Ever had one of those days where you wanna drop-kick anybody who even looks like they’re thinking about saying something stupid? That was my day today.
My 16 year old son (CS) made his final court appearance today. He and his father got in a fist fight in May. I swear, when those two are around each other, it’s like watching two teenage boys fighting for the right to be called the Alpha Male. Daddy acts like a petty child and CS gets too big for his britches and starts pokin’ fun of Daddy’s manhood. It ain’t pretty.
I seem to have better control over my teenagers than their father does. I give ‘em the “I ain’t even playin’ with you” stare and they back down very quickly. I think I have that ability because I’ve always been the consistent disciplinarian – poppin’ their diapered asses anytime they threw a fit in the grocery store, commanding respect at every turn, and locking them out of the house when they miss curfew. When you’re a single woman raising two boys you have to make sure they know you’re both the Alpha Male and the Alpha Female in your home.
Anyway, while we were waiting to see the judge, there was a woman sitting next to me crying uncontrollably. I don’t know what her kid did, but my gawd he deserves an ass-whoopin’ for makin’ his Mama cry like that. I couldn’t stand watching her cry, but I completely understood her frustration. Kids will drive you to drinkin’. I know they will; I drink a lot.
And if the cryin’ Mama next to me wasn’t enough, my exhusband showed up with his bitch ass wife. They’re a pretty sad couple actually. He’s a materialistic jerk who will do anything you want him to do for a new pair of expensive shoes and she’s an insecure twit who mistakenly believes I am her competition. A word of advice to all new wives: if your husband’s exwife is a lesbian, she’s not the competition.
Step-mommy got upset because the judge wouldn’t allow her in the court room. She mistakenly believes that people actually give a shit about her opinion. She stormed off bitchin’ and whinin’. If I wasn’t busy pretending to be a nice person (in front of the judge, you know how that is), I would’ve yelled after her that she needed her own kids if she wants to be a mommy. She’s childless and doesn’t want to give birth to kids because she doesn’t want to get fat. I.shit.you.not. Hey, that’s her business. But, if she wants substitute kids, she can’t have mine.
Anyway, we got home and CS asked if he could stay out 1 hour past curfew tonight. I looked at him like he had a serious psychological issue. He said, “There’s no curfew in my probation rules.” I said, “No, but there is a rule that says you have to follow my rules here at home.” CS got lippy and I made his curfew 1 hour earlier than usual. “Don’t even mess with me tonight,” I told him.
I logged into Twitter and I saw several mommy bloggers complaining about the challenges of potty training. Those were the good ol’ days of parenting. All I had to worry about was dirty diapers, baby spit-up on my good sweater, and keeping them from eating everything they found on the floor.
Rest up, mommy bloggers. You’ll need all your strength once your precious little talking piece hits puberty. Good luck with that!