Father's day and the husband's birthday came all at once this year. For all he does he only got one day this year to celebrate, and little choice on how to spend it. My sister has given us family dinners for the last 2 Christmases as her gift. We call get a calendar with pre-set dates and we meet at her house once a month for dinner. Corona, of course, has side tracked that since March, but yesterday we assembled at her house for a cookout and much needed get together.
It was great, aside from the diverticulosis flare that started in the morning leaving me unable to eat anything. The dog didn't come either, as she had been off lately, having little interest in bacon or cheese treats and whimpering occasionally when she puts her weight on her front foot. It was nice to see everyone, despite my discomfort, and even nicer to see Youngest sober for the entire day. I have been seeing tiny steps in a positive direction, nothing I can get my hopes up for, but still positive steps none the less.
I spent last night on the couch, wrapped in my weighted blanket and heating pad to alleviate the pain in my guts. In and out of sleep, I have vague memory of the goings on in the house. At one point Oldest came in to check on me, asking me questions of Corona. It seems he's concerned that his recent exploits on the beach have brought home COVID. I assured him he did not. Youngest was home an hour and a half early and apparently tucked me in, shut off the TV and the lights. I woke up about a half hour later noticing his shoes were here, so I locked up and shut the outside lights off.
This morning has found me virtually fever free which should mean I caught things in time to prevent an infection. The dog's leg seems to be better, as she's chasing her ball around the house like a maniac and begging for cheese once again. Youngest came upstairs sporting an ace bandage on his wrist and several bruises. Apparently there was an incident while he was out on a walk last night, over something he didn't remember, and he's starting to see what we've all been saying. He says he doesn't want to drink anymore. That that's not the life he wants to have. He also declared he's going to figure out what he can do that doesn't involve getting high for fun. He's made plans with some old friends for Thursday. All of which are positive things that I pray he sticks to. Oldest has decided to take a break from drinking on the beach, which is also good. He's also decided to spend more time on himself, eating better, and not looking for a spring fling. While I know he has no major issues with any of this, this summer could easily become a mess of chaos if it's not kept in check.
Plans are being made for the fourth of July. Housing deposits for college have been paid. Youngest is checking in on his virtual orientations, and Oldest is connecting with college friends and speculating how the new hybrid learning will go. Bonus son is working like crazy, banking the overtime. The husband is on vacation week after next with will do wonders for his mental state.
And, I am getting some much needed down time, even if it's currently under a blanket with a heating pad on my guts.
Monday, June 22, 2020
Friday, June 12, 2020
The Terrible, Very Bad, No Good day...
I rolled out of bed with just enough time to get myself to work this morning. Upon my exiting the shower, the husband reports that the boy left the window down in the car again. How one does that, when they are using the wipers because it's raining, I will never know. He also reports there is glass in the backseat.
So somewhere between throwing in the laundry and throwing my hair in a sloppy ponytail, I present myself in Youngest's room. He's awake, and comes upstairs shortly thereafter to move the car, because I'm not getting my butt wet before work, and clean the glass up. He puts on his clothes, his shoes. Something smears under his foot on the dog's eating rug and he looks down dismissively. Thinking it's a dog cookie she's saving for later, I grab the vacuum and suck it up as he goes outside, moves the car, and begins to get the shop vac out to clean. The cookies didn't clean up as well as it usually does, which I found odd, but had no time to investigate. I sat in the kitchen putting on my shoes when I see something else on the floor. I look outside. More stuff. In the driveway, more stuff.
Do you have dog crap on your shoe?
*looks at sneaker bottom* Yeah, I did. But not anymore...
No, no you don't because it's all over the house.
I grab the hose and spray the driveway and slate down. I clean the kitchen floor. I look at the dog, now sadly looking at me like, why is there random dog poop on my eating rug?, I apologize and figure I'll clean it up later.
I head to work for a horrendous day. It's hot and humid. I'm already done before the day even starts. My anxiety is so high I'm having chest pains. I should probably go home, but don't. Two hundred and 92 packages, my biggest day ever. I got stuck in two driveways, one of which 3 people had to push me out of. I got stuck behind the ice cream truck on a one way street and have no where to go while a line of kids slowly decide between rocket pops or SpongeBob with the bubblegum eyes. I miss a package and have to drive 10 miles back to get it delivered. I forget to turn my hazards on for the last part of the delivery because I had shut them off to deviate while delivering the package. When I get back into the office my boss asks me a vague did anything happen on the road today?
Um, yeah... the day sucked... where shall I start? I got stuck in two driveways.
Well, Apparently the guy at 73 said you took out his rock wall.
So I proceed to tell him the whole story. I got stuck in a situation I shouldn't have been in. There was a rock on the ground that I popped back into the wall, that the bumper *may* have knocked out (it's a loose stacked flat rock wall) I checked the back of the truck to make sure I had not run into their mulch or shrubs, and I left. Could have been me, could have been any one of the number of construction guys they have working on their garage. Honestly, I'm surprised they even called, they are usually very nice. Boss says "Okay, I'll see what I can smooth over."
I leave for the day and arrive with the dog at the door begging to go out. It suddenly occurs to me that no one walked her all day. No worries, I think, and we go for a quick walk. We get home and I prepare myself to scrub the dried poop from the carpet. Except it's not dry. It's a giant new mess of diarrhea and grossness. Poor girl, no wonder she made a beeline for the door when I got home. So I trash the rug and make a mental note to replace it this weekend.
Then the cleaning begins. Youngest was given a deadline, which was today, to get everything out of his room that shouldn't be there. He knew I'd be cleaning. It was disgusting. But I will say that he did, for the most part, everything he was supposed to, and I checked everywhere. I was respectful of his things, only throwing out the actual trash (boxes, candy wrappers, school work from his junior year of high school) I found a book that needs to go back to the school. I hung his wrestling awards. Made his bed. Washed his blankets. It looks like a room he should want yo be in, not the crack head semblance of what it was, and it smells clean for the first time in years.
The husband came home and tells me the other side to my work story. He works with the postmaster the latter half of the day and got wind of the wall story. Having no idea it was me, he got the run down, the postmaster says the video shows it was one rock, that was replaced, etc. No big deal. Except now the guy is refusing to talk to the postmaster, he's filing charges with the police.
Awesome.
Seventeen years with nothing on my record. Not too worry though, I'll never set foot on their property again. They can pick up everything at the post office from now on and I get to find out where that all goes tomorrow or Tuesday, we shall see. Pretty sure this guy's not getting a whole new wall out of the deal though, particularly if he's using the video as evidence. It was one rock. Nothing I can do about it now.
Then as I'm cooking dinner, rather reheating a bowl of soup because that's all I have in me to make, when the small, completely unbreakable, Correlle plate I use to cover it hits the floor and shatters, just as the phone rings.
It's the therapist calling me back.
Can't imagine why I'd need therapy, but I'm seeing her at 2 on Monday.
So somewhere between throwing in the laundry and throwing my hair in a sloppy ponytail, I present myself in Youngest's room. He's awake, and comes upstairs shortly thereafter to move the car, because I'm not getting my butt wet before work, and clean the glass up. He puts on his clothes, his shoes. Something smears under his foot on the dog's eating rug and he looks down dismissively. Thinking it's a dog cookie she's saving for later, I grab the vacuum and suck it up as he goes outside, moves the car, and begins to get the shop vac out to clean. The cookies didn't clean up as well as it usually does, which I found odd, but had no time to investigate. I sat in the kitchen putting on my shoes when I see something else on the floor. I look outside. More stuff. In the driveway, more stuff.
Do you have dog crap on your shoe?
*looks at sneaker bottom* Yeah, I did. But not anymore...
No, no you don't because it's all over the house.
I grab the hose and spray the driveway and slate down. I clean the kitchen floor. I look at the dog, now sadly looking at me like, why is there random dog poop on my eating rug?, I apologize and figure I'll clean it up later.
I head to work for a horrendous day. It's hot and humid. I'm already done before the day even starts. My anxiety is so high I'm having chest pains. I should probably go home, but don't. Two hundred and 92 packages, my biggest day ever. I got stuck in two driveways, one of which 3 people had to push me out of. I got stuck behind the ice cream truck on a one way street and have no where to go while a line of kids slowly decide between rocket pops or SpongeBob with the bubblegum eyes. I miss a package and have to drive 10 miles back to get it delivered. I forget to turn my hazards on for the last part of the delivery because I had shut them off to deviate while delivering the package. When I get back into the office my boss asks me a vague did anything happen on the road today?
Um, yeah... the day sucked... where shall I start? I got stuck in two driveways.
Well, Apparently the guy at 73 said you took out his rock wall.
So I proceed to tell him the whole story. I got stuck in a situation I shouldn't have been in. There was a rock on the ground that I popped back into the wall, that the bumper *may* have knocked out (it's a loose stacked flat rock wall) I checked the back of the truck to make sure I had not run into their mulch or shrubs, and I left. Could have been me, could have been any one of the number of construction guys they have working on their garage. Honestly, I'm surprised they even called, they are usually very nice. Boss says "Okay, I'll see what I can smooth over."
I leave for the day and arrive with the dog at the door begging to go out. It suddenly occurs to me that no one walked her all day. No worries, I think, and we go for a quick walk. We get home and I prepare myself to scrub the dried poop from the carpet. Except it's not dry. It's a giant new mess of diarrhea and grossness. Poor girl, no wonder she made a beeline for the door when I got home. So I trash the rug and make a mental note to replace it this weekend.
Then the cleaning begins. Youngest was given a deadline, which was today, to get everything out of his room that shouldn't be there. He knew I'd be cleaning. It was disgusting. But I will say that he did, for the most part, everything he was supposed to, and I checked everywhere. I was respectful of his things, only throwing out the actual trash (boxes, candy wrappers, school work from his junior year of high school) I found a book that needs to go back to the school. I hung his wrestling awards. Made his bed. Washed his blankets. It looks like a room he should want yo be in, not the crack head semblance of what it was, and it smells clean for the first time in years.
The husband came home and tells me the other side to my work story. He works with the postmaster the latter half of the day and got wind of the wall story. Having no idea it was me, he got the run down, the postmaster says the video shows it was one rock, that was replaced, etc. No big deal. Except now the guy is refusing to talk to the postmaster, he's filing charges with the police.
Awesome.
Seventeen years with nothing on my record. Not too worry though, I'll never set foot on their property again. They can pick up everything at the post office from now on and I get to find out where that all goes tomorrow or Tuesday, we shall see. Pretty sure this guy's not getting a whole new wall out of the deal though, particularly if he's using the video as evidence. It was one rock. Nothing I can do about it now.
Then as I'm cooking dinner, rather reheating a bowl of soup because that's all I have in me to make, when the small, completely unbreakable, Correlle plate I use to cover it hits the floor and shatters, just as the phone rings.
It's the therapist calling me back.
Can't imagine why I'd need therapy, but I'm seeing her at 2 on Monday.
Sunday, June 7, 2020
The End Of Chapter One...
It's over.
13 years of school, IEPs, wrestling, countless back and forth with teachers, administrators, etc.
It's over.
Graduation happened on Saturday, June 6th, at approximately 9:10 am. It was awesome. Students were put into four separate lots around downtown in their family car. They were allowed to get out, and while distancing was not strictly enforced, I saw little contact more than a few fist bumps. Truth be told, I suspect many of them had been seeing each other long before this anyway. I saw a classmate that no one thought would graduate, not even his parents, and it made me hopeful.
An announcement was made that after attaching final decorations that everyone needed to be in their cars, ready to move. In an organized fashion we traversed the street at 5mph down the waterfront to a huge stage where he'd receive his diploma. There were banners across the street, teachers and administration lining the road, clapping and cheering them by name. He exited the vehicle and waited on his socially distanced X on the sidewalk. His favorite teacher this year made him laugh before she announced his name. We drove up to the stage, I snapped pictures as it all happened, closer than I ever would have been able to be on the football field. Televised, my sister and my parents were able to watch from home. He hopped back in the car aside the dog, because when the whole family is allowed, the whole family comes. She did her fair share of stealing his show. Our town is very historical, this year happens to be a monumental year for it. In a way, it was fitting for the graduation to be in this location, and like nothing the town had ever seen.
On the exit street he jumped out to hug his 4&5th grade teacher. She came on her own to see this class, his class, graduate. It was special for sure. Then it was down to the school where a parent had made a giant wipe board *diploma* the kids could sign and take pictures in front of. His actual diploma, since there was no way to get the cars in perfect alphabetical order, were mailed out, and arrived on Saturday to complete his bifold.
We had a nice afternoon with my parents, sister and nieces and nephew. We ordered from Youngest's choice restaurant, which is of course, what he had always wanted. Just dinner out, no fancy party. He invited two friends, who stayed for a bit, played cornhole, and left. Later he went and met up with a friend, and with most after parties cancelled, he visited the new girl for a few hours. He was home an hour early. All and all it was a good day.
But still, I wish it had been different. I wish I had not seen what fell from his pocket at 830 am as he was about to cross the graduation stage. I wish I had not known why the two friends were at the house, or why he met the other friend later. And it saddens me to my core that all the after parties he was to attend, campfires with smores, fun around the fire pits, were not available for him because he has lost so many of his real friends throughout this whole process. His choices are costing him memories. He doesn't see it now, maybe someday he will. I wish he could have understood, and been okay with my husband's request to just give us two sober days with him. I wish I had not completely lost it 20 minutes before we were leaving, causing Oldest to not talk to me during the whole ceremony, or the husband and I dropping F-bombs in the kitchen as he walked away to finish getting ready. I wish a lot of things had been different, but that's not how it is now, or who he is.
But it was a good day none the less. I slept last night like I have not slept in months. I woke up energized and ready to take on the day. I cleaned like others cleaned during the first days of quarantine. My kitchen table is completely clear of everything. No masks, no sewing machine, no markers or poster board. All my projects are complete. I was able to bring in the plant I've nearly killed by putting it outside. My sheets are clean and the bed is made. Even under the bed is clean. I am ready to move forward.
There's finally a period at the end of the sentence.
He's finished the chapter.
And it's time for all of us to start Chapter two.
13 years of school, IEPs, wrestling, countless back and forth with teachers, administrators, etc.
It's over.
Graduation happened on Saturday, June 6th, at approximately 9:10 am. It was awesome. Students were put into four separate lots around downtown in their family car. They were allowed to get out, and while distancing was not strictly enforced, I saw little contact more than a few fist bumps. Truth be told, I suspect many of them had been seeing each other long before this anyway. I saw a classmate that no one thought would graduate, not even his parents, and it made me hopeful.
An announcement was made that after attaching final decorations that everyone needed to be in their cars, ready to move. In an organized fashion we traversed the street at 5mph down the waterfront to a huge stage where he'd receive his diploma. There were banners across the street, teachers and administration lining the road, clapping and cheering them by name. He exited the vehicle and waited on his socially distanced X on the sidewalk. His favorite teacher this year made him laugh before she announced his name. We drove up to the stage, I snapped pictures as it all happened, closer than I ever would have been able to be on the football field. Televised, my sister and my parents were able to watch from home. He hopped back in the car aside the dog, because when the whole family is allowed, the whole family comes. She did her fair share of stealing his show. Our town is very historical, this year happens to be a monumental year for it. In a way, it was fitting for the graduation to be in this location, and like nothing the town had ever seen.
On the exit street he jumped out to hug his 4&5th grade teacher. She came on her own to see this class, his class, graduate. It was special for sure. Then it was down to the school where a parent had made a giant wipe board *diploma* the kids could sign and take pictures in front of. His actual diploma, since there was no way to get the cars in perfect alphabetical order, were mailed out, and arrived on Saturday to complete his bifold.
We had a nice afternoon with my parents, sister and nieces and nephew. We ordered from Youngest's choice restaurant, which is of course, what he had always wanted. Just dinner out, no fancy party. He invited two friends, who stayed for a bit, played cornhole, and left. Later he went and met up with a friend, and with most after parties cancelled, he visited the new girl for a few hours. He was home an hour early. All and all it was a good day.
But still, I wish it had been different. I wish I had not seen what fell from his pocket at 830 am as he was about to cross the graduation stage. I wish I had not known why the two friends were at the house, or why he met the other friend later. And it saddens me to my core that all the after parties he was to attend, campfires with smores, fun around the fire pits, were not available for him because he has lost so many of his real friends throughout this whole process. His choices are costing him memories. He doesn't see it now, maybe someday he will. I wish he could have understood, and been okay with my husband's request to just give us two sober days with him. I wish I had not completely lost it 20 minutes before we were leaving, causing Oldest to not talk to me during the whole ceremony, or the husband and I dropping F-bombs in the kitchen as he walked away to finish getting ready. I wish a lot of things had been different, but that's not how it is now, or who he is.
But it was a good day none the less. I slept last night like I have not slept in months. I woke up energized and ready to take on the day. I cleaned like others cleaned during the first days of quarantine. My kitchen table is completely clear of everything. No masks, no sewing machine, no markers or poster board. All my projects are complete. I was able to bring in the plant I've nearly killed by putting it outside. My sheets are clean and the bed is made. Even under the bed is clean. I am ready to move forward.
There's finally a period at the end of the sentence.
He's finished the chapter.
And it's time for all of us to start Chapter two.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Two Days And Counting...
Two days before graduation, cap and gown pick up is today. I took the day off just in case a check had to be written, or some odd and end that needed to be taken care of.
His plan was to head to the school at 10am. This meant that my whole day would not be monopolized by last minute changes. I went to pick up a special treat for him from the Scout Troop, visited a bit, dropped another treat by a friend's house, chatted with his mother and was by noon. He was going to bring the other treat bag by his friend's house and maybe get some lunch. It was starting to look like a good day.
Until a friend called, and he decided to meet up, and he smoked himself into a comfortable coma, rendering himself unable to meet the other friend for lunch, pick up his accolades, or do much of anything, really. He fell asleep at one, and by two I will admit I was not nice when I woke him up. Had I not taken the day off and driven him down to the school, he'd have stoned his way right out of participating in graduation.
I have moved past being disappointed. He is the only one who can admit he has a problem, and he just doesn't see it. In a matter of months, between corona and the senior slide I have watched him become someone I just don't even know any more. And while some things have been better, it's like I don't know who he is anymore. He doesn't work out, and his nutritional health has taken a back seat. He doesn't see any of his core friends (at first because of covid, now just because) He doesn't hang around the house, watch TV, read, or care about anything other than going out for a good time. There's a new girl, she's 20ish, seems nice, but something's just not right about her or them. I've moved past disappointed into full on angry. Angry that he's making this choice, they he doesn't see what he's doing, and that there's nothing I can do about it. I pray (yup me, praying) that this is just a summer phase. That he'll get back on track in the next month or two.
And I'm scared. His whole life we have put him on a road, and as he got older he decided where that road would go. He'd have moments when he'd sit on the side of the road, wander off a path that loops back in, stop or run down it, but he'd always be going in the right direction. And now it seems he's off partying in the woods somewhere, and the fear is that in the ten weeks before he leaves for school he will not find the path through the forest that leads him back to the road in time.
I can accept that he purposely tanked his fourth quarter grades. I can accept that he wants to enjoy his last summer. I can accept that he's an adult and these choices are his own, as much as the consequences will be. But I can not accept that I can't find any semblance of the kid I raised in him anymore.
And as I sit here looking at his cap and gown, captain pin, Eagle cords and mask with the HS logo, I can feel angry, sad, disappointed, and lost. But I just can't seem to feel proud.
T-minus two days and counting.
His plan was to head to the school at 10am. This meant that my whole day would not be monopolized by last minute changes. I went to pick up a special treat for him from the Scout Troop, visited a bit, dropped another treat by a friend's house, chatted with his mother and was by noon. He was going to bring the other treat bag by his friend's house and maybe get some lunch. It was starting to look like a good day.
Until a friend called, and he decided to meet up, and he smoked himself into a comfortable coma, rendering himself unable to meet the other friend for lunch, pick up his accolades, or do much of anything, really. He fell asleep at one, and by two I will admit I was not nice when I woke him up. Had I not taken the day off and driven him down to the school, he'd have stoned his way right out of participating in graduation.
I have moved past being disappointed. He is the only one who can admit he has a problem, and he just doesn't see it. In a matter of months, between corona and the senior slide I have watched him become someone I just don't even know any more. And while some things have been better, it's like I don't know who he is anymore. He doesn't work out, and his nutritional health has taken a back seat. He doesn't see any of his core friends (at first because of covid, now just because) He doesn't hang around the house, watch TV, read, or care about anything other than going out for a good time. There's a new girl, she's 20ish, seems nice, but something's just not right about her or them. I've moved past disappointed into full on angry. Angry that he's making this choice, they he doesn't see what he's doing, and that there's nothing I can do about it. I pray (yup me, praying) that this is just a summer phase. That he'll get back on track in the next month or two.
And I'm scared. His whole life we have put him on a road, and as he got older he decided where that road would go. He'd have moments when he'd sit on the side of the road, wander off a path that loops back in, stop or run down it, but he'd always be going in the right direction. And now it seems he's off partying in the woods somewhere, and the fear is that in the ten weeks before he leaves for school he will not find the path through the forest that leads him back to the road in time.
I can accept that he purposely tanked his fourth quarter grades. I can accept that he wants to enjoy his last summer. I can accept that he's an adult and these choices are his own, as much as the consequences will be. But I can not accept that I can't find any semblance of the kid I raised in him anymore.
And as I sit here looking at his cap and gown, captain pin, Eagle cords and mask with the HS logo, I can feel angry, sad, disappointed, and lost. But I just can't seem to feel proud.
T-minus two days and counting.
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