Jenga

My sanity is like a Jenga tower. Everyday it seems that something removes another block and I teeter on the verge of collapse. And yet somehow I remain standing.

Easter was a bust. I took Braddock and Nixie (our new pit bull rescue) to the dog park. Braddock attacked another dog. It was totally unprovoked and uncharacteristic of him. I was beside myself, profusely apologizing to the couple that had the other dog. Thankfully it appeared to leave only superficial wounds on the other dogs muzzle. Just some scratches, but there seemed to be a lot of blood. I left them my phone number in case they had to take their dog to the vet. I'm hoping I don't hear from them. In hindsight I seemed to be more upset than they were. I swear I'm not a bad dog parent. I was watching Nixie like a hawk because, aside from minor interactions with other dogs at the vet and at PetSmart (where she was super playful), I hadn't seen her interact with other dogs. She did fine at the dog park. I was so excited to get to see her interact and play with puppies. She even rolled over on her back and let them climb all over her. Braddock had been to the dog park several times starting when he was just a puppy. I've never seen him instigate aggression towards other dogs. I have seen him react with aggression toward a dog that's attacked him. I don't know what has caused this change in his demeanor. He isn't aggressive towards Nixie, other than him snapping at her when she's bothering him. He even wrestles with her playfully. Only thing I can do is not take him to the dog park anymore. I still want to take Nixie though. She was having so much fun and didn't even rush to the sound of the dog fight to try and get involved. Hubby will have to plan some special one on one time with him and Braddock so I can take her without him feeling left out.

And now today. I had told my son that there would be no prom if I got another call from the school about him skipping. He did great for a week or two. Today is supposed to be the first day back from Spring Break and, even though I'd reminded him of the agreement, he ditched again. After a long, tearful (on my part), phone call and several texts back and forth he is accusing me of ruining his life, claiming he has it under control and even telling me that he's going to move out, grow up and become successful and call me and rub it in my face. Evidently he doesn't understand parenting. All I want is for him to be successful. He doesn't seem to understand how much what he is doing now will hurt him in that quest. He doesn't understand that everything I'm doing and saying to him now is only to help him achieve success, even if success is nothing more than a high school diploma and a lack of a police record.

I've told him he can't go to prom. He's told me he's going anyway. I know I can't physically stop him, but as of right now I will not help him financially. He's claimed that if I tell his girlfriend's parents that he can't go and why he will leave. And he might. I'm sure he can bounce from couch to couch for awhile, but I don't know if I'm ready to take it to that point yet. I'm really at a loss. I don't know what, if anything, I can do that will make any difference. I've told him if he moves out we'll take him off the insurance and take back his car and cancel his phone. I don't know how much of that is an idle threat because he needs his car for work, and right now that's the only thing he's got going for him.

I keep saying I'm done. That I'm just going to let him do what he's going to do and he'll just have to deal with the consequences. One day maybe I'll mean it.

Really Son?

Wow, I actually forgot what he was like for a second. He had work all weekend. We called him home early a couple nights and he didn't put up a fight. We talked about stuff without ending up in a screaming match. Silly me, I thought these might be signs of maturity. I was even starting to feel bad about his car crapping out on him this morning. I was literally online searching for a fuel pump to see if I could help him out when the school called to tell me that now he's got a girl calling in to try and check him out of class. Thankfully the Dean of Students and I are tight and he didn't recognize the number so he called me to verify.

I want to give up and cut him loose, but these stupid maternal instincts keep believing there might be hope.

It Could Always Be Worse

Had an interesting/disturbing phone call from the father of one of my son's hoodlum friends. Evidently his son has become increasing violent and has even threatened his father's life. This boy has always been in just a little more trouble than my kid. His anger issues were something I had heard of before, but I didn't realize it was to that extent.

Last night after my phone call with the dad I summoned my son home because he had been caught leaving school early after one of his friends called and pretended to be a parent authorizing him to check out. I already knew about this because the Dean of Students had called me. This was something we had discovered had been happening and we were trying to nip it in the bud.  I mentioned this to the boy's dad and he told me he had seen my son earlier in the day with some of the other hoodlum crew. When my son told the boy that he couldn't hang out last night because he'd been caught skipping and that I was talking to his dad on the phone the boy took it to mean his dad had ratted on my son. Evidently this sent him into a furious tirade against his dad forcing his dad to contact me and my son asking us to set the record straight.

This father is currently unemployed with lots of time on his hands to really delve into the goings-on of his son and the boys he most frequently hangs with. He told me he believed that my son and the rest of the boys were dealing (at least among each other). He has come up with a genius idea of having restraining orders issued against my son and the other boys he knows that run in that little group. I honestly don't mind because I agree that together these boys make very bad decisions and nothing good will come of their continued association. I would do the same if I could. He went on and on about surveillance techniques available with cell phone technology. Again, something I would be interested in if I had the means. (and when Jr. buys his iPhone in April I will look into the GPS tracking app)

While I may be at the end of my rope with my son, while I'm forced to stand by as he races full speed off a cliff, at least when I'm awake at night it's with thoughts of where I went wrong or how I can possibly get through to him and not because I'm wondering if my kid will try and kill me in my sleep.

It's all perspective. My kid is an asshole because he won't stop smoking weed and he keeps screwing up his education. I don't like it, but I've seen how much worse it could be and I'm a tiny bit relieved. Like a minuscule amount.

S.S.D.D. (same shit; different day)

Call from school AGAIN. My son had decided that instead of skipping he just won't go. His excuse this time is that his girlfriend is home sick so he's at her house. Is it any wonder I'm breaking out all over with "stress induced eczema".

I really don't think he's going to make it. There is no way he can graduate if he doesn't go. And given his current attitude and the several talks we've had about what he needs to do and what consequences there will be (short and long term) he doesn't seem inclined to change his attitude or behavior.

I want to give up, but according to the law he can do what ever he pleases until he's 18. Evidently 17 is a magical place where parental options are limited when it comes to unruly children.

There is little consolation in knowing that I will survive this because I know that regardless of my survival the end result for him will be considerably less than what any parent would want for their child's future.

If I had the money I could send him to a 5 month youth boot camp. He has friends that went through it and are still into drugs and some have still been in trouble with the law. So the only upside is I wouldn't have to worry about him for 5 months (unless he runs away from the camp).

I could take his car. But without transportation he could lose his job (which is the only good thing he's got going for him right now).

I hate him so much lately. It's that special kind of hate that you can really only feel for someone you love with all your heart.

I give up. I'm done.
(one of these days I may actually mean that)

Trudging Along

To quote one of my favorite actors (Paul Bettany), from one of my favorite movies (A Knight's Tale)...

To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man (or woman) who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on. 

Blindsided

So things had been going relatively well. Jr.'s car was up and running. He isn't around much, but he hasn't been causing any major problems. Comes home smelling of weed every now and then, but there's not much we can do about that. He finally found a job and it's a good one. Great local fast food place that has an awesome reputation for treating its young staff well and keeping them happy. I've always said he had the right personality to work there and I'm hoping he does well.
We even decided to get another dog. Didn't really want to, but Braddock has been super mopey and clingy and so happy when Jr's girlfriend brings her lab over to visit. We found a pitbull rescue and we are really hoping it'll make him happier. She's super sweet and when they met she seemed to already recognize him as the alpha dog. I have to admit that part of me went along with it because of the idea of having something new to love that doesn't make me feel like crap. (not the right reason to get a dog, but it was the "pro" that tipped the scales)
Flash forward to today, to this morning, to about 20 mins ago. I get a call from Jr.'s school. They already said that if he gets caught skipping class again they will expel him. He would have to finish out the year at an alternative school in order to return next year to graduate. Well he's not skipping class; he's just decided not to go at all. He hasn't been there since last Thursday. He gets up every morning. He puts on his uniform. He leaves the house. I had no reason to suspect anything. I finally get him on the phone and find out that he's been chilling at a friend's house playing x-box and sleeping (probably more than a little weed smoking thrown in because this particular friend is notorious in that department).
I don't know what else to do. My husband insists that he graduates because he might wind up deciding to go in the military once he realizes how hard it is to get a job without a secondary degree. I want him to get his GED and move out like he's threatened to do so many times. I don't want to screw up his opportunity at this new job by taking away his car. I can ground him, but with his own transportation I can't make sure he comes home straight from school or work. It's like he knows he's got us over a barrel.
You know what it is, it's like when you know you are going to suck at something and you just want to do it and get it over with. Because you know how awful you are going to feel when you are in the process of sucking and you will feel compelled to try things to reduce the amount of suckage, but to no avail.  You just want to get to the other side where you can reflect on how bad you sucked. That's me right now. I just want him gone so I can reflect on my failures as a mother instead of flailing around and trying desperately to salvage some decent parenting. It's a lost cause.
You can point at my daughter and say I'm not a complete failure, but I'd have to remind you that both of my parents sucked and I managed to make a decent human being out of myself. So I don't know how much of her I can take responsibility for.

Doing Time

My son has been suspended for skipping class for the 4th time this school year. He could technically be recommended for expulsion and sent to an alternative school for the rest of the school year, but for some reason the Dean of Students has decided to give him one more chance.

We've tried grounding him before, but it's usually more of a headache. In the past when he was grounded we've had to allow his girlfriend to come over order to keep him from running off and just not coming home at all . This time I decided enough was enough. I grounded him for the duration of his suspension and told him his girlfriend was NOT allowed over (with the exception of her coming along on the family trip to visit our daughter in Lafayette).

When he is not grounded he comes and goes as he pleases. He is mostly uncommunicative, but when he does talk to us he is disrespectful and argumentative, and generally not pleasant to be around. But something strange has happened this time. He spent most of Friday and all day yesterday working on his car, which has been out of commission for over a month. He will stop in the living room and talk to us about being asked to be a guest player for a friend's soccer team, possible job opportunities he's been looking into and he even had me help him pick out his girlfriend's birthday presents. He has been more like the charming, funny and helpful kid I miss.

Tuesday he goes back to school and we will release him from his restrictions, other than his usual weeknight curfew. I want to have a talk with him this evening and ask him if he has noticed a difference in our behavior the last few days. We haven't had to yell at him, and we've been in better moods as well. My hope is that we can continue this peaceful atmosphere once he is again let loose on society.

A girl can dream can't she?

In Memoriam

It all started Thursday evening. I had just returned from picking up my daughter from Lafayette so she could spend the weekend at home before classes start next week. After a quick stop by the house she left to run some errands. She returned to find our dog, Braddock, bouncing around in the driveway meaning Layla, our other dog, was still on the loose. They had gotten out of an open window in my son's room. He had forgotten it was open and it's covered by curtains and partially obscured by some furniture.

We drove around for 2 hours Thursday night calling for her. Friday I called the pound and my daughter and her boyfriend papered the neighborhood with fliers. Saturday morning someone called me to tell me her friend had seen a boxer get hit by a car on the highway a couple blocks from our house. She said there was another boxer with her that ran off. The coincidences were too close to leave even a sliver of hope that it wasn't our girl. In tears I called my husband and asked him to go look while he was out running errands. It was her.

Braddock is our "main" dog. It's not the right way to put it, but we got him as a puppy and he is the best dog I've ever had. Layla showed up on our doorstep about 5 years ago. According to the vet she was about a year and half old. She had been kept tied up in someone's yard judging by the makeshift slip lead she had on which was attached to rubber tubing attached to a hook. Because of this I'll admit we didn't try really hard to find her owner. My son took to her immediately. She became his dog. Braddock even seemed smitten with her even though he was fixed. She was a great watch dog, very friendly and very energetic and desperate for attention. She was also a runner. We had one memorable run-in with Animal Control that cost us a good bit, and my husband was always getting calls from our neighbors when she managed to scale a fence or find an open window or door. She even managed to get out of a window that was missing one of the small panes of glass even though I never would have thought she could squeeze through an opening so small.

All day Saturday we cried. I cried more for the heartbreak I saw on my children's faces. My son was inconsolable and his grief was matched with anger. My daughter did not stop crying for the rest of her visit. Everywhere were reminders of Layla that triggered a new set of tears. Half the time I didn't know if I was crying for the loss of Layla or because of the heartbreak I had to watch my kids suffer through.

My husband, who claims not to be sentimental (and who also claimed to not like Layla) chose a spot under my sweet olive tree as her final resting place. The big softie is even talking about engraving a stone paver as her headstone.

My eulogy to her is this: She wasn't a bad dog. She wasn't a great dog. She was a silly dog. She was a loyal dog. She was our dog.

Rest in peace Layla. I will always remember you as my son's first true love.

TGIF my ass.

Isn't this a lovely way to start my weekend. Nice visit with my daughter before she starts school again and she gets to spend it looking for our dog that ran away when my pothead son left his bedroom window open. And what's this? I get to meet with the Dean of Students at my son's high school on Monday because he has been caught skipping school AGAIN. What have I done to deserve such a bounty of blessings?

I swear I'm a good person. Anything I've ever done wrong was as a result of wrongs done to me. Somebody has been talking shit to Karma about me behind my back. I'd love to have a sit down with her and find out just what it is she thinks I've done to deserve all of this.

I don't know what to do anymore. I'm losing my mind. I can't take much more of this. Of course every time I say that I break my own personal record for being able to take the shit life throws at me. I just wish I wasn't such an overachiever.

I wish I could just give myself permission to have a nervous breakdown. Some sort of self-preservation instinct keeps me holding on. Make no mistake, I'm white-knuckling it at times and then the feeling subsides to a calm terror just under the surface.

Things had been going well for a few weeks. I had managed to adopt an out of sight out of mind mentality when it comes to my son. Instead of anxiously waiting to hear from him about where he was or when he was coming home I figured that if something went really wrong I'd hear from the police. My husband and I were getting along surprisingly well and managed to keep each other entertained and distracted with other topics of conversation.

Yesterday was a red letter day. My son was sick so I was home with him all day. We talked on the way to the doctor, while waiting in the exam room, at breakfast afterwards and even a little in the afternoon. We talked about his long term goals. We had an open discussion about his relationship with his girlfriend. He admitted that he's even thought it was strange for him to be so certain at his age that this is THE one. It was awesome.

It was a lie.

He's not the sweet little boy he used to be. He claims to have these goals and to have his future figured out. He fooled me into thinking he was going to be OK, but then I catch him with weed and a pipe last night. As I'm standing in his doorway, tears streaming down my face asking him what makes him think it's OK to continue to do stuff that he knows we so strongly disapprove of and to do them right under our noses. He tells me that I'm the one that chooses to get upset over something that, in his words, is "not a big deal". I'm emotionally gutted over that fact that his continued fascination with this lifestyle will ruin his chances to graduate (since he's on the verge of failing already), will cause him to get arrested again or will destroy his chances of ever getting a decent job (since he's pretty much screwed himself out of ever going to college). I am terrified for my child's future and he could care less.

Maybe it is my fault. I had a suspicion that he was up to something last night so I decided to pop in and check on him. His door was locked so I was pretty sure he was hiding something, but a quick check around his room turned up nothing. I went back to bed and tried desperately to let it go, to be one of those parents that turns a blind eye to stuff like this. I couldn't do it. I used the old butter knife trick (assuming he would have locked his door again) and caught him with the contraband. Of course I was overreacting  He wasn't smoking anything; he was just cleaning residue from his pipe.

I want to believe that in a few years I will be remembering this as just the typical difficulties of raising a teenager. I want more than anything for him to be right. I want everything to turn out OK. I want him out of my house just as much as I want him there so I know he's safe. I want a break from my own brain and heart and life. I want a nervous breakdown. I want the men in the white coats to take me away.