Sometimes I write this blog simply to vent, to clear my mind, to work out what I'm feeling. Sometimes - like this post - it's to record something that happened, to remember the good things that come from it.
July was an absolute shocker of a month.
First up, and mostly, I picked up Morgen after school (like I do Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday's, after dropping him off 2 hours earlier) and he informed me that I stole his bliss.
"Hmmm," said the woman on the receiving end of his accusation.
"You stole my bliss and I will never get it back - it's your fault I'm not at the U with my friends."
Nothing new there, I thought.
"So can you tell me more about why you feel that way?" I asked.
"Well, if you hadn't called on me I would still have my license. I would still be able to see my friends and I would be able to go to the U instead of SLCC" (a weird term which actually means taking required general education classes for less money at the community college BEFORE he gets to transfer to a university, as opposed to putting him in the dorms on my hourly wage) "then I wouldn't have to wait for you to come pick me up and then...."
"So it's my fault? Without a doubt?"
"Yes," said his voice. "And, uh, the thing is, in terms of my professor that went to NYU, since you stole my bliss I will never get it back."
never.
Never.
NEVER.
I finished the drive with the - it must be said - very thoughtful and articulate teenage boy, and upon dropping him off to his girlfriends house, contemplated physical assault.
I screamed when I came home, scaring Molly, and stalked through the house.
Fury. No other word for it. Furious at the boy who would so obviously not take responsibility for his own actions. Furious at yet another example of his agency. Fury at being so powerless, so financially dependent, so determined to do the right thing for, with and by my sons.
I was so full of fury and vengeance I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I had known how to debate, I would have gone there. And there would have been much debate to be beaten out. I didn't have him arrested. My arms ached with the overwhelming urge to pinch him, to cause just a tithe of the pain he's inflicted on his brothers, and on me.
The next day, the violent tendencies still raised their fists, but I was slogging through the realities of working out how I was literally going to apologize. How I would tell him I'm sorry for taking away something so precious from him. In terms of not knowing how that works, in this instance ignorance definitely was a blessing.
I also decided, finally, that I would tell the younger boys what was actually going on, and to whom the crap belonged. I wouldn't cover with generalities, or by not attributing blame. The boys are old enough to know the realities of breaking laws, of actions and consequences, and I wasn't going to take responsibility for this disaster-in-the-making. Just as this blog will one day be read by my boys when they are old enough to know the details, Morgen not keeping illegal substances out of our house was something they should know, which was a decision also recommended and supported by a friend who'd been messaging me in the middle of her very busy day - thanks A!
Then I realized when it was time to collect the boys after I got home from school that I hadn’t prepared a thing for dinner, so now I had to go into a BUILDING with other HUMANS and be all RESPONSIBLE for the most important creatures in my world. Good times. Went into Walmart with Marko, who helped by deciding we needed garlic bread for dinner, and ice-cream to follow. And a chocolate-milk to have while we waited to check out. (That I went along with this nutritional void indicates my distress and carb-loading reaction).
So, to what happened when I told the boys about the latest failure on my part. First, for Marko's response, some background. Markus still delights in throwing pertinent movie quotes into conversation, and we both love watching movies together. We've been going through some of our old movies (in this case specifically, Nacho Libre).
So then while we waited for Morg, I broached the topic with Marko.
Me: So, you know Morgen has been mad at me. It’s because he says I stole his bliss.
Marko: What, Morgen said you did?
Me: Yep, that's what he said.
Marko: Oh, because you made him look like a fool last night.
Which was stated quite calmly and matter of fact. He checked me quickly for a reaction but I didn’t have one. At least, not externally.
Me: Yep.
So then I explained in general terms how I thought the next couple of weeks would go in terms of my workload and school work, really busy with work and school, painfully tight with money.
Him: Well, as long as you pay tithing, it’ll all work out.
I let him think about it for a bit. Normally this is really difficult for me to do, but I had my own thoughts galloping around. At the realization that the first thing Markus thought of was a Nacho quote. That he was so confident and assured that tithing was the solution, and came instantly to his mind. That he accepted the new proof of stupidity, and also felt comfortable enough to share exactly - and cuttingly clear - what he thought of Morgen.
Eventually... Me: Any thoughts about any of it?
Him: Yeah, for him. He is a fool. That's pretty much it.
He grinned, not even looking at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Me: Yep, it sure is.
Fast forward about an hour, when I’m driving Max to his summer high school game, who shrugged casually and said “Sure, I’ll make breakfast and do stuff while you’re working. And I need to get a job.”
I think my heart stopped beating - there was a definite moment of absolute silence in my chest. I sucked a breath in, restarted my pulse, and told him by all means he should get a job, but with the focus being for his hockey, not for anything else. “Yeah I know” he said, but I could see the gears turning. Twerp.
I explain to Max that Morgen has been blaming me for losing his license and that he probably won’t get it back until March.
Him: Ugh, he’s such an IDIOT!
Him: WHY would he do that?
Me: Because he’s a mad at me.
He rubs my arm and says: But it's not your fault.
Me: It kind of is. I did tell on him.
Him: Yep.
Him: I love you Mom.
My heart is hating me by this stage, all this emotion and thumping adrenalin and affection. Stupid heart.
