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