Bitch Mom

Tonight, I unveiled the new Mommy Me... Bitch Mom. At least in Leigh’s eyes. She didn’t want to play nicely with others (i.e. make her room stop smelling badly and looking like a homeless man’s dumpster), so I told her to stay in her room while I was gone. And left. With the three other daughters.

She is fifteen, and I am tired of my life—of all our lives—playing second fiddle to her mental illnesses. Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Anxiety, Depression, Self-Mutilation, General Pain in the Ass Refuses to Do Anything She’s Asked or Be Nice to Anyone Syndrome.

She is so angry, with every breath it just oozes off of her, and I wonder when she’ll snap. She lies, with every word she speaks. And I'm tired of all of it.

So now, the answer is NO. To everything.

No. No. No.

No.

No, you may not _____, until you have _____. No ifs, no ands, no buts, no negations, NOTHING. Until you can be nice, feel free to stay in your smelly room. Feel free to sleep 24-7. Feel free to wear the same clothes day in and day out, and not bathe. But until you no longer smell like unwashed hooker clothes and look homeless, you will not get in my car to go anywhere with me.

I will not fight you about the cigarettes, alcohol and weed you sneak every chance you get. But if you indulge these on my property, by GodAllahBuddha, your probation officer will be called, as will the local PD and they will haul your ungrateful, ever-expanding ass to juvie.

I don’t care that I can’t have you committed anywhere. I don’t care that you aren’t suicidal or homicidal enough to get the damned insurance company to pay attention—eventually, mental illness or not, you have to make a decision.

YOU have to decide if you want a life, if you want to do more than just live. Or not. And nothing I do or don’t do will fix that. I will continue to lay out your meds in the morning. I will continue to buy food. I will continue to make sure you wake up to get on a bus. I will continue to love you no matter what. But I have learned that I don’t have to like you. And I don’t remember the last time I really liked you.

But from now on, if you want something, the answer is no, unless you meet my terms. I don’t care how crazy you are, it will be my way.

Because I AM the mom, and I’m in charge, damn it, whether you like it or not. And if you don’t?  Oh well. You’ve survived worse.

And I can lock my bedroom door.

An introduction

So here I am. 
Waiting for inspiration.
Or like the kid on "The Incredibles" for something amazing.

In the meantime, let me introduce us. 

I am Mom.  Wife.  Teacher.  Unofficial social worker.  Unlicensed, smart-ass therapist.  Writer-wannabe. 

The other players in this silliness are as follows:

Hubby--Husband.  The tall bald guy, and a big cup of awesome sauce.

Marie-- Oldest daughter. Age 23.  Mother of Grandson. Married to JC. We never officially adopted her, because she aged out of foster care when her younger sister moved in with us. However, the only thing missing is the paperwork.

Dawn-- Next daughter. Age 18.  Bio sister to Marie.   We got her when she was 12, and she is currently surfing other people's sofas because mom and dad won't let her shack up at home with her Dumbass Boyfriend.  She just got a job as a waitress.  It's been two whole days and she's kept it, so we'll see how that goes.

Danae--Next daughter.  Age 16. Cheerleader, artist, wants to be a doctor.  Generally, a smart kid with a HUMONGOGINORMOUS attitude. But then, after 18 different placements, I think she's earned the right to be pissy from time to time.

Leigh-- Next daughter. Biosister to BB. Age 15.  We're her tenth set of parents, and we got her when she was six.  She is a self described freak, who cuts, cusses, and generally carries on as much as possible without visiting the Gray Bar Hotel.   She attends a "special school" for people who have problems behaving in regular school, has a probation officer and a standing appointment with juvenile court every three weeks. However, she too is very smart and a talented artist.

Momo-- 18 month old foster baby.  Cute as a baby penguin and about as coordinated. She has eyelashes that could start a small supermodel riot, and the most engaging smile I've ever seen.

NaNa- 9 week old foster baby.  Just learned how to smile this week. 

And in that mix of beauty, brains and general mayhem, we have two half-mexicans, two mostly black, one mutt of unknown origin and one who claims to be a quarter black. As for the parents, we're very white, and mostly look nothing like our kids.  We have fun with that sometimes.

Mixed in there also are several cases of Reactive Attachment Disorder, PTSD, a sprinkling of bipolar, the possibility of borderline personality and some galloping cases of depression, self-mutilation and anxiety.  Needless to say, life is never boring. 

So here we are ...  our little, made-from-scratch-trying-to-be-happy family. 

I think I've found my amazing. 
How about you?
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Some things I'll post here will be daily doses of the craziness that is my life. Others will be random stuff I've written in response to my life-- some old, some new. 

Enjoy the popcorn, prop up your feet.  It's an interesting show.