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5/8/12

So, how have you been?

Once again I've gone missing in action, folks.  I wish I had some fantastic excuse like, I've been really busy having sexy time with a new beau, or that I've received a fantastically appropriate settlement from Big Daddy and have been preoccupied with botox appointments and long weekends at the shore. 

But no, if you know me, you know the drill. I've just been busy with life.

As I sit here typing this, I am beginning to feel my insides uncurl from the agonizingly tight knot they've been wrapped in for the past 45 minutes or so.  Yes, I'm having trouble with Charlie.  Will this ever, ever end?  We are now on our 7th hellish morning in a row.  Every effing morning I go down to get him up, and for the past seven days nothing has worked.  He's screamed at me, I've screamed at him.  He's cried, I've cried.  And like the enabling enabler that I am, I let him do this.  I drive him to school, sometimes he's remorseful on the way there, sometimes angry and brutal, other times I feel like I'm transporting a mute and brainless scarecrow.

Seven years.  That's how long this nightmarish morning routine has dragged on.  With exceptions on the weekends, vacation time and summer break, every single morning I wake up and have to brace myself for the fight ahead.  My other kids, all three of them, get up and get ready and go to school like they're supposed to. They do their homework, they get good grades, they follow the rules and do what they're told.  But Charlie, he doesn't do what he's supposed to.  I can't remember the last time we had a good conference, a good report card, a stretch of good mornings that lasted more than a week or so.

He's supposed to be graduating in less than a month.  He has used up all of his "Get out of jail free" cards with that school...cashed in every favor and then some.  As of last week, he was to miss not a single day of school...if that happened, they wouldn't allow him to graduate.  I've been the weepy mom on the phone to counselors and principals, been the angry Mama Bear fighting for my poor sad kid.  I've called the local agency that is supposed to be an advocate for kids who are outside the circle of "average" and "normal" (they didn't ever get back to me).  And today I'm feeling like there is no more I can do.

For a couple of weeks I kept my head firmly wedged in that big pile of sand I keep handy for such occasions.  I started planning a graduation party for him, made arrangements to get some pictures taken for his graduation announcements. 

But right now?  At this very moment?  I am spent. My stomach hurts, my pulse is still racing.  I can hear him clattering around downstairs, don't know if he's getting ready for his ride to school or if he's trashing the laundry room or if he's down there crying.  My thoughts turn to his father, and the rage starts to creep in.  How would it be different, I think to myself, if there was another person here helping me raise this broken child?  What if he had a strong set of shoulders to lean on, hell...what if I did?  What if there had been two parents giving a shit about this kid from the get go, rather than one slinking away with his tail between his legs and the leftover parent stretched as thin as saran wrap?

Big Daddy brought Spawn to one of William's baseball games last week.  I looked at him, for just moment, and watched the man I used to be married to lovingly hold his progeny and talk softly, sweetly to him.  I saw him pointing out the action on the field to that little product of his and Secretary's ill-begotten romance, that human being born out of a dirty cluster of lies and deceit and cruelty.  I wanted to approach him and ask him, "How long until you run away from this one?  How long before you decide he's too much work?  How can you sit here and act like you're a man, a father, in front of the children you abandoned?". He stayed for a little bit, and then left.  Left for his new life with his perfect wife and their perfect child.  Henry was at the game with me, and as we were packing up to go home I asked him, "Did you talk to your dad?".  Henry shrugged, and said, "Well, I was walking over there to say hi and he turned around and left." 

He turned around, and he left.  Sounds like the title of a Shirelles song, or maybe one by Alanis Morisette, doesn't it?  Pretty much sums things up. 

I am sitting here, taking swigs of lukewarm coffee and answering math questions with the eleven year old, while my tortured and fractured manchild lays downstairs swaddled in blankets, a pillow over his head.  In a little while I will go out into the world, my "everything is just AWESOME" face plastered over the one that has creases worn deep by worry.  I continue to volunteer for things, show up for things and try with all my might to keep life normal for the other kids while trying with every fiber in my being to hang on to the one kid who keeps drifting away with the tides. 

I know that we can get through this, he and I.  I envision a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, years away from now, where Charlie and I and his wife or girlfriend sit and talk about these days and how hard it was and how hard we fought to get through them.  In this vision Charlie is a man, a man who has tackled his issues like a linebacker and come out on the other side, victorious.  He has figured out how to quell the waves of grief that had once threatened to take him down.

But for now, in this shaky and volatile present, all I can do is wait. Wait and watch and worry. 

Sorry for the downer post, people.  I will hopefully be back later with a Ten on Tuesday.  Despite the fact that I have been dealing with this real life version of The Bell Jar, there have been some spectacularly normal and funny goings on around here. 

Life goes on.  I'm still learning that.  I just wish it wasn't such a freaking hard lesson.

12 comments:

  1. ((Hugs)) I was just thinking of you yesterday and was going to post to see how you were. All I can really say is hang in there. Praying for you and Charlie...

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    1. Oh thank you Mommyof1! I'm hanging in there, dear. It's all we can do!

      Thank you so much for reading, and for the prayers!

      Jenny

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  2. Stay strong, Jenny.

    If there's anything I can do, like mentor, let me know. I have to follow up with a request to tutor and mentor but that offer is always open for you and your minions!

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    1. Thanks, Tang. That's actually a very cool offer and one I may take you up on. (that sentence doesn't sound grammatically correct). You're a good kid, I think if Charlie were to hang out with you and see what "good kids" do that would be awesome.

      Thanks Alex. Love ya!

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  3. Glad you haven't decided to abandon us, you really are missed. Life can get pretty damn difficult but like my mom says, we're never given anything we can't handle :)

    You will get through this & so will Charlie. Your ex however, I'm not so sure that man will ever become a better man or father to your kids...such a shame. Can't wait to read your next post :)

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    1. Thanks Lin...that's one thing I am learning as I go through this insane parenting journey- there is little that is "unhandle-able". We just trudge through it.

      Thank you for reading!

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  4. Do you think a home school program might work for Charlie? Maybe he's reluctant to go to school because he feels isolated from his peers. With home school, he could finish credits at his own pace, without having to stick to a set schedule. This is how I finished high school and it requires a lot of discipline, but it's doable and it was a good alternative for me.

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    1. Nikki at this point I think his only option will be summer school, and if that doesn't get him up to the required amount of credits, online will be the answer. My heart breaks for the loss of that dream for a "normal" high school career for him, but in the end I know this will be a tiny blip on the radar. Just hard to watch kids struggle.

      Thanks so much for reading, and for sharing your story!! It's nice to hear from someone who did it differently.

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  5. Step child is doing the online school thing, has been since Feb or March. We don't know how they handle making up the time when he was in 'limbo' (October until he enrolled in this). Won't graduate in June or maybe even 2012. It's a mystery to us how/what he's doing, and he's an adult so what can we do?

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    1. Gail, it sure has changed since mine turned 18. It's like a little bit of the guilt has lifted. It's still frustrating as hell.

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  6. My heart breaks for you and your children. I don't understand a man who can abandon a family, then become devoted to a new one. My father-in-law did the same thing and even told his grown daughter that his new twins would "finally give me the family I always wanted". I can only imagine how much harder it must be for younger kids. Hang in there with Charlie. If it's any consolation my darling daughter will be 20 in September and will still need two credits to graduate. She's had a tough go for other reasons but my hubby and I keep telling ourselves that at least she hasn't given up entirely and quit. All the best and you and your children are in my thoughts

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    1. J- Thank you so much. They don't talk much about it, but what they do say is pretty sad. But, they'll get over it, I hope. It's funny because Big Daddy was kind of "upstaged" by his dad's kids from marriage number two, and I remember him talking about how frustrating it was for him. Guess he doesn't remember that!

      Thanks for sharing about your girl. It really does help me feel less outcast-y when people tell me my kid isn't the only one! I hope she's doing ok.

      Thanks so much for reading!

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