So Proud I Could Kill Him

It shouldn't surprise me that on any given day, I'm struck by the urge to alternately hug and strangle my child. After all, isn't this the nature of the beast, to some extent? For all intents and purposes, I've been extraordinarily lucky in raising my children, right up until *she* came into this one's life. There's no question in my mind that had she not, things would have gone swimmingly until he graduated this year and gone on to college.

Today, after several more weeks of barely civil silence, she decided to confront me while she had me cornered in the truck. You see, she doesn't like our house rules, and it creates strife between she and my son, and that creates strife between he and I, as he's busy trying to placate her, rather than telling her to pull her head out of her ass and grow up. ANYWAY, yesterday they were in her bedroom discussing an, "issue", which is against a house rule. So I went up and promptly brought him out. This did not sit well.

Today she decided she needed to know what it is she can do to "fix" our relationship. She wants us to be closer. Be friends. Be mother/daughterish, if you will. And all this will start if I'll just TALK to her. TELL her when things are bothering me! Why won't I DO this????

Well, honey, because it's a waste of time. Disaster strikes when I try to talk to you. It will end in a fight, or you stomping out and taking off, or crying, and I'm sick to death of the fighting. I'm too old for this shit, and my mental health just ain't good enough.

But WHY? I don't GET it, she says. Just TRY. I'm going to be here forever, because he wants me and blah blah blah blah.....

So I said, Ok, here it is. You know how on Sunday, when you came home...you came in and didn't bother to greet anyone? You were grouchy, you informed him you were grouchy, and then let him spend the next five hours trying to coax you out of a bad mood. At one point you slammed out of the house. He was expected to follow. You slammed back in. Why? You were tired. But it was allllll up to him to figure out what it was and FIX it for you. It wasn't his problem, but you expected him to just do everything in his power to make YOUR bad mood go away. That's one of the problems. The drama. You ask me what I want for my son? That's one of the things I want: No drama!

And I set house rules. You don't like them, but you know what? It's my house. It's S's house. We pay the bills. It doesn't matter if you like them. I have a sense of morality and ethics and I am tired of watching the two of you flaunting your sexuality in our faces. I already spend most of my time locked away in my room so I can avoid seeing it, but when ever I'm out, I have to see it. I tell you two that you're not allowed in each other's rooms, and where were you last night? In each other's rooms. I didn't say there were exceptions. I said NO exceptions!

My son is not my son anymore. I don't get to spend time with him; we used to have a good relationship and now his time is monopolized by you. From the minute he walks in the door til the time he leaves, you're by his side. He doesn't get down time. There's never a moment that I get to spent time with him alone when we can talk. I miss that. He's MY BABY, and I've lost him, and he's losing the ethics I raised him with.

Her response? So why didn't you spend time with him on the weekend while I was gone? And why doesn't *S* ever talk to him? And why does he roll his eyes and sigh every time I talk (because it's constant)? Why don't we ever go on family outtings? Why doesn't *S* ever talk to me (who gets a chance)?

My answer? I DID. I offered to do things with him. He locked himself in his room with his school books and a movie until we took him out to dinner. We offered to take him to a movie but he wanted to go home in case he could make plans to go out with friends. I wouldn't stop him from doing that because he rarely gets to see them as-------SHE DOESN'T LET HIM. Did I forget to mention that you needed to call him three times a day? That's not conducive to a social life without you.

Her response to me? Well, I guess he'd rather spend time with me than you. I can't help that. I even tell him that he should spend time with you, like go to a movie or something, but he refuses (bullshit, bullshit, bullshit).

Beyond that, she also said that we treat her rudely, are uncivil, that she and my son would NEVER have any fights if it weren't for S and I, and that she really, really feels bad that she's made me cry now...

This entire conversation has been interspersed with wickedly hurled invectives at me for bringing up their sexuality at all, and how dare I talk about it when their love is about SO MUCH MORE than that. Really? That's all it looked like when she was sitting in his lap rubbing one out for him on the sofa that night.....

So tonight was his school's awards night for graduation, and the little bastard managed to come up with about half a dozen. I was expecting one or two; but not five or six! Now I have to figure out how to manage my anger alongside my pride. It's a weird, weird feeling, wanting to smile and hug him, then make snide remarks.

At one point this afternoon, when the fighting was over, I realized something, and it hit me with a bleakness I haven't felt in quite some time: she's beaten me. I never thought it would happen, but it has. I've reached a no-win situation, and she's beaten me. My son-my sweet, sweet boy-has been taken by this vicious, conniving pied piper pussy and can see only as far as his next hand job. And yes, I hold him as responsible as she is, and I hold myself as responsible as well. Had I kept him in his native country where he belonged, none of this would have happened.

As always, hindsight reigns supreme.