This has nothing to do with anything:: not my recent Vancouver trip or the post that was already scheduled to appear here. It is just TOTALLY relevant at this exact moment, so I am going to share - and as the spirit moves me, over-share. Brace thy-self.
This is an un-Vancouver tale. Last night there was an outburst within the Shenanigan home that I cannot even bring myself to detail. Suffice it to say: 1. ugly. 2. 21 yr old vs 13 yr old bullying that has Coach and I at our wits end. 3. Same old, same old. Lad cannot 'own' his behavior. Heavy, frustrated sigh.
The rest of the clan receives high marks for being considerate and thoughtful, and - well, um - accountable. It has always escaped us that we parent them all the same, but one struggles immensely to navigate a world with other people in it.
This is not just a teenage ordeal (dear God, he just turned 21 - but maturity level has yet to catch up to his age). It also has nothing to do with being re-introduced to family life after being away at college. It reaches far beyond dirty socks and missed curfews. The kid is plagued by a version of reality that no one else sees. It is baffling, and at this point very concerning.
Coach and I were not feeling like we were on the same page after last night's drama (and that, my friends is putting it mildly) so he just took me out to a steak dinner to circle our wagons and regroup. We drew up a contract for Lad. He complies or his phone is cancelled. The end.
While I did scarf down that filet (we do NOT eat out often), I admit that I was opposed to the shared meal. I was still hurt about how things were handled not only last night, but all summer. Imagine me as Sipowicz on NYPD Blue requesting backup REPEATEDLY and instead crickets. My hands were tied.
I swear, I cannot be bought -but there is something about filet. Cooked just right. I digress. We are back on the united front here, and we are hoping for better results.
Anyway, I entered the house to fiddle music. On steroids. I gathered caddy towels to wash because we are in the middle of the club championship. 27 holes today and another 18 tomorrow. A load of smelly green caddy shirts sits waiting for the towels to be done. I returned to the kitchen and thought I heard Mini sniffling. Oh, brother (and I mean this literally - as in, not her brother-easily could have been him considering the current climate - but no - my brother . . . more later - sorry)