Picture whiskey here.
I’m leaving it blank since there is no whiskey here. None. Nada.
Let me explain.
I think I’ve told you all about Not My Kid (NMK) and his mother and the step-father a little bit. Right before Thanksgiving, they fell on hard times and struggled through the holidays. Finally, they came to stay with us. Now, lest you think I’m a ministering angel, don’t. I’m sure as Hell not gracious about it. I’ve been in a permanent state of “bitch” since the move in. I’ve hid it fairly well.
But I’ve got to list the little bitchy things or I’ll explode!
Let me just say that addiction sucks. Step Dad isn’t ready to let go of alcohol. NMK’s Mom isn’t ready to let go of Step Dad. They fight. ALL. THE. TIME.
She eats Tricks. The cereal.
She sleeps all day.
He goes in and out the door. Have I mentioned my psycho dog that barks at EVERYONE whenever they come in and out of the door? Yeah. A bit disruptive.
One morning, she actually complained that I was on the computer too much.
I’m on the computer too much promoting my books, filling out contracts and writing books that I receive royalty checks for.
I’m a horrible person.
Let’s just say that there’s a bit too much togetherness for my taste. Poor Demolition Boy. He’s struggling. As his teacher says, “Before the meds he was frustrated with the academic part of school. Now he’s frustrated with people.” It’s a bit difficult to tell if it’s the meds or if the added stress of adding an entire family to ours has stressed him out.
Also, the difference in parenting has been interesting.
But then, I’ve never been in the same situation and never want to be. I’m well aware that I’ve made a choice and these are the consequences. I’m not saying I wish I’d never done this. On the contrary, I’ve learned some very valuable lessons.
Helping the kid means helping the adults in the kid’s life. All of them. Including the worried Great Grandma and the odd teacher or two.
Helping the adults in the kid’s life means dealing with ALL of their baggage. It’s not intentional. It just is.
Helping the adults doesn’t mean they’ll get it. It means they’ll have a warm place to fall. That’s it.
Plan for time to bitch AWAY from the house. There won’t be any privacy at home. Walls are thin.
Follow the Cub Scouts steps to Courage.
I’ve kept the whiskey out of the house because I don’t want to provide any alcohol for anyone including me.
Wish me luck.
Picture whiskey here.