I should start keeping a diary of my last days with my son living in my house. It might better help me to understand why we have the relationship I think we may end up having one day if I can go back and see all the ways that he slowly and methodically hacked away at the trust between he and I.
For awhile now he's been complaining about his lega hurting him and from the very start I asked him was he sleeping on the couch in his room. He swore to me no, he wasn't. Even though I could see the pillow and the blanket on the couch. I told him whatever and told him his let's hurt because he was sleeping on the couch. He needed to sleep on his bed. So now weeks have gone by and his legs still hurt. I was starting to get worried because as I could see he was actually sleeping in his bed.
Or so I thought. I went up this morning because we are still battling the not showering thing and there he was asleep on the couch.
I am nearing the end of my rope with him. Randy keeps saying that we'll see how this year goes and maybe he'll come back but honestly, I don't want him back. I don't want my own son back in my house once I am rid of him. I have this feeling that once he's out things are going to run soo much smoother that I may be able to find a mental foothold and make the tv in my head stop.
So now he's in the shower and the girls are doing recon in his room and pulling stuff out. At the moment they have county thirty if the missing cups in there some with juice. Potato chip bags and soda cans and bowls.
They also found ten dollars. I asked him where this came from he said people at school pay him for things like going to get stuff for them like pencils from another room. Either he's someone's bitch or there's more to this story. I'm betting its the latter. One more month...
This is the saddest part if all this has become my new mantra. One more freaking month.
