sueeeus

Today my beautiful niece turns 12. She is an amazing person, brimming with wisdom, poise, charm, kindness, intelligence, and all things good.

Not long ago, she shared something with our family that stirred us all to our innermost cores. I don’t think that she will mind that I share it here.

Hi. I lately have been really stressed; a lot has been going on. I’ve felt pain for my dad that I haven’t felt in 2 years. It has been 2 years and 7 months and I wanted to just come on and say how much we love him and miss him. I feel like since he was so connected to our message board and his computer, by writing a quick few words he will get them wherever he is, and he will experience all of the family coming together through something so simple but so vital to all of us. So here goes: “Daddy, I have missed you for almost 3 years now. There isn’t a day I don’t think about you. I am not saying that in sadness but in joy that you blessed me with enough time to create memories with you. I have decided a new path for remembering you. Instead of being sad that you left, I’m going to be happy that you were here for however amount of time you were. Although some of the memories I have with you are not necessarily great, they are still with you. I love you. I miss you. And I am sooo sorry for forgetting the promise I made you. But believe me I will get it taken care of. I know you are better. I can finally feel it. I feel like the chains keeping me down, in worry for you have been released. Finally, I know this is what you wanted. Every day our family is getting stronger, closer, and I’m happy to say that I’m not mad, disappointed, or sad anymore. You freed me. My family and my friends have just continued to help cure me. Although no one will ever replace or refill the empty space in my heart for you, there is no need to worry; I have my uncles, cousins, aunts, mom, sisters, and even brother (lol). I’m OK. Thank you. I know I couldn’t have done anything to save you now. I think I’ve felt guilty all this time. Like I had the most responsibility for you and I failed. But now I feel like there was nothing I could do, I will always remember everything. The moment when we went to T– mountain, your life changing smile, and how much you loved family. No matter what, you enjoyed visits from everyone. That is the biggest memory I have. And I’ll never let go. Your ashes will be spread in Italy, I will keep my promise. Also, I won’t forget about the Caribbean. You always said you just wanted to run away there, so I will put some of you there too. I will keep every promise I made you (except the whole Olympic thing). Well, now I have to go but I wanted to share this little conversation with everyone in the family.” I decided to write that because I want to talk about him more, I want to have an intriguing conversation on the great memories everyone had with him before I was born. I feel like talking about him more and remembering him more will make him seem more alive, more, I don’t know, just more. So I thought I would say that. Oh, and I did something I have been afraid to do: I read the message board from October 27th and behind. I read all this stuff I was too afraid to know, it definitely helped. I recommend looking back at the board to years and years ago; our family has grown and although there were some hardships, we are still as close if not closer. I thank you guys for being so helpful with pulling me out of the place where I was hiding. I am forever grateful, and so is Daddy.

And from my sister:

That’s right, Princess!
Thank you for so thoughtfully honoring your dad,
and for sharing those thoughts with the family.
In this, you have instinctively brought him to life
in our minds, in the most loving way.
To understand his love for us is yet alive,
is to understand a very empowering secret:

We are his heaven.

We can live there, inside his best giggle
and most loving intentions for his family,
and watch in wonder as all his dreams
are coming true.
The best of Six of Nine is still
very much alive.
Thank you for showing us, Princess.

And from my other sister:

Princess, when you write or speak it’s as if you’re a channel through which God speaks to us. You are a true angel and such a tremendous gift to this family. We all love you more than we could ever say. Together we’ll all remember all that was beautiful in your Dad’s life. I’m so glad you realize there is/was NOTHING you could have done to change anything, but what you CAN do is live well and be happy. Your soul has so much wisdom that must come from somewhere in the spirit realm, a place that is timeless. When you decided to be happy and thankful for the time you had, rather than be sad for time you missed, you discovered a very important truth to living a great life. Always remember that and be thankful for all the blessings that you do have. When I was feeling down at your age your Grandma used to always say, “why don’t you go count your blessings?” and it’s true. One blessing I’ll be sure to count is having you as my niece, and you’ve added a great deal of happiness to my life. I love you darling.

And they all say it better than I, but this girl of ours, she is most precious indeed, and we love her dearly, so very dearly.

Happy Birthday, Princess.

• Although I’m still hiding out in my office, and generally avoiding the company, I am feeling better in general. We’re getting ready to take a few days off and visit my sister, who lives conveniently close to a water/amusement park. That will be the big hoorah for the teenaged house-invaders. They’re very excited about it. Plus, my sister and her husband have a boat and live near an amazing lake, and the weather is supposed to be nice. So. I will fork out a truckload of cash to offset the cost of operating said boat, and the kids can have more water fun. I will be surrounded by mostly relations of my flesh and blood, so I will take strength and nourishment from that. Maybe the teens will run off on their own and do their thing. I’m hoping they behave well, and interact well with their step-cousins.
• Being on insulin has helped reduce some stress. My numbers aren’t jumping all over the place now. They go up, they come down, they don’t go bang bang zoom pow bang.
• Getting the go-ahead to use a laxative has greatly improved things as well. Ahem. Seriously, though, I feel emotionally better knowing that I’m not all compacted with festering debris for days on end. TMI. I know. I know. But I feel better.
• Having those 3D pictures of my baby is such a joy for me. It helps me visualize him. I find myself thinking of him more, and smiling more.
• BB was placed in time out in the kids room at the gym while I was doing my water aerobics. He was throwing things and reportedly hit a couple of kids. When I ask him about it, he says he likes to hit. It’s a bit challenging trying to have a reasonable and logical conversation with a three year old. I want him to understand that it’s not nice to hit. He was broken of that before the home invasion took place. Now I have to start over. He’s being exceedingly belligerent, saying, “NO. I’m NOT going (to bed, to the bathroom, to daycare, to pick up that toy, to eat my dinner, etc.) NO.” I felt awful, that he got in trouble in a public place. I had mixed emotions. Awful that somebody else disciplined my child (albeit gently) and awful that he needed to be disciplined.
• We’re going to be towing a small utility trailer loaded with two refrigerators when we take our trip this week. The weight of the load is within the trailer’s limit, and the weight of the trailer is well within the specs noted in my van’s manual. Even so, I’m feeling nervous. There will be five people in the van and a heavy load behind the van. We will be riding very low. And I’m nervous. Must. Not. Think. Of. It. Denial is best for situations like this.
• Gadget keeps blowing off his chiropractor appointments. It’s very annoying. He should at least have the decency to cancel, if he’s not planning to go. Meanwhile, he gave them the wrong insurance card, so the billing is all whacked too. None of which really matters to him, because it all rolls to me. I, however, am annoyed. Especially because he has plenty of complaints over people in his line of work not being where they say they’ll be when they say they’ll be there. He should just cancel. Period. I don’t care if he doesn’t want to go to the chiropractor. We both tend to think it’s mostly quackery. But if he has an appointment, he needs to cancel it.
• I have some sewing/crafting projects in mind, but don’t want to start into anything until I have my home back to myself. I think I’ve become somewhat of a recluse or something.
• Tomorrow is my beloved niece’s 12th birthday. When she was 6 months old she (and her family) lived with me for a time, and I got to enjoy her in the best of her babyhood. She took her first steps to me. Me! I like to think of her as my girl, especially since I will not likely ever have a daughter of my own. She’s an amazing person, and I’m very proud of her.
• The benefits of the magnesium are sadly not fully consistent. I’ve had several night visits with my friend Charlie, who is NOT a good or welcome bed partner. Why are they called Charlie/Charley horses, anyway? Bill Bryson would surely know.

The nice thing about living with someone who used to be an appliance repairman, is that I can call him up at 2:30 in the afternoon and tell him that the schmancy expensive front loader washing machine broke during a spin cycle, because it got off balance and galloped impressively and terrifyingly across the laundry room floor, eventually overcoming the strength of the latch and flinging the door open (takes deep breath) and he will say, because he’s a man of few words, “Okay.”

And, by 3:45 p.m. he’s home, with the required part in hand, and by 4 p.m., one can hear the sounds of a machine going through various operational modes.  And by 4:09 p.m. he will peek his head in the office and nod when I ask if it’s fixed.

The only flip side, is that now that he’s no longer an official appliance repair man, he doesn’t have as easy access to these troublesome parts that tend to need replacing.  Back in the day, he’d save bits and pieces that were scraps from other repair jobs, but that had good parts on them that he knew we might one day need, and that way we’d have them for free.  This way, the silly little latch cost us a hundred bucks.  But at least I don’t have to pay for a technician and service call, which would be another hundred and forty or so.

Sometimes he’s worth having around.  😉

And I really do love him, in spite of the whinges that I normally post.

28 Weeks.

Today I got to see LB! He’s beautiful (to me) and I’m smitten even more. He seems to have an abundance of personality.

He smiles. (He frowns too.)

He’s peaceful. (He’s grouchy too.)

He sucks his thumb. I hope this means he’ll take to the breast.

He looks like he’s a sweetie-pie.

He poses. (And puts up with the paparazzi.)

I’m so in love. I can’t wait to meet him face to face.

What a wonder technology is. Truly amazing.

Now there’s a joyful looking woman. It’s amazing, really, how one can achieve so many different looks, depending on the angle of the camera. I don’t think this looks anything like me. But for a not very joyful person, she looks sort of pretty.

This looks more like me, but again, I cheat by taking the photo from a vantage so as to obliterate the multiple chin factor. Tricks of the trade. I like the blonde, but it still takes me by surprise once in a while.

So what’s new around here?

• I’m pretty sure I’m going to be ordered to start injecting insulin, after I see my doctor tomorrow. The numbers have remained bad. Sure, it coincides with the presence of the step-kids, coupled with an incredibly stressful bout of work, but it also coincides with third trimester or whatever that magical placental week is when all hell breaks loose in the realm of blood sugar control. I feel somewhat of a failure, as I thought I’d be able to manage the sugars on my own, but I’m no match for my present circumstances. Now, to try and coordinate a 3-month prescription before the end of June, because my medical insurance is switching to a new plan, thanks to my company’s unrelenting cost-cutting measures, and the new plan is fraught with more paperwork, claims, copays, and deductibles.
• Gadget thinks I’m being anti-social. Hey, my laptop is at the dining table, and everyone else is watching TV. That’s as social as I feel like being. And besides, these people aren’t the most considerate of youngsters. When I do enter the family room, nobody makes a move to make room for me on the couch. Our couch is a sectional with a chaise, so it can seat 5 very comfortably, but Gadget’s in his spot (the chaise), Sissy is next to him, and Bubba is stretched out over the remainder, stinky feet and all. Now, another, well-mannered, well-raised child (like any of Suse’s fine bunch) would hop up immediately to offer a seat. But not these. No. In fact, I actually did want to join them the other day, but met with the afore-described scenario, to which Gadget was disappointingly oblivious, so went to the dining table instead. My Beautiful Boy, BB (soon to be Big Brother), sweetly asked me, “Don’t you want to come sit with me, Mommy?” I told him there’s no room for me over there. He went and made a little spot for us on the floor. What an angel. Melts my heart. But I told him I didn’t want to sit on the floor. Especially with self-centered teenagers who are oblivious to the physical constraints of a large, pregnant woman.
• My work has been crazy ridiculous. I work in customer service, supporting very expensive widgets. Once in a while we get demanding requests in which we are expected to be miracle workers. Decode this data and tell me if my widget is in compliance with the widget regulators, and by the way, we bought it from somebody who changed it, and we don’t have any information that describes the changes. But do it anyway. And do it now. Because if you don’t, this widget will not be able to service our valued customers and we will lose tons of money. So do it now. And if you find anything wrong, tell us what it is and tell us how to fix it. So. Some people have amazing faculties in which they remain undaunted by such demands, but I have yet to achieve, let alone master that particular skill. I was able to get something put together, by the skin of my teeth, but it’s not at all satisfying. I sent the final report out today, with a big ‘FAIL’ marked on it, so I’ve been half expecting a phone call at home, requesting emergency troubleshooting to resolve those items which I failed. But what can I say? Dudes. If you don’t tell me how it’s wired, I can’t tell you how to fix it. Leave me alone!  As if I could really say that.
• BB loves having his half-sister and step-brother here, but he’s regressing and there will have to be a period of damage control in which we (that means I) re-establish good behavior. I do like how much fun he has. He has laughing fits and plays hard, hard, hard. But he also picks up on the belligerence and other attitudes milling about, so that part I don’t like so much.
• I discovered that my right ear has a mutant skin condition, much to my chagrin. My ears used to be my only near-perfect physical attribute, so it was with some horror that I discovered this condition today. I don’t know why it’s only one ear (thankful that it’s not two!) or if it’s stress-related or blood-sugar related (does diabetes affect the skin?) or what. Maybe I just got a sunburn and it’s peeling. It’s all red with flaky skin, so maybe it’s an eczema or something. Whatever it is, it’s not pretty, and I don’t like it.  I’m blaming the step-kids.  😉
• I should take a picture of my belly.  At 28 weeks, it’s magnificent, in the sense that a manatee is magnificent.
• I’ve lost my temper with Bubba a few times.  It makes my blood boil when he barks, yells, reprimands, or scolds my BB.  I told him NOT to do that any more, that I will do the reprimanding, and he’s supposed to be an adult, and take into consideration that three year olds behave like three year olds and learn to manage his own words and reactions.  July 8th can’t come soon enough for me.  I’m not proud of myself, but I just don’t have the time or energy to invest in nurturing him into a considerate, thoughtful, well-mannered, pleasant person.  That ship has sailed.
• I’m doing okay with Sissy, which is a relief, because she is Gadget’s flesh and blood.
• The magnesium is working.  No leg cramps!
• I’m going to have a 4D ultrasound of LB (Little Brother) on Thursday — I will get to see his beautiful face!  It’s a splurge, but I’m not likely to have any more children, and I had it done with BB.  I’m excited to get a look at this beautiful little boy.  Pictures to come!
• I’m spending a good part of my waking time trying not to be on the verge of tears; chalking it up to hormones and the home invasion.  I really need some good alone time.
• Blogging away ad-nauseum like this helps.  I’ve thankfully consumed the better part of the evening.
• Some day I’ll probably look back on this time and be even more ashamed of myself for my attitude re the home invasion.  But if I know myself well, I’ll likely deny it.
• Over and out.

The stepkids started whispering between themselves the other day, and when asked to share what they were talking about, they said it’s a secret that has nothing to do with the rest of us, and we’ll find out Sunday.

Oh?  Father’s Day? 

No, it has nothing to do with that.

So.  It turns out that the big secret is that according to their church, they aren’t to work on Sundays.

I wonder if they were complaining to their mother that I was having them work every day.  I only assign actual jobs on weekdays, and on weekends we do whatever, and sometimes that includes work, but it’s not scheduled labor, by any means.  I was planning on seeing to it that we do fun family things on the weekends while they’re here, but I’ve just lost all my oomph for that.  Gone.  Vamoose.

I’m a bit miffed, and maybe I’m taking it all wrong, but I said something about how we’ll not be doing anything tomorrow, because we’ll make it a day of rest and respect.  So, no movies, no games, no outings, no shopping.  A day of rest.  And meditation.

Gadget thinks I’m being ridiculous.  Or mean.  Or both.

I could see the importance of observing the ‘day of rest’, if they were actually people of devotion with gentle and meek souls, who lived their beliefs by speaking kindness one to another, showing consideration to others, and being generally wholesome in nature. 

Instead, I see it as an excuse to wield their will over mine, and I wasn’t even planning on imposing any chores on weekends, other than the things that need to be done daily anyway, like clearing the table and washing the dishes.  So now I want to be belligerent, and tell them that if they’re hungry, they can get themselves a bowl of cereal or a slice of cheese, because I won’t be working on cooking tomorrow.  And if they won’t do the dishes, I’ll save them for them to do the next day.  And by no means will I allow television during the day.

I’m a hard ass.  I know.

And my blood sugar is sky high.  180.  Most distressing.

The continuing saga of my lack of graciousness as a human being…

So this morning, the most annoying presence in the household, we’ll call him Bubba, came downstairs where I was preparing the all-American breakfast of hashed browns, eggs, and bacon. 

Good breakfast!  He exclaimed heartily.

My little one and I were the only others up, and I prepared a small plate for my boy, and told Bubba he’s welcome to have as much as he likes, because Gadget doesn’t particularly like that kind of bacon.

What’s wrong with it?

Nothing’s wrong with it.  It’s actually the expensive gourmet super thick sliced kind, but it seemed very salty, the last time we had it. 

So.  He takes a tiny portion of everything, and proceeds to pick away at it and inspect it and look quizzical at each laborious bite.  As if it’s the most disgusting thing he’s been expected to endure.

Had I not mentioned anything, and had the others been awake, he’d probably have wolfed down loads of it with gusto.  As is, he wore a pained expression on his face and took ages to finish. 

I know, it sounds petty, and it is petty, but it’s just one more addition to things that annoy me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yesterday, Gadget took Bubba to work with him.  Oh, the dramatic expressions at the end of the day.  One would think that the kid had been subjected to slave labor.  All he did was help install some appliances, for maybe half of a day, but I suppose it was the longest working day he’s ever had in his life (a deplorable shame, if you ask me).  He’s in for an adjustment, when he will have to work a full day every day, and with his skill set, he’s in for long days of manual labor.  Or another burden on society and the welfare system.

When he got home, he stretched out on the couch and moaned and sighed every once in a while about how exhausted he was.  I ignored it completely.  I think he wanted me to say something, but what am I going to say?  At the dinner table, he picked away at his food, again groaning and sighing.  Poor, overworked, exhausted boy. 

As is quite obvious, I’ve got little patience and respect for the non-hard-working.  I don’t think it matters so much what one does, or how much one makes, but to do it with ambition and dedication.

Meanwhile, I had the girl, we’ll call her Sissy, clean the carpets.  She did a right fine job.  I did the loading and emptying of the water and soap reservoir, but she ran the machine.  I think we went through at least 12 changes of water over the course of a few hours.  I let her stop after two carpets, and when I had my work break, I did my office, then after my work day was over, I did the kitchen stools.  

We had an ice cream treat when it was finished, and took a small outing to the store, which in itself was a treat.  Oh, Bubba was jealous that Sissy got to go to the store!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I’ve been having trouble with charlie horse cramps in my legs at night, and finally got a magnesium supplement to try and help.  I don’t care if it’s just a placebo effect — I got through a night without cramps.  However, I spent the full next day on the verge of cramps and could barely walk, so I don’t know what was up with that.  I still took some magnesium before bed last night, and thankfully, no cramps in the night and I can walk today.  My tailbone is very sore though.  This little wonder inside of me feels like he’s kicking and punching all limbs simultaneously!  I feel jabs in all quadrants of my belly.  He’s a little gymnast, just like his brother, who twists and turns in all directions in the night.  Little tyke tried to crawl into my bed twice last night — he’s on strict restrictions, having wet the night previously.  Stinker boy.  Mister Pee-body.

I’m not going to write about the recent meltdowns and the skyrocketing blood sugar today. It’s all tech talk today.

This weekend I slipstreamed Windows XP Pro with service pack 3. Ta da! Now how is that for technical? It sounds very Zooropa.

I followed a tutorial I found online at icrontic. Then I bravely took the plunge, encouraged by chem’s comment on macrumors and partitioned most of my Macbook’s hard drive for my new Windows XP Pro installation. And voila! Here I am (holed up in my bedroom, door closed to the raucous step-family, nursing my wounds from my most recent meltdown that I wasn’t going to mention), boldly blogging away, with my Macbook fired up in Windows XP Pro. Now I can actually edit my photos and manage my files and know where they are and understand their attributes. I was not doing well with the Mac at all. It’s all fine and good for those who are not control freaks, who don’t want or need to know where things actually are, and who don’t want or need to manipulate files. But I yam a control freak, and these things I need to know!

I was a bit reticent to venture forth. Mostly because I hate to fiddle with extremely expensive electronic gadgets. It’s so easy to do something stupid and cause permanent and irreversible damage. But I did bravely go forth, and all appears to be well. My dinosaur of a desktop can now die a leisurely death, on its own terms, and I will not mourn. My files are backed up on my NAS, and joy of joys, my Macbook (in Windows) can now recognize and speak to it! And! My wireless network connection persists! It was SO frustrating to constantly lose it when fired up in Leopard.

Sure, the desktop isn’t as pretty as Apple’s, with its clever dock, but that’s okay.  I have 165GB partitioned for XP, compared with the 40GB capacity of the dinosaur, and 2GB RAM, compared to 256MB.  I have SO much more capability, speaking of memory and disk space, than I did before, so I’m way ahead of the game and pleased as punch.  And beauty of beauties, I don’t have to buy a separate computer to replace the dying beast.  I’m good to go.

I don’t think I’ll ever buy a Mac again, though.  I can now say, ‘been there, done that.’

I think I gave it a fair shot.

Other People’s Children.

I suspect that the next month or so will be filled with laborious posts about me working through my lack of graciousness as a host, step-mother, and human being.

It could be, in part, due to pregnancy hormones. I suspect it’s mostly just me, though.

My blood sugar is up. Way up. It’s been a few days, and I want to try to regroup my inner self and work my way to a place of relative tranquility, and reassess before I call my doctor and get the order for injectable insulin. I know that stress wreaks havoc on blood sugar control.

I don’t know why I let things get to me. I think I might feel a bit helpless, in that I’m sort of forced into the situation of sharing my home and my life with near strangers for a while. It rocks the boat somewhat, and add to that the fact that I’m the one who is basically shouldering the expense for the better part of all of it. Not that I’m complaining that much about the cost (yet). I sort of doubt Gadget would be able to see his kids if he weren’t married to me (unless he moved to Kentucky). He doesn’t make enough to cover more than the child support (and it’s only for the one) and basic living expenses, so if he had to come up with enough to cover plane tickets, entertainment, and food, I think he’d be hard pressed. And of course he wants to bring both kids out. Which is fine for now, but the boy is 19 now, and at some point this summer I’m going to have to let it be known that he’s welcome to visit in future, but he has to get here on his own dime. Or else I’ll tell Gadget that he’ll have to come up with the tickets on his own. Oh, I don’t know. I sound like such a selfish money grabbing cow.

And of course, Gadget takes every opportunity to bring out the comparisons, that I don’t freak out when MY nieces and nephew are here, and I have a much higher threshold of tolerance for them than I do for his kids. It’s true. I tell him that of course I’m more comfortable with my people, just like he’s more comfortable with his. He’s been making comments about how spoiled and privileged mine are, and how annoying that is to him. All of which I don’t appreciate one bit. I think its in defense of his own kids, but it’s a childish way to reason things out, and I wish he wouldn’t do it. Just accept that his kids are the way they are, and don’t compare them to mine. Please!

In many ways, I think his kids are more spoiled. They’re not raised to be independent thinkers. They’re not raised to learn responsibilities. If they had more income to work with, they’d have more privileges and conspicuous consumption. As is, they each have their own TVs, VCRs, and DVD players in their own rooms. They have video games. They don’t have the latest and greatest, but they have much. I don’t plan on allowing my little one to have his own TV, ever! If there is TV time, I want it to be family time, and limited. The same goes for video game time. Bedrooms are for sleeping and imaginative toys/play, but not mind-numbing electronics.

People can live rich and fulfilling lives with very little income. There are many wholesome and satisfying things to do. But these people have very limited vision and imagination. I think Gadget is just as guilty of this as anyone. Why else would I call him Gadget? He always wants things. Motorcycle (unauthorized acquisition), boat, big screen TV, hot tub (another acquisition that I regret, frequently), fancy truck, electronics, and on and on and on. And he’s got most of these things! (I’m an enabler, and I need to make it stop.) I do make sure that I often express that there will be no boat, ever, unless it’s a rowboat or canoe. No snowmobiles. No ATVs. No dirt bikes. No, no, NO!

Anyhow. I’m trying to put my finger on what’s causing me the most immediate stress. I’m finding myself very weary with the boy’s attitude and mannerisms. He’s constantly making noises. There’s a steady commentary. Or else just body sounds, like noisy throat clearing, or grunts and groans. Lip smacking. Loud gulping when he drinks. And he sniffs everything. He opened a box of cereal and stuck his whole face in the box, then inhaled. I don’t know why, but it bugs the hell out of me. When I’ve got the food laid out on the table, he sticks his face close to the various dishes and inhales. It makes my skin crawl. And I think I saw him sneeze without attempting to cover his mouth, with the silverware drawer open. I hope it’s not true, but I suspect it is. I didn’t empty the drawer and re-wash everything. But I felt like it. I have kitchen towels for drying dishes and separate ones for drying hands. I have a huge stack of towels for kitchen use. I don’t want anybody using the dish towels for hands. And I find that it bothers me to use the same hand towels, even, after I see him using one. I think my OCD is teetering on the brink of something more serious. I’m a little ashamed of myself, but at the same time, think that maybe I need to just respect that this is the way I am for whatever reason, and work with it so that there can be as little rocking of the boat as possible. So I can always just get myself a fresh hand towel, and reiterate that the dish towels are only for dishes. It’s easy enough without making him feel like he’s untouchable. I think that may be what it boils down to though. Or else it’s just the aftermath of how I process the extreme lack of common sense and independence that I’m witnessing on a near constant basis. It’s very wearisome to hear I can’t spoken over and over and over again, without actually taking a moment to assess and at least try to figure out ____. I can tolerate it with my three year old. He’s three, and I’m trying to teach him to think about things and try things, rather than say he can’t. But these folks are not three. And I was over half way through college when I was 19.

It makes me grateful for my own upbringing. Yes, my dad was a tyrant and my mom was a martyr, and living conditions were generally deplorable, but they were both strong and independent people and they both had a good hard work ethic. Yankee Ingenuity. It’s something my dad would often say in reference to my mom. While he had the scholarly genius (and complete lack of common sense), she had the practical genius (and somewhat lack of scholarly intellect). And although neither were active in teaching us anything, that I can recall, we learned much from observation and example. We (some of us, anyway) learned that we can find a way to do nearly anything, given the will. We left home and struck out on our own at the earliest opportunity.

I can hardly imagine this boy on his own, making his own way. It sounds as though he wants and hopes to live at home, that his mother wants him home, but the stepdad wants him out. Of course he despises his stepdad. I can sort of see the stepdad’s point of view though. Even though neither adult is working, he does and has worked sporadically, so he is the only income generator in that household. I can’t even begin to comprehend the mother. I can’t put the points from A-to-B, that a person can live without contributing or generating some of that living. My mother was a homemaker, a SAHM, who generated no income, but she worked her ass off. She was in no way or shape any kind of a drain or burden on anybody. But their mother… They learn from observation that they can get by without actually working. It’s a shame, and it bothers me deeply. I guess she thinks she contributes financially, because she collects the child support from Gadget, and they use that to live on. So by bearing his child, she’s done her part until the girl turns 18. Of course I think Gadget should support his child. And so does he. It just seems that she should make an attempt to do so as well. If she were teaching them life skills, values, and simple appreciation, that would be one thing.

Maybe it’s a Southern thing. A Southern, cultural thing. I don’t know. It seems like there are hard-working, intelligent, and responsible people who come from the South. And if I think of it, there are plenty of unimaginative lazy people in every part of the country. Even here.  So it can’t just be a Southern thing.

Meanwhile, I need to get a grip.  I took my little one and left the house on Saturday morning, went to the gym, then got groceries.  I needed to be AWAY.  I felt bad, knowing those kids were feeling housebound and would love to go grocery shopping, but I needed to be AWAY.  We were gone for over four hours.  It helped a little.  Yesterday I left again, alone, just to go to the store for more groceries.  (These people eat a LOT!)  I’m used to quiet, so having people underfoot all day, making strange sounds on top of everything else, is grating on me.

Selfish cow.

The stepchildren have arrived. Gadget didn’t get to see them at all last year, due to irresponsible and inconsiderate scheduling on his ex’es part. They are here for a month and a half this time. He reports that their living conditions are similar to those of my own youth, a squalid shack in the middle of nowhere. It’s hard to fathom why his ex left him for a crotchety man eleven years her senior. If he had wealth, charm, or some other redeeming qualities, I might understand, but the only thing I can see (and I’m being objective!) is that he’s not Gadget. Apparently that was enough.

It’s sad to see the kids raised in an environment in which he has absolutely no influence. The step-dad is out of work, hobbling around recovering from having an ingrown toenail removed, and the mother has never worked. From what Gadget can see, they live on the child support that he sends for his daughter, and welfare and social services. They were receiving social security payments for the step-son that had something to do with his having leukemia as an infant. I’m not sure how that works, but he’s 19 now, graduated from high school, and about to face the future, so for some reason, the social security payments stopped, which means that much less for them to live on.

While we were dirt poor, we never used welfare and social services, and my dad went to work every single day, regardless of health. He was an emotional tyrant (and sometimes physical), but he had a good work ethic. Our house was a pigsty, but we had a band of nine wild ones and a harried and frazzled mother who tried her best to keep food on the table and clean clothes on our backs. If she’d had more energy and perhaps some parenting assistance from my dad, we might have been made to contribute with housework and chores. One thing is for certain. Each and every one of us counted the days until we could be out of that house and on our own. I left the very day after I graduated high school. I was 17.

So these two children are being raised by a mother who doesn’t and won’t work, and a step-dad who works sporadically. They don’t clean their house. Gadget wouldn’t even use their bathroom while there. Dirty dishes are everywhere and stacks of junk are everywhere else. When not in school, they watch TV, movies, or play video games, all day, every day. Or they go shopping. (??? I’m not even going to get into that…)

Neither know how to swim. The daughter is going into high school next term and doesn’t yet know how to ride a bike. When here two years ago, she loved to read and had a little spark. Now she hates to read, and she’s all huddled into herself. She mumbles incomprehensibly if she does speak, or she just doesn’t respond when spoken to. Occasionally, she’ll nod her head yes or no. She’s got extreme pronation in which she practically walks on her ankles, and now one leg is visibly longer than the other. We tried to get her to take interest in trying to correct her walk, the last time she was here, to no avail, and now the problem is much worse, and she claims not to care at all. She’s setting herself up for a future of chronic pain. We’re going to try to get her to at least wear specialty insoles. She snubs any reasonable shoes. Gadget is very angry that his ex doesn’t try harder to help her correct this.

Enter Sueeeus, the wicked step-mother. Sueeeus has rules. Every day there is a chore to do, and it must be done before any game-playing or TV/DVD watching. Work first. Then reward. And Sueeeus sets limits. Only one movie per day. Only one hour of video game playing per day. Only one hour of TV per day. (That’s three hours of leisure trash time, but one would think it was cruelty to the utmost extreme.) Oh, that Sueeeus, she is so wicked.

These kids are not prepared for life in the real world. The boy is very soon, as in several weeks, going to be out there. At least he has some enthusiasm, and although he has very limited vision and ambition, I think he will be able to make a way for himself. I hope.

The girl has no ambition. No interests. No spark. Nothing.

It breaks Gadget’s heart, and mine, and makes us both angry and frustrated.

***

A few days have passed, and thankfully, the girl is opening up a bit. They’re not grumbling TOO badly about their chores, although, in the long run, I may wonder if the price is or was worth it.

So far, we’ve nearly lost our freezer after being left ajar a night. Gadget worked all his magic on it, to no seeming avail, but it kicked back into operation after a full day and two nights. Phew. Such a sad and shameful waste of good food, though. That was just a sloppy oversight, not a chore.

Yesterday I assigned weeding. One might think it would be common sense that things IN planter boxes were meant to be there, and things outside of containers were not. One would think. Gone is my lavender and my dwarf bamboo. Present are dandelions, bindweed, and thistles. Today I reassigned weeding. They’re on their second round, having failed the first inspection. I’m not sure what they pulled this time, but the dandelions remain. There may be hope for my lavender and bamboo, because I noticed that they were just pulling tops, and not pulling out the roots. I re-instructed them to pull the roots up, using a dandelion as an example. They didn’t give me a very appreciative look. I told them that if they don’t pull the roots, they’ll be pulling those same weeds all summer. Another steely glare.

I haven’t told them that we might go to the movies tonight. They can wait and be surprised by that reward. Meanwhile, this weekend the hot tub must be scoured and sanitized, and the carpets and floor mats in the car must be cleaned. I’m sure they’ll rejoice over that. Next week they’ll get to steam clean the upholstered chairs and sofas. And the downstairs carpets. And maybe paint a wall or two.

Yes, I am the most wicked of evil step-mothers.