Rules are Rules . . .

Well, now I feel like the creepiest mom that ever walked the earth. I know that I shouldn't, but I do. I know that I did the right thing in holding him accountable to the "house rules", I still feel very conflicted about the whole thing.

I did manage to sleep in this morning until 2PM. (I stayed up extra late last night for that very purpose.) Unfortunately, when I woke, I found that Nick had not sobered up as planned. Instead, he decided that the best way to avoid a hangover is . . .that's right, a little of the hair of the dog that bit him. (or in Nick's case, a LOT more.) As I walked through the kitchen, Jennifer winked and whispered to me that she had "lost" her keys. She really doesn't get it. Jennifer's just so crazy in love with my son, she has no idea how much she is enabling him. She seems to be content to cajole him with her sweet manipulations and baby talk. She doesn't realise that I was done with that bull shit years ago. I guess she thought I was going to congratulate her on her cleverness of hiding the car keys from him. Instead, I gave her a serious look and said, "You need to take him home - now." I don't think she was expecting that response. Moments later, Nick was upstairs to confront me.
Once again, for what seems like the hundredth time, I am explaining the rules to him. Very simply: You are welcome here, in our house, only on the condition that you remain drug free and sober. If you can't do that, you have to leave. I guess that's what bothers me most. It sounds like I am setting conditions on my love for him, and of course, that's the way he chooses to interpret it; But I'm not, I am setting consequences for his behavior and choices. So the two of them load up their stuff and they leave.

45 minutes later, as I am talking to Jasmin on the phone, I turn to see the two to them sitting silently on the family room couch. Nick, on the verge of passing out, Jennifer, snuggled up next to him. I end my phone call , and ask them which part of "go home" they don't understand?
Nick, being way past the point of talking, says nothing. Eventually, Jennifer explains that on the way home, Nick insisted that she make a pit stop at the liquor store. They argued and she hit a curb. The air bags deployed, and cracked the windshield of her car. Rather than throwing his ass out of the car, and going home to her parents house - which is what I would have done - she decides to have a gentle and loving heart to heart chat with Nick about his drinking. After she talks him into a state of sullen silence, she brings him back home to me! Why does she keep doing that?!?! All I could do was shake my head and walk away in order to avoid screaming out of frustration. I sat in the kitchen listening to her beg and plead with a mostly unconscious man. After a couple of cigarettes, I finally had to go down stairs and spell it out for her.

"Jennifer, " I said, "You're wasting your breath talking to him. He won't remember any of this when he sobers up. Take him home, and put him to bed. Check on him once in a while to make sure he's okay, and hasn't choked on his own vomit, and wait. If you insist on having a relationship with this guy, you better get used to waiting. When he is sober enough to talk, you can have your say, but the two of you can't stay here."

If I wasn't so weary from dealing with drunks and drug addicts for the past 18 years, I would have given her some really helpful advice. Like. . . 'RUN!! Get away from this guy as fast as you can because, a deployed air bag and a cracked windshield, is just the tip of the iceberg in a long list of things you will lose.' But I couldn't. Partly because, I was sure that she wouldn't believe me. But mostly because, I just wasn't up for reliving the past 18 years of Hell. Most of the practical, helpful advice that I could have shared with her, are things that I don't like to think about, much less explain to a naive, doe eyed , 18 year old girl, who believes she's in love with my son. I love him too. I know exactly what she sees in him, and more than anything, I want him to be loved by someone who appreciates him for his good qualities. Deep down, I do believe in love, but I know the cost as well.

So, yeah, I feel like a hundred different kinds of shit right now. I am going to do Kate's meme, but I think that I'll wait until to night, when I feel a little less frazzled.

Love ya,
Susan

Is it Monday yet?

Ugh ! It's a dreary, rainy Saturday. I finally drug myself out of bed at Noon. I think that was my first mistake. The last couple of days have been chaotic, and when I came down the stairs to see the results of my household neglect . . . well, I was over whelmed to the point of depression. I just wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and ignore the world. Looking back, it probably would have been a good plan.

I spent my entire day on Thursday, outside, taking advantage of the cooler weather. Well, at least it was cooler than the previous scorching heat. After a few weeks of upper 90 degrees, (37C.) a few days of lower 80 degree temps (27C) feels like heaven. So anyway, I spent the day walking the dogs and doing yard work. Which meant my kids had free reign of the house.

Friday, Nick and his girlfriend showed up unexpectedly. Actually, I did invite him over to celebrate his birthday this weekend, but I thinking more along the lines of dinner and cake on Sunday night. (since his jaw is wired shut, it was going to be Taco soup and chocolate cheese cake) However, Nick's room mate decided to throw a three day party for the weekend, and I couldn't really bitch about him making the choice to stay at my house for a few days. ( silly me, I foolishly thought he was actually trying to stay sober.) So instead of having a day or two to put my house in order, I had to rush around and finish buying the kid's school supplies, stop by the doctor's office for some lab work, drop Heather at the church so she could go to World's of Fun with the youth group, throw together dinner, and pick up a few movies to keep everyone entertained. Nick wanted to watch the Bucket List, with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, and I snagged a copy of Jumpers at Blockbusters. We had a good evening together, But, Oh my Gosh, my house was trashed this morning !

When I woke this morning, Nick and Jennifer had mysteriously disappeared, and Roy was at work. Heather was still sleeping off her day at the amusement park, and Jake had just wandered downstairs a few minutes before me. The carpets and furniture were covered with dog hair, the dishes were piled up and over flowing in the sink, Popcorn, shoes, clothes, dirty dishes, were everywhere. And I just didn't want to deal with any of it. For once, I was in the mood to do some work in my art room, but no . . . my obsessive/ compulsive disorder wouldn't allow it. There is just no way I can ignore my house when it is that trashed. I really wanted to, but I couldn't. Unlike everyone else in my house, my mind simply won't function in a chaotic environment. It's taken me years of struggle to tolerate even a minimal mess that 4 children, 5 dogs, and 1 husband can create on a daily basis, but once it exceeds a certain level, I fall apart.


I had no choice, I started cleaning, all the while getting more and more worked up. Now, my rational mind knows that this sort of thing doesn't bother my family, it's not their issue, it's mine. I was feeling frustrated, which lead to feeling sorry for myself, which eventually lead to anger.I just wanted to have some "me time"! I know that it's childish, and I hate being like this! So, I'm grumbling and cleaning, knowing that I could easily spend my whole day doing this crap, even though I don't want to, and no one else will even notice.

Finally, around 3PM, I shut off the vacuum because I hear my husband's voice.I go to the kitchen and everyone is home, chattering away, raiding the refrigerator, and making plans to go fishing. Part of me is relieved to discover that they are getting out from under my feet, so I can get some work done; But at the same time, knowing that Nick is going fishing with Roy and the kids, sets off an alarm in my brain. The last few times that Roy and Nick went fishing turned into disasters because, Nick just. can't. quit. drinking. And I certainly didn't like the idea of Heather and her friend tagging along. So now, I can add fear and apprehension to my emotional turmoil ! All I could do was go upstairs to my room and have a nervous breakdown. Finally, Roy comes in and reassures me that he will keep an eye on Nick, and everything will be fine. (Right, whatever. )

Jake is not a fisherman, so as soon as they left, I tried to distract myself by taking Jake to Walmart to buy him some new jeans and shirts for school. Yesterday, when I was there picking up school supplies, I spotted a top that I really liked, but I didn't want to spend the money on it. Today, I bought it. I also got a couple pairs of new jeans for myself. (What? they were on sale!) I think Walmart should change it's name to the Hundred Dollar Store because, I can't remember the last time I got out of there without spending that much.

When I got home, I put on my new shirt and felt instant happiness. For the past few months, I have noticed a pattern. Whenever I feel depressed or worried, I feel a desperate need to buy something new - doesn't matter whether I need it or not. It doesn't have to be clothes either, it could be anything - a new book, a drawing pad, a plant, anything. "Comfort" shopping? Oh God, that's just what I need, another disorder. I would be a psychiatrist's wet dream. I'm not sure that I care anymore. I feel like I have lived my whole life surrounded by people with their own self destructive craziness - it was bound to rub off on me sooner or later. Besides, if they can be selfish and stupid, why can't I? Why do I always have to be the sane, rational one who always does the right thing? (Just because I know better?) UGH, Never mind. Disregard that last paragraph of bullshit. I just realised what I sound like - I DO know better. (But I'm keeping the shirt anyway!)

Anyway, They did, eventually, make it home - sober, no less. Nick couldn't stand it though. He didn't even take time to help Roy unload the fishing gear from the van. Without a word to anyone, he jumped in the car with Jennifer and disappeared for 30 minutes. When he came back, he was obviously wasted. To make a long story short, we had words. Actually, I had words - Nick, had disjointed thoughts, and slurred speech. I really have no idea what he said because, his mouth is wired shut, and whatever he took, was in addition to twice the normal dose of pain killers. So really, the whole conversation was pointless, as usual. Eventually, he stormed out of the house wearing only his boxers. ( don't ask - it's a really long, complicated story, and It still doesn't make any sense to me.) He said, that he and Jennifer were going
home, and at that point, I really didn't care. They were gone for a couple of hours, but now they're back. Jennifer says, that she managed to talk to him and calm him down. Well, that's nice, but why the hell did she bring him back here ?! He's already passed out in bed, which is good. This may not sound very maternal, but I sure as hell don't want to deal with his sorry ass in the morning. Thank you very much, but I've been there, done that, and it's not pretty.

I keep wondering how long it will take Jennifer to feel the same way? I really like Jennifer, she's a nice girl. In fact,she's too nice. She isn't helping Nick by tolerating his shitty behavior. I'd say that he needs some one to kick his ass, but someone has already done that, and it hasn't made much of an impression on him either.

Anyway, I don't think I'll be making the same mistake twice. Tomorrow, I'm staying in bed! I don't want to know what the house looks like, I don't care what they eat, or what they do. I'm taking a sick day, and I'm not getting up until everyone goes home and I can have my life back.

Good night.

JDLR

JDLR. That's copspeak for "Just Doesn't Look Right." It's a phrase that I heard a policeman use a couple of weeks ago on one of those reality cops shows. Strangely enough, It's an accronymn that I find popping into my mind more, and more often, as my youngest litter of children approach and enter their teen years. There are days when everything in my life seems JDLR. And I think we all know, if it's JDLR, then it probably isn't right, and somebody should probably go check it out. Too bad that "somebody" is usually me.

This afternoon, as I was making my bed, I happened to glance across the hallway and spied Jacob and Patrick ransacking Heather's bed room. JDLR. No one goes into Heather's room during the day - not even Heather. I really didn't want to, but I asked them what they were up to. Their response: "Uh . . . looking for some string."
"Why do you need string?" I asked.
"For uh . . . for . . .something." followed by suppressed giggling.
When I hear answers like that, I have to stop and access the possibilities. How much trouble could they get into with string? Do I really want to know? I thought that I was pretty safe, but I decided to wait and see where they were headed. A few moments later, they left Heather's room, empty handed, and went down stairs. I thought I could relax. I finished making the bed, scraped Roy's dirty sox off the floor, and tossed them in the hamper. As I came down the stairs I heard hysterical laughter coming from the kitchen. I hurried down the steps and turned the corner. Since they couldn't find any string, they had snatched the scotch tape dispenser off my computer desk. One end of a 5 foot length of tape was wrapped around the neck of a headless, slightly mutilated, naked, Bratz doll. The other end was secured to one of the blades of the ceiling fan over the kitchen table, wobbling and turning at high speed. The footless legs were bashing against the curtain valance as it whizzed past. The two of them were looking up, rotating there heads on their necks the way a a couple of cats would watch a bird. Except, they were laughing like maniacs. I cleared my throat to get their attention, they turned to look at me, and at that moment, the tape broke free of the fan blade and the centripetal force sent the Bratz doll flying through the air, missing their heads by inches, slamming it into the cupboards. Which of course, sent them into another round of hysterics. For the rest of the day, they made a game out of sneaking various objects into the kitchen and trying to attach them to the ceiling fan. At one point, I came home from the corner store to find four bowls of dry cereal balanced on top each fan blade spinning at slow speed. The boys were outside skateboarding.

As I sit here now, the two of them are in the kitchen having a sword fight with a Chuck it ball throwing stick, and an empty iced tea pitcher. The dogs are scurrying in between them, barking at them as if to say, JDLR ! Mom! JDLR !

I think I am going to take a Tylenol and go to bed.

Love,
Susan

My Baby is Growing Up.

Hey there!





I'm getting a late start this evening because, I had to make an unscheduled, and unexpected, trip to the 24 hour Hy-Vee down the street. My youngest child would die of embarrassment if she knew I was writing this, but this is a mile stone. My baby girl has just started her period. She's only 11 years old ! But, I guess I was 11 or 12 as well. I can't believe how cool and calm she is about the whole thing - way too worldly. God, I remember being a nervous wreck! Sure, we watched the films in school, but I was SO clueless. Of course, it wasn't as easy as peel and stick back then. Besides, I didn't have a lot of girlfriends, and my mother and I weren't real close. Talking to my mother about anything as personal as my period, ranked somewhere on the stress meter around a twelve. I would have rather marched into the school Principal's office and confessed to cheating, than to discuss my period with my mother! I'm just glad that I have a different kind of relationship with my kids. Over the past year, Heather has brought up the subject several times. Her biggest worry is, if she will have any discomfort. I've been sort of talking to God about that, and praying that she is one of the lucky ones. Heather's tolerance for pain is ZERO . So far, so good - Thank you, Lord!

This afternoon, I got the kids enrolled at school. I still have to shop for their supplies and school clothes. I guess I'll do that this weekend. I think that Jake is looking forward to going back. Why wouldn't he? School is just a big social event for him. He doesn't know yet, but this year, there are going to be some expectations, and consequences, for him.
Heather is a little more anxious about the whole thing. I think she'll do fine. I've seen her blossom over the summer, both physically, and in terms of confidence. I'll be sure to get her some cool clothes and then, she'll be the one driving me crazy! Oh, life is SO grand!
I think I'm looking forward to finding some kind of routine and rhythm. Life has just been a bit too spontaneous lately - too much chaos, too many kids coming and going. I need a bit of routine to keep my self anchored; otherwise, I start to feel like I'll float away into the atmosphere like a big, over inflated balloon.

I think I'll hold off to start back to school after the holidays. With all the insanity that has happened lately, I've run out of time to enroll. I could probably still pull it off at the last minute, but I just don't want to feel stressed and anxious about it; I want to enjoy it. I'll take this fall to get myself organized, and for once, I'll have a reason to look forward to holidays.

Today is Nick's 23rd Birthday. Now that he has a girlfriend, he has plans of his own, and he's much too busy to come hang out with his mom. I think that's a good thing. I just hope that he is behaving himself. I told him we could celebrate this weekend - maybe we can throw a cake in the blender or something? Having his jaw wired shut, sort of limits our options a bit. Poor kid.

Well, I need to get my butt off to bed. 'Night all.

Love,
Susan

If it isn't one thing, it's another . . .

Right now I'm sitting here, smoking a cigarette, while yet another stimulating episode of Sponge Bob Square Pants plays in the back ground. I'm just havng a hard time getting motivated to do much of anything. It's not that I don't have things to do, I just can't seem to find any justification for doing them.

Last night, as I was shutting things down and heading off to bed, the phone rang. Jasmin has been dealing with abdominal pain for the past week, and it chose last night to flair up. I parked myself on the couch in the darkened house, and discussed her options for dealing with her problem. After about an hour of discussion, she contacted her doctor, and she was instructed to go to the emergency room for testing. She called me back and asked me to meet her there. Once again, I found myself throwing on clothes, and waking my husband to tell him that I was leaving in the middle of the night.

Once again, this E.R. visit turned out to be a total waste of perfectly good sleep time. Not that she didn't have a legitimate problem, but that we found ourselves in a hospital full of incompetent, over paid, morons. Their response to her pain was not to discover the problem and fix it, but to offer her pain killers and send her back home. Her doctor specifically requested that they do a sonogram, and a CT scan, if needed. After running basic blood tests, doing a pelvic exam, and a urine test, they felt confident that they had covered their asses well enough to feel safe in sending her home. They really couldn't be bothered to adhere to her doctor's instructions because, it was 3:00AM, and they would have had to call in technicians to preform the necessary tests to do their jobs properly. I've been to three different emergency rooms in the last week. I've pretty much concluded that if anything happens to me that requires treatment at an E.R., I'd prefer to just be shot in the head. Or maybe, they could take me to the vets office and have me put to sleep? Dear God, just don't take me to a hospital !!

Anyway, I finally fell into bed at 4AM this morning; and I dragged myself out of bed at 12:30 this afternoon. In spite of getting a full 8 hours sleep, I still feel exhausted, frustrated, and just generally overwhelmed by life. Why is it, that the harder I try to get my life back on track, the more it seems the world conspires against me? Is there an evil plot to make me insane? Is God sitting in Heaven, chuckling at my frustrations, testing me to see what it takes to push me over the edge? Nah, God wouldn't do that to me . . .Right? All I know, is that a couple of weeks ago, I could clearly see what changes that I needed to make to accomplish my goal of a sane and orderly home life. I had a clear picture of what things would look like on a day to day basis. Now? Eh, who gives a shit. I just want to crawl back into bed and sleep until the world figures out how to function, without pulling me in a million different directions. I really thought that after taking my "literary cruise" this weekend, I'd be able to jump right back into life, set things in order, and get things done. But apparently, my plan was doomed before I had a chance to begin. I know, I know, the rational part of me says that life isn't just about being organised, and creating structure and stability; but it's about rolling with the punches, and dealing with the unexpected. I've always been able to do that in the past. It's just that lately, it seems like re grouping and moving forward doesn't come as easily as it used to. (Partly because it seems so pointless) I keep wondering, am I just struggling with a particularly hectic "season" of my life, or is it me? Is my tolerance for temporary chaos wearing thin? Am I on the verge of becoming one of those rigid old women, with no patience for life's spontaneous interruptions? I don't want to wake up one day to discover that I am done with life, before life is done with me. But the truth is, I feel worn out. I'm tired of fighting to create something sane and rational out of chaos - it feels like a lost cause.

However, having said all that, I already see a major flaw in this particular line of thought. The reality is: I am 46 years old, and I'm up to my eyeballs in this life, and all it's imperfections. It's not like I can just take my ball and go home - that ceased to be an option about 25 years ago. In all truthfulness, I wouldn't have a clue how to start over, or how to do anything else. Instead of bitching and moaning about the unfairness of it all, *sigh* I think I'll just take a nap, and try to approach this from a different angle, with a better attitude. What the hell, if it turns out to be my destiny to become one of those cranky old ladies - I'll just take up drinking, and play it for all it's worth. No point in letting my "golden years" go to waste.

Okay, that's my new plan - for now. Uh, okay, I guess that really doesn't qualify as a plan, but I'm just rambling on about crazy shit anyway.

Love,
Susan

Happy Endings

Hey,

Me again. I just finished up my book this afternoon. What an incredible read!! It was exactly the kind of escape that I needed. I was so worried about how Stephenie Meyer would wrap things up. I have to say, I'm very satisfied with the ending. She did an awesome job, it was worth the wait. Without a doubt, it was the best of the four books. People who had followed the series finally got all of the spectacular events they had been waiting for, and a lot of new and unexpected things besides. If you get a chance, I highly recommend it. You might as well grab all four books while you're at the bookstore because, you'll be hooked after the first couple of chapters. The next big event is the movie that's based on the first book: Twilight. That comes out in December!

Now, unfortunately, it's back to the real world for me. The real world isn't really so awful; but I always know, even before I start a book, that there will be a price to be paid for my escape. I've lots of catching up to do around the house. Plus, for the next week or so, I have to focus on all the added last minute preparations for the kids return to school. (Oh! and Nick's birthday is coming up on Tuesday!) I tried not to procrastinate this year, but this summer started off with so many unknowns and uncertainties. Of course, I'm pleased with the way everything has worked out, I just wish I'd had more time to prepare. Some how, I always feel like life is a game of "catch up", with me being the last to know anything. Oh well, I'm not complaining. One of the things I've learned, is that it can always be worse!

Well, I need to get myself off to bed and try to start off fresh this week. Good night.
Love,
Susan

Weekend Vacation.

Hey there,

I just thought I'd drop you all a note to let you know that I haven't fallen off the edge of the earth, I'm not in the midst of a personal crisis, and all is well.

I've just decided that after the past week, and all the insanity, I'm in need of a vacation. I'm tired of being grown up and responsible. I've dealt with doctors, and policemen. Managed bloody, unreasonable, injured drunks. Handled their girlfriends and families. Cooked and cleaned for family and guests. I've ran kids to back - to - school hair appointments, and parties, bought shoes, paid bills, done my yearly medical and lab work, and cared for a pack of five dogs.

As of Friday night, I have been sucked into a good book. I'm reading the last book of the Twighlight series: Breaking Dawn. The laundry hampers are over flowing, the beds have gone unmade, the dishes are piling up in the sink, and the carpets are covered with dog hair. I haven't cooked a single meal, and it's just too hot to walk the dogs. And I don't care. I still have another 200 pages left, and the world can wait untill I return. I am on holiday for the weekend !

Hope everyone else is having a geat weekend as well.

Love,

Susan