day 410

..."wait 'til your father gets home..."

ok, First Bank of Dad, been there.

"Wait 'til your father gets home," done that last night.

With Stoney gettin' burned on the pot, It passed the parental buck. Remember, It was told to devise a punishment/consequence. Its way of dealing with that was to tell him the urine test on the kitchen counter was for him. That's it, translation: "wait 'til your father gets home." It was out all day, came home last night. Fucking pitiful. Not a fucking iota of parenting.

The good news: he and I had a very good talk. Bonded.

But now, imagine, what would'a happened if I listened to others. If I wasn't there, what would'a happened? He would'a carried on, until god knows what. At LEAST if he becomes an addict, I'll know I did what needed to be done. The rest is in his lap.

You MUST love the irony though. It saves the world, a friend has a problem, It rushes to them. Meanwhile, you ignore your son and rage at your husband. Amazing.

Funny, It always has a bottle of Snapple in hand yet has nothing to feed Its son.

St.Francis this am. Crisp am, sweatshirt for the first mile. Took it off after that, too warm, but felt REALLY good.

Stoney? After 2 days of school, 2 days off, Jewish holidays. Helluva life.

...and THAT'S why I feel better today. Came home yesterday, he's on the slaptop AND X Box (multitasking bastard). I give him lunch money, he asks "what's this for?" I didn't know he had no school. Now...think...rather than keep the money for some act of substance abuse related malfeasance, he returned it. (this am, found a note requesting $$$ to get snacks after handball, lol. Should'a just kept the lunch money.) Point being, he is trustworthy. Thank god.

What kills me though, am I the only motherfucker with a dollar? THIS is the dysfunction in which I exist. Coffee is hidden, because I have the balls to use it, found a bottle of olive oil in the dishwasher this am (bastard that I am, use THAT too, can you IMAGINE???).