Christmas story with a twist.....ah ha moment

[Star*]

(recap)

The first time he ran away from homeat 15 years old; like any other good parents we scoured the neighborhoods. Driving around, and around frantically passing each other in our vehicles shrugging, upset, with that no luck sick pit-of-the-stomach feeling we had done something wrong, desperate to find our very upset child. We reluctantly called the sheriff and reported him missing.

At 15 going on 16 he ran away again. This time however we had a plan. We had been to through it before, gotten therapists advice and simply picked up the phone, called the sheriff and reported our runaway, then sat back and never moved an inch. Dude was the one that moved - to see if we were looking. Puzzled why we didn't come looking, then angry that we weren't out wasting gas while he sat in a friends house laughing, eating cookies, playing PS2 and telling his friends how stupid we were for running around looking for him when he was 'right there.' (oh ha. ha.)

That he went to school on his own was a miracle. Telling the school officials that I punched him in the eye, burned his clothes and destroyed all his books was not very smart. Two fold not smart in the fact that at the time was over 240 lbs., used to be a boxer, and if I could be provoked to hit any child? You wouldn't be going to school the next day. Despite the report Dude made to the police officer on campus and her attitude before meeting all nearly 6' of me in heels as she sized me up she quickly deduced that I did not hit my son. DF chimed in "If this woman hit a full grown man he'd be missing teeth, not that I've ever seen her hit a child, but honestly? Where is his black eye?" When we asked where he wanted to go "Home or Residential Treatment Center (RTC) he screamed as loud as he could 'ANYWHERE BUT HOME." we obliged him with a pre-planned bed.

So from there he went with his clothes (you know the ones I burned) and his books (which we turned into the school) to a Residential Treatment Center (RTC), then another, and another and then into foster care. Now he's at our house. We felt at 19 we were gracious to allow him to come back and let him sleep in the living room. It was a temporary solution vs. living in the park and being homeless. I turned his former room into my office/craft room and our spare bedroom into my closet. I'm happy with the arrangement, and don't intend on moving anything.

So last night Mr. I'm 19, I can't help you out around the house because all your chores are stupid, (um okay so while you were in FL we did all the stupid chores over Thanksgiving and now there is nothing to do to earn a nickle) comes in and says "Can I have $5.00?" (I laugh to myself) "Sorry I have no money." Monday he asked me for $10.00 for his friend to take him around to job interviews and I did give that. Tuesday he asked me for $25.00 to take the driving test to get his license. Last Friday he asked me for $$ to get his puppy food and flea preventative. WOW.

In the mean time I tell him I think I've been able to get him a job. Do you think I get "Thanks Mom, you're the best Mom, I love you Mom, Awesome job." Nope....I get yelled at because I don't know when he starts. Gosh what a guy. I tell him that he's going to have his rent, meals paid....and he'll get a check on Friday. He'll be able to come home on Saturday and Sunday. Right away he says....."WELL I"M GOING TO MY DADDY'S FOR CHRISTMAS." -----O.M.G. You have no money, no future, you bring a puppy home, no money for her food or care, ....no drivers license....I get you a job --you moan and whine......and now you want a vacation?

SLAP ME.......

So last night I'm working on the Card list in my office and he comes in and says "So when am I getting a bedroom?" I said "You're not." (Thinking back to the days when he screamed at me in the school hall I WILL GO LIVE ANYWHERE BUT HOME) Then he said sorta in a disgusted tone "OH well then I guess I will have to move out."

YA THINK? WOW.....talk about an epiphany. REALLY? MOVE OUT HUH?
What a sense of entitlement. I'll tell you what. This IS the Christmas story unfolding before your very eyes here. There is no room at the inn. He's riding MY .....well you know.....and the way he behaves it's almost like it's going to be HIS birthday on the 25th.

With that said? There is NO WAY I will ever give up my office.....and now I will for sure NOT be putting up a Christmas tree in the living room. NO WAY.....NO WAY.....NO WAY.

I consider this an Ah HHaaaaaaa moment. "I guess I will have to move out."

Gosh, going for that Rhodes scholar thing a bit premature aren't you? Take an umbrella I hear Oxford is overcast quite a bit.

(I may be on to something) .......COUCHES ALL AROUND!!!!!

 

[Suz]

Yeah, they are full of a lot of talk and very little action, I've found.

Star, this is the first I've heard of you ever being a boxer. Tell us about it. When? How long? Amateur or professional?

Suz

 

[Star*]

I've mentioned this before.

My Father (Pop) was a Golden Gloves boxer when he was in the Army. If you ask my Mom? I was a ballerina, majorette, swimmer, gymnast, equestrian rider, - and never ever boxed. lol. I'm also a fair football player. My Dad never got his boy. He got a girl twice as tough. I'm the pretty one.

When I started I was basically backyard trained, heavy bag, speed bag, loads of running, footwork, and local YMCA. Of course back in the late 70's and early 80's it really wasn't something for girls or young ladies to do and finding a sparing partner was usually a man who didn't take you seriously. They didn't take you seriously until your Dad said, "Stop messing around and knock him out."

I also lifted weights and trained to be a professional body builder much to my Dad's dismay. I had huge arms, flat chest, enormous thighs, and tiny waist, but got hit by a drunk and never got to go to the the first show. It was the first of seven times I would be hit by drunk drivers. At the time I was hit? I was 18, weighed 119 lbs, and benching 215 lbs. Not bad for a girl. Instead of winning a tropy I spent time in the hospital and learned how to walk again. That also ended most of my boxing potential. My neck and back now look like a jigsaw puzzle.

But most of the time I got to spar with my Pop, or at the Y....occasionally another girl would have a little training or some skill and we'd get to go a few rounds. That's about the only time that I ever really got to have what I would call a fair fight. Girls don't pull punches. They're also more vicious and mean. The other thing is - they don't stop. Men fight, they hit, they go to their corners, it's over. Women? You hit a woman and it's on. You go to your corner,and it's not over. We don't shut off or something. Makes for bad boxers if you ask me. Good for ticket sales - bad for trying to get home in the parking lot. Anyone who's ever seen women fight will tell you that. Even disciplined women like boxers? It's still a struggle.

Then later in life I went back to working out and running....ended up doing some self defense. Helped when I did bartending. Then life happens....and well it's not really a skill you can use when you weigh 280 lbs, but it is a skill that you carry with you when you are scared, or defensive.

Unfortunately it didn't help me much against a husband two and 1/2 times my size, who like to beat on me. The one time I did flip and reach out and touch him? I blacked his eye, flipped him over the dining room table, out the back door, and nearly knocked him out. After that? I didn't get beat on for about six months. The mystery in all of it I suppose to anyone is how you can be so tough most of your life and let a gorilla pound you into the ground. The answer for me was when your self esteem is whittled away and you feel worthless over and over every day you loose your fight, you figure you're not worth defending, even for yourself, and you do little to nothing but take what you get from someone who professed to love you." It was very confusing. I know that part of my life won't happen again, and I know I won't box again.....but it's nice to think back about the times I spent with my Pop.

It's fun when Dudes friends come around and he says "My Mom knows how to fight/box." and tells them to square off with me and they say "Oh I dont want to hurt you." Then I just stand there and say "Well lets see whatcha got." and they hold their stance, and it's all wrong and you teach them why it's wrong and then they argue and you demonstrate to them WHY it's wrong or how you can get to them by their guard being down, and it just amazes them that someone as "old" as me can move that fast. lol. Then it becomes a training session and that's the fun of it for me anymore. Not the gore (although I love to watch real boxing, not cage matches), they go away with knowledge. I feel like Pop's right there.

The neatest thing too - we were going through some of my Gmas stuff years after she passed away, and in a suitcase full of photographs from the 1920's or 1930's there in a NY night club was a picture of her and Knute Rockne having drinks. Now that would have been something huh? Having Knute for a G'pa? (I'm adopted so it wouldn't have mattered anyway) but wow.

Thanks for asking MimiSuz....

Hope Rob is doing well today and Mommie Heather too.

 

[jbrain]

Wow, Star!!! I didn't know any of this either! I'm so impressed! Also, thanks for the explanation of why you stayed with an abusive husband. I have had trouble understanding why my fiesty difficult child 1 would have been involved with her boyfriend and your explanation helps me understand it better.

You are incredible!

Jane

 

[Suz]

Well, I must have missed the other post(s) about it.

You've been hit by drunk drivers seven times? Where are you walking, girl friend?

Suz

 

[GoingNorth]

husband and I got hit by seven DWIs as well. In only one case were we actually moving! In all the other cases we either got hit from behind or t-boned.

husband got hit once head-on by a drunk on a very busy street while leaving work late at night.

I happened to be on the same road and saw the car--husband had already been taken to the hospital. I flipped. It was such a wreck that I figured he was dead or maimed for life.

Somehow, he had managed to crawl out through the back window of our car, turn off the ignition in the other car, and haul the comatose driver out of that car...just as it caught fire.

He came out of it with a dislocated shoulder, a cracked kneecap, and yet another broken nose. Plus a lot of cuts and bruises

 

[DammitJanet]

Ya know star...there are a few times when Dude does take things even farther than ory has. This is one of them. Cory and Mandy lived on my living room couches for 1-over a year...or more...before they moved out because I got rid of the bed. They didnt argue. For a time they had an air mattress but it died and they just slept on the sofa's. They were just happy to have a roof. Well...I guess they were.

 

[donna723]

Wow, Star! You should be writing a book!

 

[ML]

I feel your reality.

You were the one I always had as a friend through school. Being 5 feet 1" and rather mouthy I needed backup. I love you girl.

 

[Hound dog]

Star, I decided that some of us have big fat red targets (that only others can see) stamped to us. lol

Travis came home dismayed because his room wasn't completely cleaned up yet cuz I ran out of time before school started and that his bed was leaning up against a wall. husband was waiting for someone other than me to help him get it downstairs and into the trash.

But he had been in the car less than 30 seconds before I spelled out the house rules. NO smoking in his bedroom. NO food/drink in his bedroom. PERIOD. Or else husband would be driving him right back to his apartment at school.

I've not had a problem. He's grateful he no longer has to stand in the weather and cold to smoke. lol And for his home cooked meals.

BUT I have a place to put him if he can't follow rules too.

Still, I'll say this is why Nichole's "bedroom" is now my livingroom. (according to original house plans) Sends a very loud clear message that they are grown up and no longer going to be a kid under your roof.

Heck, even when K came to live with us she had to sleep on the couch. No way was I making one of my underage kids give up a bed to a grown kid who should've had her act together.

I thank my lucky stars for the wisdom of my grandmother. I'm using it almost on a daily basis now.

I think Dude is only capable of appreciating you and what you do for him when he is not living there with you. When he's home he just does his best to fall into old roles, even when you're not playing anymore.

(hugs)

 

[katya02]

Hugs, Star.
Couches all round ... I agree! If my difficult child moved back in he'd be back into old behavior patterns in a heartbeat. I hate to think about it. Luckily he's convinced that it's intolerable to live here and he'd rather think of himself as having nowhere to go than think of coming back. Well, that works for my PTSD.

They only seem to learn when they make the mistakes and hurt themselves. Sigh.

 

[jbrain]

I am afraid my difficult child 1 would fall into her old role too if she lived with me. She would probably be wonderful for about 3 or 4 days and then we'd be back to same old, same old. We do just fine living a long distance from each other.
Hugs to you,
Jane

 

[Star*]

The drunk drivers have all hit me....while I was driving my cars. The first time I had just dropped my Mom off and 2 guys from Ohio State hit me so hard with my foot on the brake of my car shot me through a stop light and the distance of 4 house before they careened off and went between a guide wire & utility pole (how both lived is a mystery). They crawled over the back seat and out the back windows...stumbled out of the car, and walked away to be picked up by police later. My trunk and tail lights were less than a foot behind my head rest. It looked like my car had gone 1/2 way into a compactor.

There were other drunk accidents but the worst one I was in I was hit by a man driving a pick up truck towing a Uhaul trailer. I was 3 weeks pregnant with dude (no idea). The fire dept. had to use those jaws of life to cut me out of the truck and the entire right side of my Pinto station wagon was sitting on my lap. You could see the entire axle front and rear. Police couldn't believe I was in there alive and coherent. I was just angry they couldn't get me out so I could give the other drive a piece of my mind. The State Highway asked to take my picture for their Saved by the Belt campaign later; never used it - but had our picture taken for it.

None of the accidents I was in did I ever get any big money. None. I also have been hit 2 more times by just plain old fender benders, only had to be cut out of one more car....total of 9 accidents. (knock wood) I'm a VERY defensive driver.

I guess it's genetic - Dude's rolled down the hill in a truck at that Group home from Hades, and then got hit by a car (same group home) while riding his bike. He's not rich either, never sued.

If nothing else? We're resilient.

If I wrote a book about the stuff that's happened in my life? It would be published as science fiction. You really wouldn't believe it. I lived it and can't believe I survived. lol.

Thanks for the nice compliments.

 

[Nomad]

What was the name of the movie where the guy said
"I'm mad as ____ and I'm not going to take this anymore!"
Well, repeat that 10x.
And let's get metaphysical.
I would open the window and say the above statement and add to it....and no drunk driver is ever, ever, ever going to hit me or my car AGAIN! Amen!

Agree...couches all around. No more drama trauma for you momma. Don't make it sooooo nice for junior to live at your place forever. However, make it real nice for YOU to live there. It's your house, your life and you deserve it big time and my guess is that junior has got A LOT more energy than you....enjoy yourself woman (don't make me slap ya!!!) Have fun, or else!

 

[Suz]

Nomad, the movie was "Network." Here's a link.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074958/

Suz

 

[trinityroyal]

Couches all round!

Yes, I agree with this sentiment as well. Especially since I'm in the midst of cleaning out my beautiful home office with the picture window so that it can be made into difficult child's bedroom/guest room.

husband feels very strongly that difficult child should have a bedroom here. Since I've laid down the law that all difficult child visits are tightly controlled and at my whim, and that difficult child is only allowed to sleep over twice a year (Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve), I didn't have the heart to say no to husband about that request. So I'm moving my office to the basement (sigh).

Star, there's no reason in the world that you have to put up with that from Dude. Honestly, I think that one of the greatest gifts we can give to our children is to let them grow and not regress to earlier, less...um...evolved behaviour. If that means limiting the time they spend at home, and not making it comfortable for them, then so be it.

Sending hugs, and all sorts of kind words that you can use to deflect any vitriol that's aimed at you.

Trinity