My Apologies and Other Assorted Stuff....

OMG - I just checked and realized I have had my thousandth hit according to my blog counter. And to think I haven't even posted in what, 2, maybe 3 weeks????

Of course, those thousand hits are probably made by the same handful of very nice people who check in on me from time to time - and at least probably 800+ of those from Chuck - just to make me feel important!!!

I have started to post about a million times - no, really, a million - but somehow my distracted frame of mind has always taken hold and won out, and I've managed to just continue wandering aimlessly through cyber space - if not life in general.

Things here have been up and then down - and then up and WAY down again since the last time I was here.

It is the start of the holiday season for me - Thanksgiving is the day after tomorrow (probably will be tomorrow before I finish this post, even). I love the holidays. This year will be a tough one for me, though, as I have managed to alienate my son after the events which have transpired over the past 7 days, and as of right now I have no idea where he even is - and he wants it that way.

Tough love isn't called that because of how hard it is on the recipient - it's called that because it's really tough on the one having to dish it out. Al-anon members would call it refusing to enable the alcoholic/addict. I call it pure hell. And I'm only about 48 hours into it.

A friend's husband saw my son today - in a pawn shop. He was with 2 other boys, and my son was pawning "a few things from the back of his truck" as he told my friend. Funny thing is, I don't know where he got the items described to me - and I don't even have a complete inventory of what he DID pawn, because the friend didn't want to appear nosey. I can tell you that the two items that were reported didn't belong to my son - at least as far as I know - or as far as his father will admit to me. We (both families) both have Nintendo 64 game systems - but they are both still in our possession, and the other item was a guitar amplifier - but my son never had one of those while he lived with me, nor does his father recall him having one - so....???

Of course, it IS possible that these items belonged to either of the other two boys with my son - and it is also possible that neither of these boys were of the age of majority, so my son pawned the items for them. Who knows? Given the fact that he used my debit card to take $20 out of my checking acct (use of the debit card was permitted - but not for the cash - he was to get gas only) - followed by a good 30 minutes of "not remembering" said transaction and/or denying it. I finally got an "Oh yeah, NOW I remember - I DID get money out of your acct at a pulse machine because I was hungry" but only AFTER I said I would just call and have the bank pull the security tapes of the transaction in order to identify the responsible party. Of course, he takes offense at the use of the word "thief" in conjunction with such actions - I told him if he could think of another word that means the same thing, I'd like to know - and would be happy to use it. And of course, my use of the word "thief" - along with "liar" and "loser" are now the basis for our "going our separate ways" - because he cannot continue to feel welcome in a house where he is not trusted. (Just so you know, those words were not the only ones used - but the ones he's chosen to focus on/take out of context and turn back on me - it doesn't matter that I said how much I love him and how much it kills me to think that he might be a liar/thief/loser, etc....)

Did I mention that I also asked to have my house key back?

Let me just say that I AM thankful for a lot of things this year. And I guess the top of my list is that I had the privilege of fighting with my son two days ago - at least I got to hear his voice, and at least I know for now he's alive because someone saw him today. I don't know how far this will go - or for how much longer it will continue. I pray that it has a positive resolution - with no loss of life or liberty - and I want my son to know that I miss him and love him very much. More than he can even comprehend.

I stand by the words I've spoken - harsh as they may be. I hope that maybe I can help him hit bottom (or the point at which he decides to return) sooner and with less suffering on his part or anyone else's, and that maybe he won't feel he's painted himself so far into a corner that he cannot get out - or ask for help getting out. I pray that God will heal my heart and my son's and that somehow, some day we can love (maybe I should say "like" here instead of "love" - I will always love him) and trust one another again. I pray that the phone has no need to ring in the middle of the night - or at any other time of day - with the message that he is injured or in jail.

I really pray that everyone who knows me and who knows what I'm going through can just not look at me with that hurt in their eyes anymore. I don't want to talk about it - I don't want to think about it - I don't want to deal with it anymore. I'm done. I just want my life back - and I don't want to be in charge anymore either. I don't want to yell or cry anymore. I'm tired. I want to rest and be restored. I want some idea of what next step to take. I want to be heard. I want to be trusted. I want to be loved. I need some relief. some help. some hope.

And then the sun comes up, and I hear "Mama? Where are yooooou?" and I know I have to go on - I have to be in charge - I cannot rest or yell or cry or even care if I'm heard or trusted or loved. There is no relief - and yet there is. I am a MOM - this IS my life. I AM HER HOPE. And I am thankful, still. ...osm

Riding in Cars with Toddlers

What you could have actually heard this past Thursday night in my car:

[driving down a busy city street - 3 lanes in either direction and it's dark outside and there are stoplights about every block - we pull up to an intersection and stop]

From the backseat: "Go, mama, go!!"

I say: "Pumpkin, do you see that light up there? What color is it?"

She says: "Umm................Bwown!" [at which point the light immediately turns green] "Umm...Gween!"

I say: "That's right!! It just turned green - and that means we can GO! Before, it was RED, not brown - and red means we have to stop and wait for it to turn GREEN before we can go again."

[next intersection - stopped]

She says: "GO! Mommy, GO!!"

I say: "What color is the light this time?"

She says: "Umm....... WED!!!"

I say: "YES, very good - and what does red mean?"

She says: "Ummmm.......................... Sanna Kwaus!!!!!"

[i laughed all the rest of the way down the street - we hit ALL the green lights after that!!! (thanks, Santa!!)] ...osm

Dropping the Ball...

Seems to be a recurring theme for me these days.

I can't stay long this morning - I have to get the little one dressed and ready to go to "play school" and stop to get her stuff for lunch before we get there since I forgot what day it was yesterday.

I'm still here - feeling kind of overwhelmed and wondering why the hell I can't just let things be and why I have to keep on at my son (much like I did his father) until I nearly make him crazy.

Bottom line is, I let a little bit of information from my son's stepmother, coupled with the fact that I get NO information from my son himself or his father, drive me into a complete panic. I start making phone calls to his friends' parents, the police department/court house, anyone I can think of that I can get a number for, completely convinced that he must surely be totally under the influence of God-knows-what-all chemical substances and surely is drowning in a pit of chemical dependency and despair and the poor kid is merrily driving his way to meet me for what he thinks will be dinner with me and his sisters while he's in town visiting and instead he gets an ambush in a parking lot with an hysterical mother who wants to yank him up and take him to the nearest mental health facility and check him in to "dry out" and get some help.

Part of this fear comes from knowing that his father is an alcoholic and that alcoholism also runs on my side of the family and that his having Attention Deficit Disorder and having been on Ritalin makes him more susceptible to chemical dependency issues.

I think the plain truth is, he is a kid who probably accepts a joint when it's passed to him at a party and does likewise with beer or other alcohol. And maybe he IS or WILL BE chemically dependent, but after seeing him last night, I don't believe he was under the influence of anything then. I think he's pretty much a normal teenager, and the bad thing for him is that his older sister was NOT a normal teenager because she's always been an exceptionally good kid - never challenged the rules much, never partied, always came home when she was supposed to, only once since she's turned 18 (she'll be 21 in January) has she tried to defy a direct order to "come home now". He on the other hand, challenges my authority at every turn - a lot like (and this is the part that scares the shit out of me) I did with my parents - except that I was much more subtle about it (I thought) and rarely did I do anything that I got caught at before I actually just told on myself. I tended to spill the beans about things I had done voluntarily - maybe not right away - sometimes months or even years after the fact - but I did finally confide in my mom, who I knew would always stand by me in the big pinches.

I know I posted before about a recent incident where my son sold some pills to his younger step brother and he in turn sold them to a kid at his school. So maybe this is another reason (and perhaps you agree with me) that I feel justified in thinking the absolute worst and acting on that assumption without waiting to weigh the evidence from ALL parties involved. I honestly don't know anymore. As it turns out, his version of the drug-dealing incident is vastly different from what his father told me - and I suspect the truth is somewhere in the middle - but I still jumped his ass about it first and asked questions later.

I have friends who have not had contact with their kids for over a YEAR because the kid got so involved in drugs and alcohol and totally refused any help - and was of an age of majority - that they finally said "if you want to live your life that way, that's your prerogative, but you can't do it here" and so the kid took off. Do I agree with their "tough love" approach - yeah, I do - but when I start to think about putting that principle into action with my own child - and the possibility that he might just say "screw you!" and go away - it scares the living daylights out of me.

The worst part is, when he starts spitting my words and actions back out at me - and describing to me what I have done, it really sounds like I am a nut case and that I'm the one who should be locked up to dry out - and I haven't had a drink in weeks (and I only have one or two at a time when I do drink), nor have I done any kind of drug stronger than marijuana in my entire life, and not but maybe twice as an adult. How does that happen? How do I lose control? How can I be SO sure one minute that he's a lying, conniving, chemically-dependent zombie who has no clue what he's doing to his life and then lay eyes on him, talk to him, watch him move and act and talk and suddenly wonder what the hell is wrong with me??

I'm sitting here typing all this out - and then it suddenly occurs to me to say "you were PLAYED" and I know that's what you must be thinking as you're reading it. But the truth is I'm not sure I was played - I know I wasn't completely wrong, but I wasn't completely right, either. Why does this have to be so hard??? Why can't I just take what I know about parenting, drug and/or alcohol addiction, co-dependency, and the wisdom of Dr. Phil and just put it into action?? I can sure as hell tell YOU how to do it if it's YOUR kid - but make it MY kid, and I lose all sense of direction. The world starts tumbling and turning until I feel like I'm under water and disoriented - not knowing if I'm swimming toward the surface or plunging deeper into the murky depths toward certain destruction.

All I know right now is - he just called and said "Mom, I'm just telling you I'm about to leave to head back down there" ("there" being near Forth Worth, TX where he's lived for the past year with his father until they just up and left a few weeks ago - you can read back a few posts to find out about that). He's decided to withdraw from school, go to the police dept/courthouse and try to make arrangements to take care of his outstanding tickets/warrants (which is what started all this mess this time around in the first place) and then come back HOME.

I'm not sure right now if he means he's coming to MY home or to stay with his dad about 60 miles from here - I pray he will come to me - where he's been his whole life except for this past year of hell - and maybe we can start to rebuild our relationship and he can get his world right. I don't know if mine will ever be right. I really need to figure out, though, because now I have another precious child to raise and I don't have the luxury of just sitting around wondering where I went wrong. I really need a hero. I'm tired - and I don't want to BE my own hero anymore (not that I have been up till now).

All I care about is that even if he's not at my house, he'll be where I can lay eyes on him at least weekly (daily would be better) - not to mention being able to put my arms around him and tell him I love him - and maybe even kick his ass if he needs it. ...osm