Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Love Means Never Having to Say...

Youngest wrote this note to me last night. On an unlined notepad piece of paper, he drew "straight" lines and wrote: I aM Saree. PS I LOVE YOU. They call this "sound spelling" in kindergarten. I asked him what he was sorry for, and he said, "I'm sorry they robbed us."
Who's Sorry Now?

We all are, that's for sure. Mostly, though, I'm pissed. [Sorry, Mom, I know how much you hate that word. When I was a teenager and young adult, she cringed whenever I said it. I switched to "p-o'ed" in front of her, but she still cringed. She knew what I meant. She knows now, of course, that I curse a blue streak. I still think "pissed" is her least favorite of the words I use.]


It turns out it was a lot worse than we were first led to believe. Any sympathy or kindness I would have extended toward Saundra evaporated when more of the story came out. Turns out there were a dozen (or more) kids here the first night. "Only" four others the second night. Among the visitors the second night? Kids with police records. Kids on probation. They were also there the first night.


I was interviewed by the police today, having called in to report the crime. It looks like the cop will be exerting quite a bit of pressure on the two sluts druggies stupid mother-effin' girls and the "nice, sweet" boy on probation. Ideally, the juvie has a clause in his probation terms which allow police searches without a warrant. Go juvenile justice system!


I've done quite a bit of sleuthing on it, tracking down photos and the like on MySpace. Hint to my own children: Make sure you make your account private. Real hint to my children: You'd better give me your passwords or I'll kick your asses.


There are moments of humor 'cause I am, you know, me. When the two sluts druggies stupid mother-effin' girls and their parents came over last night, I said to the adults, "Can I get you anything to drink? I'd offer you a beer, but they drank it all." Hee hee hee.


To my two boys and later to Daughter, I said, "If you ever have a party in our house without a parent present, I will not pay for your college education." Daughter's reaction, "I'm only 9, Mom, how can I remember that?" I told her I'd mark it on the calendar and tell her every month. [Those of you thinking she was being sassy don't know that sweet kid.] The punchline to all of it? The hell with saving for their college education. Pete and I want matching Ferraris. If a GED was good enough for me, it should be good enough for my children.


We were supposed to go out, the two said parents, to a friend's house for dinner Saturday night. In addition to lacking a babysitter -- har har har -- the kids are too freaked to be left at night. That is not merely transference on my part. We have tried to keep a lot of it from them, but they get that our house was compromised. And who's to say it won't happen again? Who, indeed.


Two final thoughts on this. First, I want to get even with these people. I want to call each parent and describe the scene for them. Drugs, alcohol, sex in my children's beds, stealing. I want to do more, too. Key their cars. Slash their tires. Call their cells and home numbers in the middle of the night. Blah, blah, blah. Sadly, I'm supposed to be an adult. Juveniles can get away with that shit. I'm supposed to show restraint.


Second, I had a hard time praying last night, with a blackened heart. "As we forgive those who trespass against us." That's a tough one.

Rides to Heaven on a Gyroscope

A couple of months ago, I saw a client I hadn't seen for a number of months. Like more than a dozen people have in the recent past, she ...