I once had a friend tell me that teenage boys, "get those hormones going, and then they stay f#*ked up in the head until they start to get laid." At the time I thought it was a rather offensive statement, but I didn't entirely write it off since it was coming from a former teen boy. Actually, I still think it's an offensive statement but, would consider flying my teenager to Amsterdam to get high and get laid, if it meant that the child returning would somewhat resemble the one I gave birth to. Yep. I might just be *that* desperate.
My daughter texted me a link last night, it was along the lines of: WorldWideWeb.militaryschoolinformationfortroubledteens.edu
I guess I'm not the only one fed up with him. It can't all be in my head. Not if my daughter is researching potential boarding schools where we might deposit her older sibling. This thing is serious. This kid is killing me, and if that sounds like an exaggeration, he is in fact, torturing me into insanity. I mean, what mother sets her alarm to take her Xanax 45 minutes before her son's alarm is set to go off? Me. Clearly the answer is me, but, why should this be?
I tell people in stores in public places that he has Tourette's. That way they will excuse him and hopefully my clearly inadequate way of dealing with him. What does one say when their son utters a four letter word, or several of them strung together with as much hate as possible? I say nothing. I ignore him. I continue my shopping, placing my eggs carefully into my cart while I give curious onlookers a small sigh and an apologetic smile, "He has Tourette's," I say. What else can I do? I can't scream like a fish wife, or bend my six foot tall son over my knee. So? what do I do?
I take away his Xbox...he punches holes in my walls. I take away his cell phone...he goes after his little brother with a two by four. He controls the house. We tiptoe around him. We pray for him to sleep. We luxuriate in his absences. We have given up. We feel like we've tried everything legal to help him...to help us. So, what do we do? We have another 3 years, 8 months, and 14 days until he turns 18...not that we are counting of course.
Maybe my daughter has the right idea. Maybe military school is a good plan.