The continuing saga

My Braves haven't been playing so well recently. I had to turn the game off in the seventh inning last night because it got too pathetic. It's the top of the first inning and their opponents (Cincinnati Reds tonight) just scored two runs. I know my boys can do better than this. But enough about baseball.

I had some COFFEE this Afternoon!! With CAFFEINE! WEEEEEEEEE!!!

Twitch has been transferred to the store in Simpsonville (Arby's). It's an hour away. He has no car, no drivers license. He's got the learners permit, and has been driving Superman's truck with me in the shotgun position. I actually enjoy the drive, or have come to feel that way about it this week. I like it better when I drive. He's not too bad at driving, but he's new and nervous, and I like being behind the wheel when I'm in the car, you know? Today we took my truck, which is a piece of shit with a manual transmission which Twitch doesn't know how to drive. I like my truck better. The thing is, it takes an hour one way to get to Simpsonville and uses a bunch of gas. I drive back home, only to go back to get him six to eight hours later. That's a LOT of gas. Which costs a lot of money. He's helping with the expense, but not as much as all of it. I'm trying to get him to save so he can secure housing in that area. I've spent four hours on the road every day this week. I have mixed feelings about this.

The poor guy (Twitch) had to work ten hours today. I got there an hour before he got off, not realizing he would work that late. It all worked out well, though, because I'm easy that way. I needed some new shoes anyway and hadn't yet found a chance to shop. There's a shoe store half a mile up the road from Twitch's shop, so I wandered up there and had my favorite kind of shoe shopping experience. This is a representation of what I bought.

(One beer down) I asked the nice sales associate lady for those old fashion ugly Crocs. She said they only had that style in mens, which is fine by me. She showed me what they had, three different colors/styles. The camo print was an easy elimination. The other shoe was brown with a leather (or leather look) patch on the top of the upper. It was $15 more than the black ones. Though they had the brown in a size 7 (my size in mens shoes) and the smallest size black was an 8. I tried them both on, and went with the 8. Crocs are supposed to be kinda loose anyway, right? And it has that strap thing on the back that helps keep the shoe on. So it's all good. I told the friendly sales lady that ugly and old fashioned was kinda my style. You know, I'm so fashion backward. So I got a pair of shoes I like for less than $35 and took less than ten minutes to complete the entire shoe shopping experience. Yeah, that's how I like to shop. I feel good! (The caffeine and beer help. 'Bout to start on my second beer, so watch out!) 

After the wonderful shoe shopping experience I stopped by Starbucks. I don't think I've been inside a Starbucks in at least two years. I got myself a short "tall" black coffee, then went back to the Arby's where I bought the last chocolate turnover. Man, those Arby's folks have the best turnovers, and the chocolate is extraordinary. Been wanting one of those for a while now. 

Oh, and in other news, the weight loss thing isn't going so well. For example, there's an IHOP beside the Arby's. Twitch has had to be at work at 8:00 every morning this week, but Arby's isn't open for breakfast. Leaving home before 7:00 hasn't given me the opportunity to eat before leaving. So twice this week I had the Bananas Foster Brioche French Toast at IHOP. Oh boy.

I mean look at that. Who could resist? Who knew warm bananas could taste so good? 

I recommend them if you aren't trying to control your BMI. So good! I got myself a bowl of cereal before leaving this morning, so was able to forego the cost and calories of that particular temptation today. Then I had a chocolate turnover this afternoon. In my defense (which isn't a good defense, by the way) I had a V-8 for lunch. *sigh*

Half way through the second beer. Feelin' good! I haven't been drinking much recently, like less than a beer a day. Maybe two or three beers a week. So two beers has a bigger impact. Oh, further along on that beer than I thought: just finished it. Weeee! And now I don't even care that the Braves are playing like shit. My tongue is going numb. Nice buzz.

Superman is on his way home from work. Yes, it's 8:40 on a Friday night. He's been working a lot of long hours recently. The plant just had a power surge and he lost the PowerPoint he'd been working on for over an hour, so he's chucking the whole thing and coming home. I suspect he'll have to spend a couple (or more) hours at work tomorrow.

What else? I suppose I could update the Sproing drama. Yesterday was hell. Did I mention in my last post that he'd been before the judge on the ... wait a minute. Let me check the last post and see if you are up to date with his latest criminal activity. (insert Jeopardy "wait" music)  Nope. That last post was written before his latest criminal activity. Last weekend he stole Superman's debit card, took it to Wal-Mart and spent approximately $150. When this breach of trust was discovered, we called the police. Because DAMN! We live in the city, Wal-Mart is in the county outside city limits. So to make life more difficult (because damn) the offense has been divided between city police and county sheriff's departments. The theft of the card is a police matter, the use of it is sheriff's domain. He's had his arraignment with the city. We're waiting on the sheriff's warrant, when we'll have to see a different judge because fuck my life. The municipal judge considered putting Sproing in jail, but released him on a personal recognizance bond of $5000, with restrictions. The judge, bless his heart, wrote his direct phone number on our copy of the paperwork.  If the boy gives me any grief I can call the judge and he'll revoke Sproing's bond, sending him to jail until his June 5th court date.

Well, yesterday Sproing was being an ass, at which he has a special gift. I asked him to fold and put away the load of towels in the dryer. Oh. My. God. You'd have thought I asked him to donate a kidney. After the judge had a serious talk with him about doing the right thing and respecting his Mama. And it got worse from there. I finally told him that I was done, and would call the judge tomorrow. (Which was today, for the record) He kinda freaked. (What the fuck. What does he expect?) Then he (Sproing) asked to talk to the sheriff's detective who questioned him about the charge, a guy who used to be the resource officer at the high school. Evidently Sproing feels comfortable with the man. So I called the sheriff's department (at 9:00 in the evening) and asked for the detective to call me. Which he did. I'm impressed. He talked to Sproing, calmed him down. After the conversation Sproing was way more copacetic. He apologized and everything. So I had pity on him and didn't call the judge today. So far today he's been calm, but I've hardly interacted with him at all. He got home from school right before I left to pick up Twitch. When I got back I went to the beer and baseball, and Sproing is doing his thing away from my presence. So far so good. Tomorrow is Saturday and we'll probably have more opportunity to interact. Oh please oh please oh please let it be peaceful!

Sproing got the warrant from the city, which is what sent us to the municipal judge. He hasn't yet gotten the warrant from the county, though. Once he does, we'll have to go to another judge to repeat the process. I don't know how that'll work out.

Oh, and of course all this shit violates his probation with Juvenile Justice. I talked to his probation officer. She said she'd wait to see what the city and county do with him before taking any action. She thinks it'll work itself out without her having to interfere. You see, since he's 17 years old now, he's treated as an adult when he fucks up like this. DJJ is a secondary concern. Damn, I hate this. Sproing can be such a nifty guy. But he can also be a pain in the ass. As you have probably realized by now.

HA!! Braves won!! Finally. Maybe this portends good fortune for this weekend. In my life, not just for the Atlanta Braves. That'd be nice.

Today I've been in a good mood. Last night I felt like wringing Sproing's neck. Today I spent pretty much all day without Sproing, and got to drive my truck, which always makes me happy. I had a lovely almost three hour nap this morning when I got back from Simpsonville, finished my sappy gay romance novel, had a good shoe shopping experience, drank CAFFEINATED COFFee and ate chocolate yummies. And now the Braves have just won their game (yay, about damn time boys) and I've now had three beers. The buzz is strong in this one. Time to end this post, take a shower (because I'm kinda ripe) and kiss all over my husband who has finally gotten home from work. If there was anything else I meant to say in this post, well, it won't happen.

Until next time

Ugh - Now With Updates!

Diva is here tonight. Superman and I had to get her from her birth mom Janice's house this evening. She has her court appearance (for third degree assault and giving false info to police) tomorrow morning and Janice couldn't bring her here, so she texted me this morning asking if we could provide transportation.

So at 9 tomorrow morning (Tuesday) I'll take her to the courthouse, then sit there watching the parade. If the judge lets her go, I'll take her back to Janice. If the judge sentences her to jail time, I'll leave dancing a jig of mourning.

I will update this post with the results of our adventure in the next day or so, so stay tuned.

As I write this update it is Wednesday afternoon. In completely unrelated news, our auto insurance expires and renews today, but we haven't received the proof of insurance cards yet. Either that or they came and the envelope was misplaced. A likely scenario in my world. 

But I'm stalling. 

Diva isn't here right now. Yes, Slugmama, I danced a jig of mourning as she was hauled off to the county detention center. The jig was more of a thought exercise than me actually bouncing my fat ass in the county municipal building. 

The judge dismissed the assault charge - nolle prosequi, which I've always pronounced nolo process, but I'm no JD. They nabbed her on giving false information. For those of you just tuning in, she was in a fight on the school bus a week after she turned 17. The cops were called, she told them she was 15 to avoid being charged as an adult. Then of course while processing the report it came to light that she was actually 17. She was arrested right here in our living room on New Years Eve. It was the most exciting thing we did on NYE this (last) year, but we're boring. 

The fine, I guess it's the maximum fine but we didn't know that, was $1092 or 30 days in jail. The judge reduced the fine to $175 or 10 days in jail. Well, we aren't going to pay one thin dime for her mess. We've suffered enough expense, both monetary and emotional, on behalf of this child for the last 16 years. Diva tried to call her bio-dad, Robert, but he wasn't available. She texted Janice, who couldn't do anything about it but asked Diva if we were going to pay. HA! When she couldn't contact anyone else, they took her across the street to jail. I was giddy! I giggled all the way home. (Which little piggy does that?) 


Robert called me in the afternoon when he got a free minute and we had a very nice conversation. I like Robert. He indicated that he was going to come down to Greenwood from where he lives near Spartanburg to pay her fine and take her home. Not my home, mind you, but either Janice's or his. I talked to him again last night and he said he'd be here in the morning to get her, but I haven't heard anything from them. She brought a few things here when we got her Monday night and I expect she'll come by to get them. Maybe not. 

I spoke with the clerk of court (I think that's her position) about Diva's sentence. She said Diva will only spend 5 days in jail unless she acts up. Time off for good behavior. So 30 days really means 5. Good grief. Also the fine will be reduced a bit for every day she stays in jail. That makes sense. 

So right now I don't actually know where Diva is. She might be in jail, she might be with Robert. I really don't care (much*) as long as she isn't here!

* She's my daughter. We tried (Lord knows, we tried) to make this family work, to integrate her into the family as befits a daughter. She has resisted our efforts almost from the first, when we got custody of her on February 4, 1999. Almost 16 years ago exactly. I have invested so much in this relationship, in her. We have 16 years of history together. It is impossible for me to divorce myself from her emotionally. I mourn the family that we could have been. For my health and sanity I'm letting it go (shaking it off, as is so popular these days) inasmuch as I am able. It is a complicated relationship, and she will always to some extent be my daughter. So of course I will always care about her, what happens to her, what she does. But I will no longer wrap my life around her. 

Further news from the front lines

Three things I want to talk about specifically: Diva, Sproing, and my health. Let's start with my health.

For those of you just tuning in, my previous post explained the diagnosis of endometrial cancer. Or actually, precancerous atypical cells in the endometrium. They seem to have caught it early, it's likely restricted to the endometrium inside the uterus, a complete hysterectomy will probably be the only treatment I'll need. Unless the cancer has spread, which is unlikely and I'm studiously pretending that it hasn't. No use worrying about something that probably won't happen.

I saw the gynecologic oncology doc last Wednesday. I like him. And he comes highly recommended. Both Superman and I feel a lot better, more secure, less nervous having met him. My surgery is scheduled for the 5th of February.

I have to get my cardiologist to sign off on the surgery first. I had a few episodes of Pre-Ventricular Contractions (PVC, also known as Poly Vinyl Chloride) last year. The cardiologist seemed to think it's no big deal, the PVC won't affect my heart's function at all. But the surgeon won't cut until the cardio says it's OK. The cardio appointment is the 3rd of Feb. We're cutting it kinda close here, guys.

I get to do bowel prep the day before surgery. I asked about that, even, and it is standard procedure. After having some of my guts removed I DO NOT want to be straining to empty my bowels anytime soon. So the magnesium citrate will clean me out before and I shouldn't have to worry about anything for a few days thereafter. For some reason that gives me great comfort.

Any more questions? Ask in the comments and I'll try to post again with answers.

OK, let's talk about Sproing. He is incarcerated in a "camp," a dreary flat sandy compound of low flat gray buildings. It ain't luxury, but then this is punishment, so good for it. He seems to be doing well in that well structured environment. He's mostly behaving himself and is working toward his goals. There was some question in his mind (but no one else's) as to how long his sentence is. He thought it was 1-3 months, but everyone else was saying it's 1-6 months. He keeps asking me to check with the local probation officer, so I finally did earlier this week. His sentence is 1-6 months. According to the case worker at the camp, this was fully explained to him last week. I think he didn't like the answer so he asked someone else. Sorry, chump, the answer remains the same. Anyway, at the rate he's progressing through his goals, he'll likely be released in early to mid March. He was thinking February, but not so fast. I'm glad he's not getting out when he thought he would, because that's when I have my surgery. I don't need him to help me recover. Contrarily, I think he wouldn't help at all.

In related news, my relative is in jail. My oldest nephew, now in his late 20s, is awaiting trial on a drug charge. He spent a while in jail not too long ago on drug charges. According to his father, this time he will probably get 10 years in prison. Prison is not jail. Jail is relatively short term or temporary housing, like how my nephew is in jail awaiting trial. If one has a short sentence to serve (like Diva might. More on that in a minute.) then one spends a few months in jail. For long term incarceration, it's prison. Neither is pleasant, but prison is way more hard core. I feel bad for my nephew, but he's been stupid enough to get himself into this situation. I have no doubt that he is guilty of some drug related shenanigans, if not exactly what he's charged with. We shall see. My brother is about too frustrated with his son after all this time. He and I share a sense of resignation about the fate of our children. We've done the best we knew how, with every good intention, but these kids make their own decisions about stuff and shit happens.

Now on to Diva. A lot has happened in the last few months, and I know I'm not going to hit every point here. As mentioned in past posts, she got in touch with her birth mother Janice in late summer/early fall. Diva spent almost every weekend with Janice to begin with. Then it was every other weekend, or once a month. But both Diva and Janice talked about Diva moving up to Spartanburg County to live with Janice. Of course Superman and I thought that was a stellar idea. The tentative plan was to move her up there after the school semester ended here. And that is what happened. The closer we got, the less enthusiastic Diva was about the idea. She did not/does not want to live with us. She has made that clear over and over again for years. She would like to live with her friend Shi and Shi's mother.

Shi just turned 18, dropped out of school as soon as she was old enough, which coincided with her 9th grade year if I recall. She was quite a bit older than her 9th grade peers, having been held back a few times because of failure to attend school. See a pattern here? Shi's mother is a high school drop out. Says she's got her GED, but I don't believe her. They got kicked out of public housing, though I never found out why. Over the three or so years we've known them they have been evicted from every place they've lived, and each place is more wretched than the last. Last week they were evicted from one of the nastiest little trailers I've ever known of, for not paying their rent. And Diva wants to go live with them. They are staying with Shi's grandfather temporarily, but are technically homeless. So no, we don't think it's a good idea for Diva to stay with Shi. She wouldn't go to school if she lived with them, and we very much want her to get her high school diploma.

Janice also wants Diva to get her diploma. As I've gotten to know Janice over the past few months I really like her. I appreciate her efforts, and agree with what she says are her priorities. (The proof is in the pudding. She says a lot of hopeful things, but time will tell if she really means it. So far, though, so good.)

The local school district ended first semester on the 14th of January. I took Diva to withdraw her from school. She was supposed to have been in school that week to take her final exams, but since she'd missed so much school already, she failed all her classes due to absence. So we withdrew her, and took her up to Janice the following Sunday, Jan 18th. She's been gone a week now. Oh My Gods you have no idea what a relief this is! Superman and I feel almost giddy with relief, freedom, release.

Janice took Diva to enroll her in the local school district on the 20th, the day after Martin Luther King Jr. day. Funny story. The district looked at her transcripts and decided to put her in the alternative school due to her excessive disciplinary write-ups. Last year Diva almost went to our alternative school, but because of her Individual Education Plan (IEP) accommodations they decided to leave her to disrupt the "normal" school. But not now! Oh, also, they didn't let her start last week. This Monday will be her first day of school. I don't know what she's been doing for the past week. Maybe driving Janice crazy.

And did I tell you that Janice has five more children younger than Diva? She had two more girls after Diva, then three boys. And Diva has an older brother. Don't know if the older brother lives with them, but with Diva there are at least six children in the house, and it isn't a big house. I'm just snickering.

But get this: today Diva called us and said she doesn't want to stay there anymore. "Tough shit, bitch!" No, I didn't really say that. I was very sweet when I told her that no way in hell was she coming back here. I said all the plans are now in place for her to be there and she needs to stay. "But I haven't started school yet." But you're already enrolled up there. She didn't get the response she wanted. Sucks to be you, girl. We weren't on the phone long.

So let me tell you about Diva's legal trouble. Four days after she turned 17 (this past December) she got into a "physical altercation" on the school bus, one serious enough for the bus driver to call the police. When questioned, Diva said she was 15. The point here is that at 17, young people are treated as adults when they commit crimes. The consequences of fighting on the bus are very different at 15 than at 17. As an "adult" Diva was charged with assault of some kind. Third degree assault, Superman tells me. And because she gave false information to a law officer, that's another legal offense. If I remember correctly, it was the day after Christmas that law officers appeared at our door with an arrest warrant for the Diva. They took her downtown for her arraignment before the judge. Superman followed a few minutes later, as the cops told us she'd see the judge and be done in a few minutes. Each of the two offenses carries a fine of $1092 or 30 days in jail. For each offense. There is a chance for her to participate in the pretrial intervention program for first time offenders, but that costs $350, of which we won't pay any. Not for her. And she doesn't have the money. She has to apply for pretrial intervention before her court date, which is this Tuesday the 27th.  And now she lives an hour or so away.

Diva says her birth father won't let her go to jail, and will come up with the $350 for pretrial intervention. They'll have to do that on Monday if it's to work. At any rate, she needs to be in the Greenwood County court house at 8:30 Tuesday morning or she's in contempt of court (or whatever that charge is). I've washed my hands of the whole affair, except for the part where I'm following closely to see what happens. Of course if she isn't there and hasn't applied for pretrial intervention, she'll be arrested again. She just doesn't seem to comprehend that she can't do whatever she wants with no consequences. It makes me sad, but mostly I'm sad because I'm not as upset as perhaps I should be. She has dumped so much shit on us for so long, that she's used up all my give-a-fucks.

Right now I am focused on my health. I am so grateful that neither of our youngest children is here to mess with my head and distract me from this priority.

The bad kid journal: Sproing edition

He did it again. He and his crime companion broke into the church, the same one they hit a last month, and stole food. According to the detective they sat around in the church kitchen drinking soda and eating candy and other junk food. It's considered felony burglary, though. Sproing says he didn't do it. He has lied to me enough recently (hell, and probably for a long time and I was clueless) that I don't believe him now.

He's an idiot. The frustrating thing about it, though, is that he's smart. He's intelligent. He ain't got no wisdom, obviously. The Law takes these things seriously, and these kids need to, also. On one hand, you could say they were just kids being kids. On the other hand, the law is the law and they broke it. That, of course, is how the law sees it. I just spoke to the detective handling the case. He showed up on my doorstep as I was tying this. Nice young man. I wish him luck with this investigation.

Oh, and y'all? Don't shoplift at Wal-Mart. Did I mention Sproing and his crime partner got caught shoplifting a week and a half ago? At Wal-Mart. The loot? Candy and other snacks. They're idiots.

Yesterday the detective told me about a woman who shoplifted a bottle of water from W-M. Wal-Mart is serious about shoplifting, and they've got "flesh eating lawyers" and lots and lots and lots of money to devote to the problem. And they like to make examples out of people who shoplift. According to the detective, the woman was fined $2100 for stealing a $1.50 bottle of water.

Anyway, I don't want to think about it anymore today.

Here's a quote I found in one of my daily email subscriptions 
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
-Ella Wheeler Wilcox, poet (1850-1919) 

Yep, I caught it

I'm sick. Chest cold with sinus/ear/nose/throat involvement. You don't want details. Saw the doctor yesterday and am on antibiotic now. I suppose I'll feel better in a few days. In the meantime I'm trying to rest a lot and drink plenty of fluids.

I don't really feel bad, as such. Not good, but not terrible. Just stupid. I've got that dull brain thing that happens with illness. Happens to Superman all the time, and it's annoying when it's someone else. Pretty damned annoying when it's me, too.

So let's try to talk about last weekend. Yes, we went to northwest Georgia for the funeral of Superman's aunt. It was good, I guess. This is the first time in nearly 10 years, I think, that I've been to Superman's hometown, visited with his family. I've been staying home with Diva so she doesn't have to go for the past few years. After Diva assaulted me a couple of years ago she was "disowned" by my in-laws. So when Superman goes to visit them, Diva stays here with me. Also, the last time I went there was some strife, the details of which I now forget. Our relationship, me and the in-laws, has been rocky. Lots of miscommunication, misunderstanding, lack of patience, etc. We can be nice to each other sometimes if not for very long. This time we stayed with Superman's brother instead of his folks. That worked very well.

The funeral was a funeral. They're all Baptists, which is fine for them. The service itself was nice, I suppose. Visitation the day before was a bit odd. I hung out with Superman's uncle, the remaining brother of my MIL's sibs. There were four girls and two boys in their family. MIL is second from last in birth order. Oldest boy died of cancer over 10 years ago after chain smoking most of his life. Aunt Jackie, the nice one who died last week, was girl #2. Uncle Ronald is the remaining brother. He's something of a bad boy. He and I sat in the corner at the funeral parlor and told ribald stories. Shhh: don't tell my mother-in-law. For the most part I behaved myself. I don't think I said anything wrong. The best thing is for me to keep my mouth shut when I'm around them. So except for laughing at Uncle Ronald's stories and adding a couple of my own, I think I did OK. It was hard to keep my mouth shut, though. Especially when my sister-in-law showed up. She and I are very different. She spends a lot of time on her personal appearance: hair, makeup, clothes, etc. I don't. So she showed up for the visitation with her hair looking like she stuck her finger in a light socket. And I know she spent a long time getting her hair to stick out all over the place like that. It looked frightening. I didn't say a thing until Superman and I were alone at the end of the day when we could laugh just a little bit at her between ourselves.

We would have had a lovely time away from home if home hadn't kept calling. We'd been with the in-laws for less than an hour Saturday when Twitch called to tell us that Sproing had been arrested for shoplifting at Wal-Mart. The kid (Sproing, not Twitch) is supposed to be grounded, which means not leaving home. But he snuck out with his partner in crime, walked to the store and got caught shoplifting. The sheriff's deputy brought him home and released him to Twitch, who is for their purposes an adult. The deputy called me, though, and we talked about Sproing. I would like for her to have taken the little snake to jail, but she said they couldn't do that for a shoplifting charge. Oh well. Once he goes to court for this offense, though, he may get sent to the DJJ facility. Whatever. I've done what I can with the little snot. I'm sick and stupid. I can't talk to him.

We've done what we can, you know? Of course we haven't been perfect. There are probably a lot of things we could have/should have done differently. But we did our best. Are still trying to do our best. These little snots (both of them) can go hang. Right now I don't care.

Diva did OK, I think, this weekend. She doesn't seem to have caused any major trouble, at least none that we are aware of now. I appreciate that from her.

Also, on Saturday evening Twitch called telling us that the fireplace chimney wasn't drawing properly and there was smoke all through the house. Well, shit. Though when we got home Sunday night Superman couldn't find anything wrong with the chimney. It worked fine yesterday. Oh well. And while we were gone the dryer broke. The heating element quit working somehow. Superman took the back off the dryer yesterday and found the broken part. He showed me. It's small and has a  name. Some kind of regulator thing. I don't remember because I am stupid today. But he's already ordered a replacement part and hopefully will have it fixed later this week.

I did some knitting over the weekend. Knitting is a good thing to do when visiting with my parents-in-law. It keeps my fingers busy, gives me an outlet for nervous energy, and provides a safe topic on which to speak. And that's all I know.

In which we discuss dragons and beatings among other things

"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." -- G.K. Chesterton

**

Never a dull moment around here. Unfortunately. Oh, for some of it I am grateful, but for some I'd like it to stop. Just stop. And go away. 


We'll start with Diva. Of course. The short story: Superman got both of the youngsters phones a few weeks ago. Sproing, it's a good idea for him to have a phone. Diva not so much. Not much at all. And I told him this, but he proceeded. She had the phone for maybe a week before she sent and received sexually explicit texts. She was exchanging texts with some guy I'd never heard of. On the advice of her former probation officer (she's off probation now, but this lady is a good resource) I called the police. That's the end of the short story, but I want to tell you more, so the next paragraph will be more and you can skip it if you'd like. 


The police officer saw the questionable photos (there was some video she'd taken of herself, too. Ick.) and wondered about the age of the young man who'd sent a way-too-complete picture of himself. All this took place on the kids' last day of school, last Wednesday. The officer took the phone and a copy of our rules for cell phone use* to the school to talk to Diva. Hee hee. It was "field day" at school, all the kids were outside or in the gym doing fun activities, etc. The officer (he told me later) went in and had a teacher call out Diva, and he and Diva had a little talk. When he brought the cell phone back he told me she was spitting mad. I suspected she would be. I had told him of her previous run-in with the law in which she assaulted me, so he warned her not to take this out on us physically. If he heard about her attacking me (or Superman) he'd come and haul her to jail. By the time she got home from school (about two hours later) she had calmed down to the point that she didn't want to interact with us at all, which was fine with me. She spent the afternoon in her room. Later that afternoon I heard back from the officer that the young man she'd been texting may be older than he looked. The next day a detective came by and we discussed that briefly. The stupid idiot may be an adult, if he's the one they suspect. The detective said that maybe nothing will come of it, as Diva and the old-enough-to-know-better SOB didn't actually hook up. I allowed as how I didn't necessarily want him to get in trouble, but a good scare would do him a world of good. One of Diva's messages to him asked if he was going to "come over and fuck me next week."  


So Diva no longer has her phone. She will not be getting it back any time within the foreseeable future. And I can foresee a pretty long way. 


Poor Superman. He wants for his daughter to be a normal, sweet, fun-loving girl. And he pretends she is, which is where trouble starts. I told him yesterday (after yet another major inconvenience but not-quite-disaster of her making) that he has got to stop pretending she is normal. It leads to trouble. Though yesterday's mishap was partly Superman's doing. He was treating her as a normal child and allowed her too much leeway. He tries so hard. Unfortunately she is NOT normal, and his attempts often go the wrong way. Sigh
Let's move on to other drama that has nothing to do with Diva. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both of my gay children, C and Light, are currently in relationships but it's complicated. Light has been engaged to her girlfriend for little over a year, I think, but now that Light is at school in Pennsylvania the relationship is long-distance. And the girlfriend isn't a good communicator under the best of circumstances. They recently dissolved their engagement, but are still together, sort of. You know, it's complicated. And my dear darling Light is hurting. This is hard on her. I wish I could make it better, but I can't. And this sort of experience is necessary for personal growth, so I must not try to fix anything. I just sympathize, and hurt for her pain. 


C has been involved in this pseudo-relationship thing for a few months now. There's this ... boy, really. He just turned 18 in December. C sort of fell in love with him. I told you about him before, called him The Youngster, I think. But The Youngster isn't in love with C, and has been up front about that all along. He likes C, but only as a friend. Well, until recently C and The Youngster had been hanging out together a lot for the past couple of months, but The Youngster went back to his mom's house to help her out. Since then his communications with C have gradually become less frequent and less ... intimate might be too strong a word. C senses that The Youngster is pulling back. I think (for what it's worth) that C has been too solicitous, done too many sweet loving sacrificial things for this kid. It's like he's trying to make The Youngster love him. That does NOT work! And it's a lesson C has to learn for himself. Yesterday was C's 24th birthday. He needs to make friends with people his own age. And The Youngster is from troubled circumstances with associated emotional difficulties, etc. As my therapist said, If they're broken when you pick them up, they are going to stay broken. (Or something like that.) The same applies to falling for drunks and abusers, which happens all the time. I want better for C. He needs to want better for himself. The Youngster is a nice kid. I like him. But he is not a good match for C. IMHO, he has a lot of growing up to do before he is ready for a serious relationship. 


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Light's had a rough time of it recently. Her cat got away. He was an inside-outside cat when he lived here, but has been exclusively inside since they moved to Pennsylvania last August. Last Monday Light took out the garbage and the cat snuck out. She didn't realize he was gone until he did not wake her up by sticking his nose in her face Tuesday morning. She's looked around the neighborhood, left food on the porch for him, made "lost" signs, etc. but so far he hasn't returned. She is sad. 


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I think I broke my toe Friday evening. I was walking through the dark house and stubbed my right pinkie toe on the leg of a chair. I hit it HARD! Yeah, it hurt. And it kept hurting. It hurt all night Friday. I took some ersatz Tylenol PM before bed Friday and slept pretty well despite the pain, but it hurt in my dreams, if you know what I mean. The damn thing hurt all day yesterday, too. It hurts to put weight on that side of my foot. The foot is swollen top and bottom, and the toe itself is fat and black and blue. I had Superman draw a circle around the bruise last night, and sure enough, the bruise has spread since then. I think bruises do that, though. Anyway, it hurt last night, too, and today it hurts, but not as much. Well, not as much if I don't try to move it. I have stayed off of it and kept it elevated all weekend. (translation: I've been lying around on my ass all weekend.) Didn't hurt too bad when I stood on it this morning at first, but after a little while it hurt more again, so I sat down. I watched the Braves beat the Nationals 3-2 this afternoon. That was fun. I've been putzing around on the computer all weekend, too. 


I'll probably try to get in to see the doctor tomorrow. There's nothing to be done for a broken pinkie toe anyway. They might buddy tape it to the next toe to try to keep it stationary. Of course I could do that myself, but right now I'm just lying on my lazy ass not moving anything anyway. I have a Netflix instant-view movie booted up to watch after my haircut which I'll get after I post this. 


Yeah, Superman is going to buzz my hair again with the 1" guard on his hair clippers. The hair has gotten long enough to hold in the heat. It's hot here in The South, so I'm going to shave my head. Well, shave plus 1". It looks pretty butch, but not terribly weird. 


Oh, in other gender-bending news, some junkie bum called me "sir" a couple of weeks ago. I went to Baltimore (again) to be with Indigo after his mother died. Had a good trip. It was helpful, productive, and the right thing to do. But I had a bit of trouble getting out of downtown Baltimore onto the freeway toward Washington, and drove in circles around the junkie bum areas for half an hour or so. Some guy wanted me to give him money, and called me "sir" when asking. I told him no, but got a kick out of his perception. 


OK, on to the haircutting. Ta ta for now (ttfn). 


*GROUND RULES FOR CELL PHONES

1.     Cell phone use is a privilege, not a right.  As such, it can be withheld under some circumstances.

2.     The phones belong to the parents.  We supplied them and we are paying for them. 

3.     The phones are to be used for reasonable communication only.  No explicit, harmful, or illegal use of the phone will be tolerated. That means do not talk or text anything that is sexual. Do not make threats to anyone by text or talk. Don’t use the phone to bully anyone. Don’t talk or text anything that is illegal. For example, don’t try to hook up with someone for sex, don’t talk or text about buying, selling, or taking drugs or alcohol.  If the phone is used to make such calls or send such messages, it will be taken and kept for a period of a few days up to several weeks.  Getting it back will depend on:

a.      How bad the message was;

b.     How many were sent;

c.     What kind of fallout there was from the message;

d.     Whether this was a first offense;

e.      How you behave while the phone is off-limits.

4.     The phones will be turned over to parents at bedtime each night.

5.     On school days, the phones will be available as soon as you arrive home each afternoon.  On the weekend and school vacations the phones will be available after 9:00 a.m.

6.     You will be expected to take the phone with you if you leave the house after coming home from school.  Being able to contact you at our convenience is a major consideration for getting the phones in the first place. Do not ignore calls from your parents! You must answer the phone when we call you!

7.     You will NOT allow other children to use your phone.  If a friend needs to get in touch with another person, and you decide that is all right, YOU will make the call for your friend.  Having you in control of the phone will make sure that someone else does not send inappropriate messages using your number.  Keep in mind that there are legal issues involved.

8.     Please also understand that T-Mobile keeps records of all text messages sent for a period of up to 90 days.  So if we want to find out what you texted, erasing it from the phone will not help to conceal it. So don’t bother to erase messages.

9.     DO NOT MISUSE YOUR PHONE!

We read through this with both kids and had each of them sign our copy, agreeing that they read and understand the rules. And Diva abuses the privilege the second week she had the phone. Oy. 

** If you haven't seen "How to Train Your Dragon" you must do so at your earliest convenience. 

Yet another conversation with hard-headed children

The kids and I got back from taking S home this afternoon. It had been half an hour or so since the police officer left us. I thought about what he and I had discussed, and had watched the children interact with me, S, and each other. Thoughts are forming. Things need to be said. I talked to Diva first. She watched me, face downcast but eyes right on me. It gives her the appearance of a pout, the angry kind of pout. That may or may not be accurate, but that's what it looks like.

Then I talked to Sproing. I spent a little longer with him, as he seemed a little more receptive to my message. Maybe he was, maybe he fools me better, I don't know.

Here follows the gist of my message to them.

I am legally responsible for your actions and behaviors. Do you know what that means? (No, of course they don't. It was a rhetorical question anyway) Who broke the windows on the neighbor's house? Who stole the money from the other neighbor's family? That's right, it was you. Who gets in trouble with the law because of those things? No, not you. Me. Your father and I do, because you are our children. You are not adults, and since Daddy and I are your parents, we are in trouble with the police/law because of what you did. Do you think that is fair? (They had the good sense to say it wasn't fair.) I did not break the windows or steal the money. Neither did Daddy, but we are responsible for those things because you did them.

I try to be an honest person. I am careful to do the right thing, to tell the truth, and to not take things that don't belong to me. I have a lot of respect for other people and for the stuff that belongs to them. Haven't I taught you to respect yourself, respect others, and do the right thing? (It's my mantra. I have been drilling that into their thick little heads ever since I heard it at one of the elementary schools on my bus route. It's been at least 3, probably 4 years since I boiled it all down to those three basic rules.) You aren't getting the message. You aren't trying to live by the basic rules. As a matter of fact, you're getting worse. To my knowledge, you've never taken as much as $300 before. That is a lot of money. (To Sproing, as he alone was guilty of this) - As far as I know, you have never taken money out of someone's purse or wallet in their own home, like you did to your friend's mother. That's getting worse, not better.

Since I am legally responsible for the things you do, I need to make sure you don't do the wrong things. We have tried different punishments on you before. You've been grounded and restricted, had privileges taken away, been spanked. We have set rules that you know and understand. These things obviously aren't working. We have tried to treat you with respect. We have tried to trust you. We have allowed you the freedom to have your own friends, to play with your friends, to play in the neighborhood by yourself. No more. I am legally responsible for your actions. It is my duty as your parent to make sure you do not break the law. The only way I can be reasonably sure that you won't break the law is to keep you locked up here at home.

So that's what we're doing. You will no longer be allowed out. You will stay here in your room for a very, very, very long time. I'm not talking about hours. I'm not talking about days. No, I mean weeks. Weeks and weeks, and probably months of this. Otherwise I can't keep track of you. I can't make sure you aren't breaking the law again.

When you break the law like this, you can go to jail. Yes, Daddy and I are held legally responsible, but the state juvenile justice department has a special prison for children, the juvenile detention center. If you keep doing the things you have been doing, that is where you will be. I don't want you to go to jail. It's not a nice place. There are other children there who are a lot meaner than you, who have done a lot worse than you. I don't want for you to be with them. The only way I can see to keep you from committing more crimes and ending up at the department of juvenile justice detention center (DJJ lock-up) is to keep you at home. So, for your safety and my reputation, you will stay home from now on.

And that's pretty much, more or less, what I told them. I talk a lot. I've had conversations of this nature with both of these kids for years. It hasn't been this specific message before today, but they often hear my lectures. And, obviously, it does no good. I must do it, though. For one thing, they must have the chance to hear the conditions, the rules, the consequences. For another thing, it's a compulsion with me. I talk. I lecture. I must.

I say some wonderful things, too. You'd be amazed at what a fountain of wisdom and common sense I am when I'm in full lecture mode. (Lecture mode is very different from all-out yell, scream, rant mode. There's practically no wisdom or common sense in those atrocities.) Alas, it is wasted on these reprobates.

It's a balancing act, and a damned difficult one. On one hand, I am responsible for keeping them out of trouble. On the other hand, I'm responsible for taking good care of them. I don't think it's healthy for 11-year-olds to be kept in their rooms all the time, to not be able to play with others, make friends, etc. And one of the reasons they are in their rooms here, not just in the house, is that I'm trying to protect my own property as well. When I said to the boy that he had not, to my knowledge, taken money from someone's wallet, I was excluding the wallets of members of this household. They both have stolen money and property from probably everyone who has lived in this household in the last five years. That includes S and C. They started stealing stuff from Light and Twitch when they (Diva and Sproing) were 6 years old. By "stealing" I mean with malice aforethought. A three-year-old taking big sister's crayons doesn't qualify for this definition.

All the bedroom doors except Diva's and Sproing's have keyed entry doorknobs. It didn't used to be that way, but the older they got, the more stuff they were taking from our rooms. As it is, my bedroom door has been jimmied so many times that the lock is useless. I know she breaks in there all the time. I'm not sure whether he's guilty of that or not. I don't trust him, though. I don't trust either one of them.

So that's where we are now. I'm trying to be diligent, keeping an eye and ear on them. I have taken a tiny step back from the ragged edge of the abyss I was hovering over earlier today. Superman is on his way home from Chattanooga right now, and he'll be picking up Light on his way. I'll have reinforcements tomorrow! Also, my appointment with the psychiatrist was rescheduled (with no fee imposed) for 8:00 tomorrow morning. I need that. And I see my counselor on Thursday. Don't know what good all that will do, but at least they will know what's going on.

She's granting me perspective on the boy who goes out with a hole in his shirt

A hole in his shirt. Not so big a deal compared to an 11 year old girl who makes an obscene phone call to the school district-wide director of the arts program. 

And leaves the message in a voice mail.

With lots of foul words and insults. 

And gives her name and phone number in the message.

She's suspended from school for 3 days. She's in a lot bigger trouble than that, too. We're still working on the scope of the consequences for her. 

I'm not doing well.