So he did better on Thursday. The cycle was starting again. We wrote up a contract with conditions about how he would keep the game and why he would give it back.
He had to give it back today. Well, we take it away at night, but he isn't able to get that privilege today. Or probably tomorrow either. Shoot, probably not all week.
It's so freaking predictable it's not even funny anymore.
Where he was quiet and followed all the rules on Thursday and even yesterday morning, today he came right down at 6 am, started poking Adam with a Wii remote, refused to take his medicine, made strange noises, ran up and down the stairs, threw things, smeared food all over the granite and floor, and turned the television up and laughed like a drowning hyena. My husband locked himself in (and me out) of the bedroom and then just left the house completely. "I am not putting up with this shit on my day off" and slammed the door.
Gee, I don't ever get a fucking day off. Ever. I deal with his morning tirades all through the school year. I go to work a stressed out mess every single day. I clean the messes that he makes before he gets home to see it, I calm the others so they don't lay their grievances at his feet when he returns home. I drive him to every therapist, psychiatrist, outpatient crazy care while dragging two others with me. I deal with the teachers, I throw his medicine down his throat. What does HE do? Complain about it and then find something fun for himself to do because, hell, he deserves it.
I have a mandatory preschool conference next week. My mother is extremely ill and cannot come watch them like we had planned on. My husband just CANNOT take any time off to help me with this. I can hire a teenage babysitter, but I am not really comfortable with that. We are forty plus year old adults and this is very hard. I am just so afraid of what will happen if I go that route. If I do not go to the conference, I cannot work at preschool next year.
I will probably get fired.
I really LOVED that job. I mean, without that, I don't really have a happy place anymore. God knows, here isn't it.
Five more years.
In five more years he'll be 18. At that time, he is out of our home. I know that is harsh and I hate even thinking it, but he'll be 18. I'll teach him everything he'll accept until then, but if he refuses to take it, then so be it, but he isn't staying here. I don't owe him anything after that. I remember my tiny baby and try to go back and think of him like that, but it's hard. All I see is this rude, nasty creature and I just want to be free of him. I had a boyfriend who cussed me out once and then burned me with a cigarette. I promptly broke up with him and then got a restraining order against him the minute he came around trying to suck up. I wasn't going to put up with that shit, but man, I put up with it now. Society really frowns on dumping your own kid. No one cares how the other children are doing. We will talk to him and then send him back home with you. You gave birth to it, you are dealing with it. Period.
Only five more years.
Nope. I'm Not Done with the Wonder Woman Dress Yet.
14 hours ago