Absolute Beginners

Two nights ago, I'd pretty much had it. My kid is a prickly sort of kid. He's not easy to love if you're with him 24/7. He's argumentative, loud, in constant motion, won't pay attention, doesn't listen, explodes about little things and is basically a landmine. We've come such a long way since December. I was rereading my posts from back then and our lives have really improved with the medicine and the boundaries, with CTY camp giving him a glimpse of what other smart kids are like, and with another year together, age and maturity.

But the kid's nervous about his new school and still mad at his father. honestly, I don't know how much of that is an easy excuse he knows we won't argue with if he throws a fit and we ask what's bugging him... and how much is truly his anger at his father, and at me, for not being together.

Sunday afternoon was hard. Delicious has been riding KoE hard, not tolerating any of his PITA behavior, and basically finding fault with everything the kid does. Which makes me snippy and miserable. Which makes K hide in her room. Which makes the KoE even more desperate for attention of any kind, so he keeps doing the loud, inappropriate, angry, argumentative shit that kills any hope I ever had of a normal weekend.

Taking out the trash is his responsibility. I told him that there would now be consequences for arguing about doing anything we ask him to do, whether it's his chore, or whether it's his duty as a member of this household to pitch in and help. I will be taking computer time away for bad behavior. I will be taking Pokemon cards away, which he can earn back. There isn't much else in his universe that he cares about. My parents would punish me by taking away extra curricular activities, to a point where I almost stopped signing up for them. I won't do that to him.

He was arguing and angry when he hauled the first bag of trash out. When he saw there was a second pile, he hit the roof, but still had to do it. He tripped on something going down the stairs--something Delicious had specifically told him to move out of the way before he carried the trash down, but of course KoE didn't listen.

I hear him outside screaming at the top of his lungs. SCREAMING. "AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!" I go outside to see what's going  on and there he is, on his hands and knees, scooping dirt back into a little pot I'd thrown away. His little pot. With the tickle me plants he hadn't thought to take care of. Which had died. Which I threw away. This, coupled with the fact that he had seen, in the trash, the crumbled remains of something he'd made at CTY camp, set him up for a big blowout.

He was screaming, so I yelled back: "THEY WERE DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME? DEAD."  Delicious was behind me and starting down the stairs but no thanks, he'd done enough already. This was my kid, who was yelling I hate you, about me, and I was going to deal with it.

Poor KoE. I held him in my arms and rocked him as he sobbed. "If you don't feed a pet, he dies. If you don't water a plant, it dies." He was so angry at me. I told him it wasn't fair to expect me to take care of everything for him. If the CTY thing had been important, it should not have been crushed at the bottom of his school bag with half an eaten something or other and a bunch of other trash. But apparently, it's my fault I can't tell trash from treasure. It's my fault I told him he would have to look after his plants, and that I'd try to remember but it was his responsibility.

And here we have it folks. When Delicious and I went to bed, he asked me why I was so miserable on the weekends. Gee. Let me think. I've ( married a man with no improv skills ) and have inherited a girl who eats six things and doesn't do anything exciting. And a son who is bonx most of the time. I laid it out for Delicious one more time. I have given up. I'm trapped in a house with people who can't improv. In order to do ANYTHING, we have to plan it weeks in advance. I reminded him that, whenever I make a suggestion, his first reaction is 'No.' I reminded him that, of all the people in this house, I'm the only one who actually seems to give a shit, and whenever I do, I get hurt and disappointed. Birthday cakes failed and unappreciated, Slobs sitting around the television watching Wipeout recordings. Doing the same old brand of nothing every fucking weekend. I'm over it. This house is a prison of apathy on the weekends. I also told him that it is abundantly clear that Delicious doesn't care for KoE right now, in fact, it's pretty obvious Delicious doesn't want to have anything to do with the kid. I reminded him that KoE doesn't have any friends. He's all sharp angles trying to fit into an obtuse world, is my kid, and he's hurting. He told me on Sunday he wishes he were 'normal.'

KoE is normal, in that who the fuck decides what is normal and what isn't? Fuck you very much, society. My son conforms to the rules as much as he can. Yes, I see a lot of his father's disconnectedness, his sneaking idea that some of the rules don't apply to him. I'm hoping having a normally fucked up mother, as opposed to the Wicked Witch of Paris, will count a long way towards tethering KoE to the world at large.  

But Fuck them all. I am going to come up with a list of things I want to do on the weekends. And I'm going to do them. And if anyone wants to join me, tra lala.

All this to say, ( KoE's nervous about school )

On December 11 at 11AM, we will be married at the Cottage at Glen Garden.  My son will be wearing a brown blazer with khaki trousers, winging their way from eBay as we speak. My step-daughter is psyched to wear her communion dress from last year. I'll give her one of my pashminas to make her look fancy. I'll put on my 1950's vintage dress and some heels. Maybe even a hat. My fiance will be suitably attired and I will have a family of my own, again.  There will be a guy to marry us and someone to take nice pictures.


We will then head over to Fredericksburg for lunch together, and I can show the kids a part of my childhood.  There is a holiday lights tour near the little b&b I'd found if we stay the night.  We'll come back to DC and that Sunday evening, I have treated my whole family, my parents included, to tickets to see the Christmas Revels, and we'll then have dinner together. Sounds perfect.

Delicious is in Seattle tonight, and we chatted while he waited for his dinner to be served.

We're both impatient to get married, stop all the wondering and waffling and doubt and just do it. A simple JoP doesn't float his boat, he wants it to be meaningful. Can we include the kids? He doesn't want my parents at the JoP because his parents wouldn't be able to be there. "How about Vegas?" he said. "We could find somewhere somewhat tasteful in Vegas? Although the words 'tasteful' and 'Vegas' don't go together at all, do they?"

"Gretna Green," I said, with a laugh. He didn't get the reference, stuck in his memory on a street in a planned subdivision. "Where all the naughty Victorian girls ran off to elope.  But they had to make it to Gretna Green, first..."

He wondered about a cruise wedding... and then his dinner came. He charged me with doing a little Interneting to see what might come up.

Bingo. Virginia is for lovers. One can very easily elope in Virginia, and there is some beautiful country here, no matter the weather. A long weekend in Virginia and I come back a Mrs.

Now, if only I could find someone to sublet a fully furnished apartment through the summer...

Tonight, he took my hand and examined the ring for a moment. "It gets smaller every time I look at it," he grumbled.

WTF?  He bought it, he knows what size that diamond is!!! It's beautiful, its shiny, it's well-proportioned for my hand and I love it. I know he's one of those guys who shows his love in action, not words, but I doubt he'd find a rock big enough to say it in diamonds.  It's perfect. Don't upgrade it, boy!

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