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Don't Piss on My shoes and Tell me It's Raining

Saturday, Apr. 21, 2007 @ 8:02 pm
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Kick off your shoes and put up your feet. You may want to get comfy, I have a feeling this may turn into a long ass entry.

Before I get to the latest stunt my offsrping decided to pull, and my sudden sad flash of insight, I feel the need to enter the Wayback machine for a little history of The Idiot {who long ago lost the respect of being reffered to by his first name}. My son for some reason is repeating the mistakes of his paternal lineage almost verbatim, like there is some kind of alcholic asshole gene in that family tree, set to go off as soon as puberty reaches it's ugly peak.

The idiot wasn't always an Idiot and despite my rantings about him, he isn't an evil person, just a hopelessy fucked up one, who can no longer function as a normal person without the aid of mostly illegal pharmecuticals. I dont' know all of his history, but I have put together a picture of him based on what he has told me, and what I've picked up from other people, and the few short conversations I've had with his mom {who I've met} and his Dad, who I've only talked to on the phone and thru email. How a guy like this hooked up with a girl like me, is in itself a bad Lifetime Movie of the week.

He was born in 1962 in Milwaukee. His mother was a first grade teacher, and his dad had a degree in physics. He was a very brilliant man, unfortunatly he was also an alcholic, who eventually lost his family, who knows what else and in the end his life.

When Mike was about 5 or 6, they moved from Milwaukee to Fairfield Connecticut. I'm not sure why.

He also has a younger sister, who is about 6 or so years younger and was a bit of a suprise.

He was a fairly bright kid, but one with a bit of a rebelious streak, but I guess a pretty good student.

I know he and his father never got along, and his dad was a rather tough parent, the kind that expected him to memorize multiplication tables and quiz him on math facts and other stuff, and be able to figure it out w/o aid of a calculator.

This may be part of why he rebeled against school and eventually dropped out of high school, though he did get his GED, and had a fairly high score, a very high score from what he liked to brag about.

somewhere around middle school however, he decided that the kids who hung out under the bleachers drinking and smoking pot were cooler than the kids who studied hard, got A's and worked to over achieve.

I don't know most of the details of this period, but from what I've gotten he was in and out of trouble and was placed in a few different facilites.

After dropping out, he some how managed among other jobs to drive cab in NYc, and work some sort of construction/carpentry job on the Boarwalk in Atlantic City. Thru some detailed interent snooping, I know he also did time in NJ in his early 20's. He also mentioned watching his best friend die ofa gunshot, though I don't know any of the details.

He is definately not stupid in the sense of being Intelligence challenged as much as in the addictive, feel good now choice, over responsibility area. He can be an excellent mechanic/plumber/carpenter/repair man, who never met a motor/engine/tool he couldn't pick up and make do what he wanted. He has the skills that he could be making a bundle on his own if he were mature enough and responsible enough to actually put work before mood enhancement.

Sometime in the early 90's, for reason I still don't understand he and some friends deecied to go to work at some sort of jobs in Montana. For unknown reasons {though I have my suspicions} it didn't work out, rather than go back East where he didn't really want to be anymore, he had his friends drop him off here in Fargo.

It was a bout a year after this that I met him. He was in the parking lot, working on a car, with enough rust and a floorboard so thin, I think he could have driven it Flintstones style. I was walking home from a pizza party at one of my jobs {I was working 2 at the time}. I was barely 22, but having no responsiblity other than myself, was able to enjoy a good time. Thus I did have beer on my breathe, not a drink I normally like {in fact I hate it}, but it was the only non g-rated drink they were serving.

I knew then there was someting about him, that struck me as off, but he was also quite charming and I was lonely. I had just had a big blowout with a roommate who had moved out, and wasn't in the greatest of places.

We started dating in June, if you could call it that. More liek get together, get drunk, stumble home and have bad sex. By October the rabbit was dead adn Warren was on his way. June of the following year, Warren was here.

Still desperating clinginy to the false fantasy that I could fix everythign and if he loved me he would change and we would live happily ever after {boy is that a dangerous fairy tale to believe in},

To say we had a difficult relationship, wouid be like saying the dessert is a bit on the sandy side.

Between his alcholism, my undiagnosed bipolar disorder and a severe case of postpartum depression, things quickly esculated, or should I say escalatored., we'd fight like crazy, make up and be peaceful but on eggshells.

By the time Warren was 4, I had left, spent two weeks at the Ywca, and found my own place. Within a few weeks Mike has weaseled his way back in.

And so it goes. I won't bore you with the whole novel but I know Warren was put thru way more than any kid should have to.

Fast foreward to this morning, 5 am. While everybody else was sleeping, I woke up first to pee, and then to discover my offspring was no where in sight. I locked the door, so he would have to knock or sneak in his window to get in and sat down and waited. about 5:30ish he staggered in clearly still under the effect of alchohol and with a mood, that was so much like his father's I forgot for a moment who I was talking to. I was pissed and he just wanted me to leave and let him go to bed.

Forget that crap. I ended up calling the police on my own son. yes that is right I had to have my own son hauled in for being a minor in consuption, curfew violation and unruly. He is spending he weekend in Juvy and I have no idea what is next.

he also knows about my plans for the boy's ranch. He is not thrilled with me. He is still speaking to me, but in to paraphrase Judge Judy, still trying to Piss on my shoes and tell me its raining.

I have reached the point of no return. I love my son more than anything, and save for my mother he has the power to hurt me more than anyone on Earth. I have given more and done more for him than anyone. He is the only person I can say I love you to.

But there are certain things I will not tolerate. While my friends can tell you I am hardly a teatotaler at all times, I ma a very rare drinker. I have developed a very low tolerance for alchohol. I will not allow booze in my house. I have too many bad experiences with it.

I will not allow anyone to treat me the way his father treated me. I love my son, but his behavior has reached the point of being beyond acceptable, and I will not have it. I deserve better and he is destroying what could be a brilliant future. He is a very angry young man, who insists on taking his anger out on himself and those who most want to try to help him.

I've been doing some thinking today, and I realized I've been missing what has been right in front of me all year. Now it is making sense, the sudden change in behavior, the sneaking out at all hours, the Jeckyll and Hyde behavior. the sudden change from super excelling student who was doing wonderful to the kid who didn't seem to give a damn and was getting in trouble left and right. He obviously started drinking then. He denies it, and I had him piss tested once, but he must have stayed clean then.

It also explains his new friends, the dissapearance of some of his favorite things, the secrecy and other things I won't go into.

tommorow I am cleaning his room. No not as a favor to him, but because I need to do some major snooping. I need to find out as much as I can about what is going on. I have been protecting and babying my son, pretending things were fine when they weren't. Missing clues that were right in front of my face, and believing his lies to me, because I wanted to.

I'm done. I have no feelings anymore. Or I should say I do, but I don't have time right now to deal. I need to just function. I have to use a different part of me to make decisions based on what is best for my son, not on what my mommy brain wants and thinks she can do for my baby boy.

He's a real nowhere Man, Sitting in his Nowhere Land, Making all his nowhere plans for nobody.

Doesn't have a point of view, Knows not where he's going to, Isn't he a bit like you and me? Nowhere Man, please listen, You don't know what you're missing, Nowhere Man, the world is at your command.

(Lead Guitar)

He's as blind as he can be, Just sees what he wants to see, Nowhere Man can you see me at all? Nowhere Man, don't worry, Take your time, don't hurry, Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand.

Doesn't have a point of view, Knows not where he's going to, Isn't he a bit like you and me?

Nowhere Man, please listen, You don't know what you're missing, Nowhere Man, the world is at your command.

He's a real Nowhere Man, Sitting in his Nowhere Land, Making all his nowhere plans for nobody. Making all his nowhere plans for nobody. Making all his nowhere plans for nobody.

Beatles Not sure if it is a John song, or a Paul Song.

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Prequels ~ Sequels

Daily Dumbass:
Thankful For:
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~*~Have you read these~*~

~ Ode to a child who is no more ~
~ She's baaack ~
~ testing ~
~ Facebook me ~
~ Bleech ~

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Mini-Bio

In every neighborhood there is at least one house that all the neighbors gossip about. This is a diary from the woman who lives in that house. I am a single mother in her mid thirties. I live in North Dakota with my son, Warren.

I tend to be a bit of a slob, and am the opposite of a girly-girl. I am geek girl, who loves Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Buffy, Angel, action movies, science fiction, action adventure, Dr. Who, and so on and so on.

I love to write and while I don't post much fiction online anymore I would love to be a writer someday. I am also overweight, bipolar and suffer from allergy induced asthma.

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