (though he'd die before admitting it.)

He started off the school year with a great burst of enthusiastic energy. His early grades were wonderful. I saw a report from his geometry teacher yesterday. He has failed every assignment and/or test for the last 3 weeks. It isn't that he's too stupid to understand the concepts. He might have to study, to work his brain to comprehend, but he's got the native intelligence to do it. But he has been very irresponsible the last few weeks.

About a month ago C, S, and I went to Columbia (SC, capital city) for a gay pride festival. It was my first! Theirs, too. They met a group of other young people from our area. The gay community in Greenwood is so underground we had to go to Columbia to find others from around here. Anyway, the boys have been spending a lot of time with their new friends. I am glad they are making new friends, friends who have so much in common. This is a healthy thing, but they are being unhealth-ily excessive about it.

They've been staying out all night with these new friends. They got home yesterday at 5 a.m. I know this because I was up, getting ready for work at the time. They hadn't been to sleep yet. And this was a Wednesday morning. S got about 2 hours of sleep before he had to get up for school. This sort of thing has been happening 2, 3, 4 times a week for a month. It is no wonder his grades are slipping.

I have been pouring my heart into helping this kid. There are at least 3 people at the school who are bending over backward to help him. Three "social service" types, one of them is his guidance counselor, have gone to bat for him, helping him get medical attention (he of course has no insurance, and no money of his own.) They've intervened with his teachers, the guidance counselor is working her butt off helping him make up some classes he failed last semester, trying to keep him from having to take the whole class over again. And in all of this, S just goofs off.

I'm afraid he's rebelling, or acting out his insecurities, or some such psycho-bull-shit. And I know he is a teenager; 17, almost 18. Therefore of course he is an idiot, as is my son Twitch. But it is time for him to grow up, at least a little bit. Time for him to act responsible for himself and to the people who are trying to help him.

I had a brief talk with him last night. They got home before 10, like he said they would. First time he's told the truth about his comings and goings in a week. So last night I tried to talk to him. I went in to their room, asked him if he was willing/able to hear me at this time. He said he was. I sat down, looked at him, and couldn't think how to begin. So finally I said "You tell me what I'm going to say to you. You give me the lecture." He asked which one. I laughed, said there were a few that applied right now. He said "Is it the one about responsibility?" Yea, that's one of them. I was trying really hard not to cry. I have been very upset about this. I hate to get all teary and cry when I'm trying to discuss issues I care deeply about, with people I love deeply. Finally I reminded him of a talk we had last week, wherein I discussed all the people who are working to help him right now. I told him that I love him very much, that I am pouring large bits of myself into his life. He interrupted me to say "No one appreciates that more than I do." (Cue the tears. Try to get a grip. Continue, shakily...) Well, dammit, show me! Show me with your actions, your behavior. Quit lying to me about how you are going to buckle down, nose to the grindstone, etc. DO IT, don't talk about it. I told him I feel as though he is taking everything I've done, all my love for him, and throwing it back in my face. Then I told him that's all I'm going to say right now, and I left. No long lecture. (this is progress for me. I tend to go on and on, ad nauseum)

When I said he's throwing it all in my face, he diverted his gaze. He's a manipulative little bastard, very good at lying and charming his way out of crap and into good graces. And I'm a sucker, I let him do this to me more than I should. But not this time. I'm sick of it. I am very hurt, very insulted. I know he doesn't mean to, but the point is he (is an idiot) is insulting me and my family. When he couldn't look at me I know I got through. Don't know what he'll do with that. I am willing, nay eager to talk to him, to talk through emotional stumbling blocks, issues, fears he has about proceeding with his life. Honestly, he probably doesn't even know why he's acting this way. He's very proud, hates to admit weakness. I suspect he's afraid we will stop loving him if he admits (perceived) weakness. He is, after all, only 17. I have told him, maybe not often enough, that I love him no matter what. No matter what he does or doesn't do, can or can't do. But this is a relatively new concept for him, and he's had 16 years of the opposing view from people who are supposed to love him unconditionally. He needs to hear it again and again.

Anyway, I'd appreciate comments and/or suggestions. Thanks.