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(can't think of a title that doesn't sound like whining)

You know what really kills me? I get up wake up every morning at 6:30, shower, dress, boot my computer and check my email, go downstairs and fix a school lunch for Derwood, do various chores in the kitchen like empty the dishwasher if necessary and I am back sitting at my computer by 8:00 AM, ready to start a full 9 hour working day. Derwood?s doing well if he manages to drag his ass of bed by 8:00, absolutely exhausted, and exactly what does he do all day? He has a pretty easy life: nothing too taxing to do at school since he's in special ed, has no homework EVER, and he spends the evening playing video games and riding his bike. Yet when I try to wake him up in the morning he acts like I'm dragging him from some sort of sanctuary into a cold cruel world.

This morning he got up way too late even to have breakfast before he left for school on his bike, in the cold and the rain, in spite of my reminding him of the time every 15 minutes. I?m a terrible (step) mother, I am. I should have dragged him out of bed at 7:30 and fixed him a hearty breakfast of hot cereal, bacon and eggs and then driven him to school or something.

I shouldn?t feel so bad though, (speaking of terrible mothers.) The kids were staying at theirs this past weekend as they do on alternate weekends. Lloyd gives us a call on Sunday afternoon and wants to know if his dad can drive him somewhere to return an amplifier his band used for a gig on Friday night. After this errand is completed, Redman drops him off back at his mom?s house, where she and her spouse are sitting on the front porch (in the cold) drinking and smoking. Now, we?ve been known to imbibe a little on the porch on a hot and lazy summer Sunday afternoon, but it?s usually on the back porch, in private. Whatever.

Derwood comes home from Mom?s at 7:00 just as we are just finishing up our supper of steak, home made fries and salad, and he?s still hungry. Apparently all his mother could manage to get on the table for their dinner was a frozen shrimp ring, which he shared with his brother. So we give him a portion of our supper and offer some to Lloyd, who declines. (Of course, later, he wants to be fed too.) Then we learn that for supper on Saturday he had a pizza and a carton of chocolate coated malted milk balls, which he purchased himself with the allowance his maternal grandmother gives him when he visits.

So, what?s up with that? You?ve got your children visiting for the weekend and you can?t manage to have food in the house or fix a meal for them? What?s the matter, too pissed to drive to the grocery store?

Filed under Parenting, Nov 16, 2006
 

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