My blogging absences usually mean either I'm ill, or that I'm dealing with family issues. This time it's the latter.
You know, the thing is when you have six young people, 4 of which are "adults" and believe themselves to be "grown"...well holy sheeshkabobs.
It seems the old addage is true: when it rains it pours.
I sometimes wonder how things can go along so peaceful-like for so long, and then suddenly WHAM all the kidlets decide to be a bit off-kilter and needy all at once.
It's as if they compete to make me crazy.
You know when the kids were young I mistakenly thought that when they reached that ever-seemingly-out-of-reach adulthood that my days of childrearing anguish, angst and penny pinching would be over.
I also seemed to think they would just morph into whomever they were supposed to be when they "grew up". Where did I get THAT impression?
I was wronger-than-wrong.
So, anywhoo....most of the recent drama in my own emotional/mental status has been wrapped up in my boy, Max, the one I thought was making me proud a few weeks back.
Boy, did he get me hook, line and sinker.
Again.
I can now admit that that pride in him was again misplaced, misguided and too trustingly given on my part.
I've always been a sucker where that kid's concerned. I don't know why. He makes me a complete dolt. I think it's because I always hold that hope that he will turn it all around and these *incidents* that seem so persistent will vanish when his manhood arrives.
So now I'm back in "oh sh*t" mode with that one.
The stepfamily drama of the moment is of course, the holidays.
My two stepsons are pictured above. The one on the left, Ryan, lives with us. The one on the right, Jr., does not. I'm increasingly grateful for that at the moment. Just don't mention that to him please. Not that it would matter as he doesn't want to like me, the wicked stepmother, anyway.
My oldest stepson, Jr, text-messaged his father to find out what time dinner is on Thanksgiving day. We were both shocked. We didn't invite him per se. It isn't that he isn't welcome, it's more than we KNOW better than to allow ourselves to bring such up to him.
We usually get our heads bit off for making Jr "feel guilty" if we dare to suggest he should be present for any event of our making, or that it might be slightly important to us in any way to have the family "together". Jr has taught us well that he will make our lives a living hell, in addition to making a scene if it is insinuated in any way that he should spend some time with this end of the family. You know, cuz it's all about HIM, so he feels ENTITLED to rip our heads off, stuff them down our throats and malign us for daring to want more time with him. I mean really. How dare we?
So, as it goes with kids, young people, alien life forms, or any incomprehensible being, we finally get "with" the program that Jr appears to want/demand, and we don't invite him to a holiday dinner, nor do we mention such to him, and *poof* we find out by text message that he's planning to attend.
How exactly does that work???? I'm stupified.
That child has gotten edgy since he hit the 18 marker. (Oh, and a little parental-alienation on his mother's part has gone a long way as well.) With that one we're basically attacked by saying anything more than hi or bye to the kid, so it's easiest to say nothing and expect just as much.
It wasn't to be though, not this time.
So, right after Jr texts asking not if he should come, not if he could come, or even if his lovely self is invited. Instead his text simply demanded: "What time is dinner on Thanksgiving?"
Yeah, cuz he's entitled to that. Don'tcha just LOVE what our little spawnings are entitled to from us?
Ron dutifully picks my brain for a "time" (umm, when the red button pops out of the turkey?) and guestimates noon. He sends the same said to Jr. via text message.
Does this mean if all the food isn't on the table and the button hasn't magically popped out of the turkey "on time" that Jr now has another excuse to be mad at me (cuz ya know it's the woman's job to cook) for "screwing up" his day or "wasting his time"? He won't blame his dad if his dad doesn't crawl out of bed at inth-thirty to put the damn poultry on, no, it'll be MY fault for being the one who DID drag herself out of bed on a day off. I find that impending accusation completely unfair, you know? If hes' so friggin' grown up now why doesn't HE cook the dang turkey? He's the one who wants a schedule.
The rest of us had just planned a more relaxing thing, you know, hanging out, talking, playing cards, watching football, and eating when we're hungry, and waiting until the damn button pops out of the turkey. That's when it officially becomes "Thanksgiving dinner" time. It's all on the bird.
I'm getting off track however. So, Ron sent the boy a text back that said "noon" and immediately Ron gets a reply that says: "I'm about broke".
Umm...okay????
Ron didn't respond.
I think my Ron was honestly heartbroken and hurt both. It doesn't take a genious to see where that particular text reply was leading. Jr. has upped the ante and demanded ransom compensation for his having to make a guest appearance for our meal. Talk about entitlement. It sends us the message that IF he's going to grace us with himself for the holiday feast we must at minimum provide gas for him, but preferably just give him cash to reimburse him for his troubles in coming to see us. Boy, does it make ME look forward to his visit. Not.
Jr finally text messaged again yesterday asking his father if he, Jr, drove down here to grace us with his lovely self and eat more food than anyone else in the house if we would give him gas money. Ron mentioned it to me. I simply told Ron to follow his heart and do what he wants. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot-pole. That's about a booby trap for a stepmother if ever one was offered, and considering Jr is 18 and we aren't raising him, I'm not entering that mine field. That's between Ron and his son, right?
And just imagine, that's only TWO of our shared kidlets. Nice, mmm?