Dad - vacuum the living room
El Chupacobra - Y?
Dad - people vacuum to remove dirt from their living space
El Chupacobra - I don't live there
Dad - then I don't want to see you watching my TV, ever
El Chupacobra - that's not living
Dad - good then it won't be a hardship
El Chupacobra - Muh.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
So we’re board – Oh I know, lets burn ourselves with red hot coals.
Once again I am back here trying to figure out WTF is going on with my son. He had a weekend “Home” except I only say him for about 20 minutes when he changed clothes on Sunday afternoon. He took off after school on Friday and was going to hang out with a few of his friends. He hung out with some friends on Friday night. He returned on Saturday to get $7 to go to the drive-in and then disappeared. I didn’t see him again until Sunday afternoon when he changed cloths and went right back out again.
Again this is not really a problem. He was “checking in” and told some good stories about where he was going to be. Accept that it was a total lie – but once again I am getting ahead of myself.
Sunday night came around and he called and said he was in another town and asked to stay the night. He had a ride to school in the morning. OK, I am lazy and don’t want to get dressed and drive around for hours trying to find him and pick him up. He is so “directionally challenged” that he could not give a Titan directions on how to get out of a paper bag. So I acquiesced to his request and was planning to go to be.
The door opens and he comes rolling in. He says hi, but goes directly to his room, even when I directly asked him to come down and talk for a minute. This is a huge indicator that he was under the influence. Which I pretty much assumed when he called about staying the night [Sunday], but began to doubt when he came home.
Well this is the same night that El Chupacobra ended up hanging from his heals by a cable attached to my roof. Needless to say my wonderful loving wife and I were already a little busy. So in waltz my son. I wanted to talk to him and thought the story about Mr. Chupacobra would be a great thing to impart. He didn’t want to talk he disappeared into his room and closed the door. OK so he was on a weekend long bender!
Not but 10 minute passed and my beautiful wife and I are discussing the probability that my son is drunk or high or whatever and he comes back down to the living room to talk about the hanged man, but here he is in just his boxer shorts. Mouse out of the house – you know what I mean!
Well, we concluded that he was pretty messed up. He adamantly denied taking anything that would impair his judgment and stormed off to bed. He does make a nice show of being insulted when he is accused of something. He is generally SO guilty that its funny, but the act tends to make you doubt yourself. So off to bed he went and the evening finally quieted down.
So Monday just after noon, we get a call from the school. This is nearly ritual as my son is constantly calling to come home and dodge school. If it’s not for a pooping break it’s because he is going to throw up. If it’s not for health reasons he can dream up ten million other stupid accuses. This call was very interesting.
He told me that he had a burn on his arm and it didn’t look too good. I asked for more information and was told this story: “On Saturday night [you remember he got money to go to the drive-in] he was at a bon-fire and SOMEHOW he got stabbed with a poker stick from the fire.”
I asked, “So you have a burn and a puncture wound?”
“Yes, and it does not look good.” he said.
I then asked, “Well tell me about it.” I was asking about the wound, but he thought I wanted to know about the accident [all in due time].
“Some kid was screwing around and I got stabbed with the fire poking stick. It was just an acedent.”
“Oh, I meant tell me about the burn-wound.”
“Its really nasty. Its black in the center of both burns and pretty deep. I tried to wash it out but it looks bad.” He told me with this ‘it happens to everybody’ kind of tone. And of course he wanted to come home.
At this point I was trying hard not to both chew his ass out or laugh mine off. Here he has been running around for 48 hours with a “blackened” burn and puncture wound, and only now does it come up. He never even mentioned a wound till this point. I figured that either he was so smashed that only now is it starting to hurt OR he was just using it to get to come home. Turns out it was all of the first and none of the later.
Well I am at class and my loving and wonderful wife, who is a nurse, get to see the wound. She immediately puts him in the car and takes him to urgent care. When she let me know what the plan was I was a little freaked. At any rate the doctor says that both burns are close to 3rd degree in the center, but because he has feeling throughout most of the wound they will call it a 2nd degree burn. He is given cleaning and maintenance instructions and sent home.
So life goes on. My son goes off to school today and wouldn’t you know it he calls just a little after noon and says that the burn is turning green and a red line is going up his arm. We are to rush over and take him straight to the doctor. Again, dad the hard-ass, says sit in your classes and we will deal with it later.
The truth is he has missed so many days of school this year that we are in danger of being called to court to account for his absences. I am not in the slightest sympathetic to his “just after noon” calls to get out of school.
I am now back at school. I had to take El Chupacobra to work so I came straight here and was going to study. On the way I called the house three times to try and talk with my son. He finally calls me at 4:45 and asks where I am and why I am not at home to take him to the doctor. Again, how problematic can these wounds be [as there are indeed two distinct burns/punctures] that he spends 1 ¾ hours after school doing God know what before he wants to go to the doctor?
I told him we will look at it tonight and he could go into the doctor tomorrow.
I further asked him to explain how it happened. I got very vague answers about an accident with someone swinging a stick. Interestingly enough I ran into the host of this little bon-fire and he has exactly the same burn. I mean to say that he has it in exactly the same spot and it’s the same shape. To me this says it was self inflicted!!!!!!! You decide.
Well I asked him how it happened to the host and he screamed at me it was an accident and hung up the phone. When I asked the host about it he told me he didn’t remember anything. His memory was really bad and he had no idea what happened.
BULL SHIT – SIX FEET DEEP – BULL SHIT!
How blazed do you have to be in self-inflict a pair of nasty burns?
This is why I am always so crazy!
Again this is not really a problem. He was “checking in” and told some good stories about where he was going to be. Accept that it was a total lie – but once again I am getting ahead of myself.
Sunday night came around and he called and said he was in another town and asked to stay the night. He had a ride to school in the morning. OK, I am lazy and don’t want to get dressed and drive around for hours trying to find him and pick him up. He is so “directionally challenged” that he could not give a Titan directions on how to get out of a paper bag. So I acquiesced to his request and was planning to go to be.
The door opens and he comes rolling in. He says hi, but goes directly to his room, even when I directly asked him to come down and talk for a minute. This is a huge indicator that he was under the influence. Which I pretty much assumed when he called about staying the night [Sunday], but began to doubt when he came home.
Well this is the same night that El Chupacobra ended up hanging from his heals by a cable attached to my roof. Needless to say my wonderful loving wife and I were already a little busy. So in waltz my son. I wanted to talk to him and thought the story about Mr. Chupacobra would be a great thing to impart. He didn’t want to talk he disappeared into his room and closed the door. OK so he was on a weekend long bender!
Not but 10 minute passed and my beautiful wife and I are discussing the probability that my son is drunk or high or whatever and he comes back down to the living room to talk about the hanged man, but here he is in just his boxer shorts. Mouse out of the house – you know what I mean!
Well, we concluded that he was pretty messed up. He adamantly denied taking anything that would impair his judgment and stormed off to bed. He does make a nice show of being insulted when he is accused of something. He is generally SO guilty that its funny, but the act tends to make you doubt yourself. So off to bed he went and the evening finally quieted down.
So Monday just after noon, we get a call from the school. This is nearly ritual as my son is constantly calling to come home and dodge school. If it’s not for a pooping break it’s because he is going to throw up. If it’s not for health reasons he can dream up ten million other stupid accuses. This call was very interesting.
He told me that he had a burn on his arm and it didn’t look too good. I asked for more information and was told this story: “On Saturday night [you remember he got money to go to the drive-in] he was at a bon-fire and SOMEHOW he got stabbed with a poker stick from the fire.”
I asked, “So you have a burn and a puncture wound?”
“Yes, and it does not look good.” he said.
I then asked, “Well tell me about it.” I was asking about the wound, but he thought I wanted to know about the accident [all in due time].
“Some kid was screwing around and I got stabbed with the fire poking stick. It was just an acedent.”
“Oh, I meant tell me about the burn-wound.”
“Its really nasty. Its black in the center of both burns and pretty deep. I tried to wash it out but it looks bad.” He told me with this ‘it happens to everybody’ kind of tone. And of course he wanted to come home.
At this point I was trying hard not to both chew his ass out or laugh mine off. Here he has been running around for 48 hours with a “blackened” burn and puncture wound, and only now does it come up. He never even mentioned a wound till this point. I figured that either he was so smashed that only now is it starting to hurt OR he was just using it to get to come home. Turns out it was all of the first and none of the later.
Well I am at class and my loving and wonderful wife, who is a nurse, get to see the wound. She immediately puts him in the car and takes him to urgent care. When she let me know what the plan was I was a little freaked. At any rate the doctor says that both burns are close to 3rd degree in the center, but because he has feeling throughout most of the wound they will call it a 2nd degree burn. He is given cleaning and maintenance instructions and sent home.
So life goes on. My son goes off to school today and wouldn’t you know it he calls just a little after noon and says that the burn is turning green and a red line is going up his arm. We are to rush over and take him straight to the doctor. Again, dad the hard-ass, says sit in your classes and we will deal with it later.
The truth is he has missed so many days of school this year that we are in danger of being called to court to account for his absences. I am not in the slightest sympathetic to his “just after noon” calls to get out of school.
I am now back at school. I had to take El Chupacobra to work so I came straight here and was going to study. On the way I called the house three times to try and talk with my son. He finally calls me at 4:45 and asks where I am and why I am not at home to take him to the doctor. Again, how problematic can these wounds be [as there are indeed two distinct burns/punctures] that he spends 1 ¾ hours after school doing God know what before he wants to go to the doctor?
I told him we will look at it tonight and he could go into the doctor tomorrow.
I further asked him to explain how it happened. I got very vague answers about an accident with someone swinging a stick. Interestingly enough I ran into the host of this little bon-fire and he has exactly the same burn. I mean to say that he has it in exactly the same spot and it’s the same shape. To me this says it was self inflicted!!!!!!! You decide.
Well I asked him how it happened to the host and he screamed at me it was an accident and hung up the phone. When I asked the host about it he told me he didn’t remember anything. His memory was really bad and he had no idea what happened.
BULL SHIT – SIX FEET DEEP – BULL SHIT!
How blazed do you have to be in self-inflict a pair of nasty burns?
This is why I am always so crazy!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The evil that some children do!
The devil child (aka El Chupacabra) as struck again. Last week Mr. Chupacabra asked a bunch of questions about ear piercing. He wanted to know if you could use any earrings and why there were special ones at the mall-places for new holes, and what to do for care of the hole. My wonderful wife and I answered him and of course asked him about his intentions to disfigure his body. He told us that he was going to have a friend pierce his ears. We bluntly told him that this was not permitted in the house and should he come home with extra holes in his head, he would be required to remove the earrings.
As you may have guessed by now, he went ahead and had a friend spick a needle in each earlobe.
He has the “cutes” little pieces of wire plunged into the holes. He came home all puffed up that his chest was literally sticking out. I made him aware that I was disappointed in his conduct and he was required to remove the earrings. He, of course, refused.So he is grounded until they come out. Which is going to be a while, but I am getting ahead of myself in the story. In our attempts to discuss the problem Mr. Chupacabra has made the whole situation about having earrings, rather than about his direct disobedience. He will not acknowledge that he has done anything wrong and continuously refocuses the issue of his trouble back on holes in his head, rather than doing what he was told not to do.
Of course if he were to accept the idea that he did something wrong then the parents would be on the side of righteous justice and he would be the villain, so this can never happen.
His argument is that it is his body and he should be allowed to do anything he wants. He even tries to wrap himself in the US constitution and say he has a right to do this. I continually redirect the discussion [aka stupid fucking argument] back to his disobedience. The reality of the holes in his head are that I don’t very much care for them, but don’t really care. What I do care about is that his actions are violating our family rules.
Not so long ago, another member of the family went out and had his ears pierced. I did in fact tell him I would like him to remove them. It took about 3 days, but they were gone. This has a giant deal to do with the fact that he could not keep them clean and they got infected and started to hurt, but hey if God wants to help me in these battles I am going to accept his help.
At any rate, El Chupacabra when we first told him he was grounded until the earrings were removed started to do all of his classical manipulations. He was going to take them out when he wanted to do something, and put them back in as he walked out the door. This is a perfect example of his interpretation of the world. Utilize the letter of the law to defeat the spirit of the law.
THIS IS THE BIGGEST REASON I DISLIKE THIS PERSON!
So the argument continued to escalate and he hurled insults and nastys all over. My sweet and lovely wife was a bi*ch. I was a jerk. We were being stupid, and we were stupid. Again he fails to see that it’s not the earrings but rather his going against our express and ultimately clear directions and rules. I can’t tell you how many times I drove the conversation back to the point about disobedience.
El Chupacabraha has a huge problem with any sort of authority. He bucks and bristles anytime someone his any type of power over him. He hates his teachers, especially the principal and his guidance counselor, as they have huge ability to affect his life. He hates us as we have the house and money and such that he likes.
On another note all together, he finally admitted that he does not want to continue to live in our house because of the nice house, loving environment, safe realm, or any of the other things that all the literature says he should like about living here. Nope! He wants to stay because he likes his friends and school situation.
Academically he is being somewhat successful. This semester is the first semester he is failing anything. He is failing his English class because he refused to do a speech. He flat out did not want to do the research, work-up, and presentation and would rather try to find another way to avoid doing it, even if it means having to take summer classes. Once again we see the oppositional defiant nature of El Chupacabra.
I am left with a waiting game of wills and weakness. He IS grounded until he takes the earrings out [for good] plus he is grounded for his sustained verbal abuse to my lovely wife. I want to bring this issue up with his therapist and discuss the level f response. My wonderful wife wanted to ground him for an additional month, because she is a relentless target for his abuse. I think this is an excellent starting place for his therapy!
Now all I have to do is put up with his crap until his ears get infected or until he decides he wants to be able to go places. I still have phone privileges, his possessions, and such to use to punish further bad behaviors, but Lord willing I won’t have to battle this devil on that level.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Campfire and the Internet
Tonight I find myself sitting on my deck. This is not such an unusual thing as I love to be out her during the warmer months. This spring has been pretty cool and my arrival to the deck is somewhat delayed, but now that I am here – Oh God is it nice!
I have, on many an occasion, brought my computer or portable DVD player to the deck, where I can surf the web, watch a movie, or even do homework. This is a very nice way to be! Recently we purchased a deck fireplace. You have all seen them at Wal-Mart of wherever. They are like a round bubble of fireplace and have a little chimney on top. Mine is screen all round with a cast-iron base. It even has a grill in it if you want to roast hotdogs or char some lobster tails.
I picked it up after showing it to my wife (who fell in love with it). It was a perfectly warm and absolutely wonderful day when we picked it up, but by the time we got home and got it assembled it was just too late to light it up. So it sat on the deck for four days – mocking me with its potential warmth and mesmerizing fire light. Night after terrible night it was either raining or I had night class or the likes. I was tortured by a 73 pound big fat cast iron pot.
Well the torture has ended. I finished my obligations for the night and lit the thing up. Now with computer in hand I am sitting on my deck with internet and enjoying a perfect fire. LIFE IS GOOD!
It is going to get even better. I have herb grilled chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes and dressing waiting for me and my exalted wife will soon be joining me. With the dogs fed the whole house is quiet. I can hear the highway in the distance, but it is really more background noise than anything else.
Of course sitting here thinking makes me remember all the homework I have to do and all of the professional work I have to do, but a fire helps you say “Oh f*ck it.” Cuz there is always too much work and never enough time and you really have to take care of yourself!
I think if there is anything that results in the demise of a psychologist (or any helping professional) it failure to look after your own needs. Here we are working to make everybody else’s life better that we forget to improve our own. It is frighteningly insidious in that respect. All of our time and energy goes to others, which is not a bad thing, but we fail to put in the time required to nourish out own happiness.
It happens for me in the dumbest things. I do pretty well with knowing when my school work is getting to me. I am doing a pretty good job at not letting the professional crap get to me either, but I tend to focus on doing those things (and the housework). The reality is that there is never enough time to do everything, so it’s not any single thing, but the work as a whole that gets to me, plus I don’t tend to even notice until I am really unhappy and stressed. Hence here I am sitting by the fire with my computer and a nice meal, just telling the complete mess of work to “F” off.
I have, on many an occasion, brought my computer or portable DVD player to the deck, where I can surf the web, watch a movie, or even do homework. This is a very nice way to be! Recently we purchased a deck fireplace. You have all seen them at Wal-Mart of wherever. They are like a round bubble of fireplace and have a little chimney on top. Mine is screen all round with a cast-iron base. It even has a grill in it if you want to roast hotdogs or char some lobster tails.
I picked it up after showing it to my wife (who fell in love with it). It was a perfectly warm and absolutely wonderful day when we picked it up, but by the time we got home and got it assembled it was just too late to light it up. So it sat on the deck for four days – mocking me with its potential warmth and mesmerizing fire light. Night after terrible night it was either raining or I had night class or the likes. I was tortured by a 73 pound big fat cast iron pot.
Well the torture has ended. I finished my obligations for the night and lit the thing up. Now with computer in hand I am sitting on my deck with internet and enjoying a perfect fire. LIFE IS GOOD!
It is going to get even better. I have herb grilled chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes and dressing waiting for me and my exalted wife will soon be joining me. With the dogs fed the whole house is quiet. I can hear the highway in the distance, but it is really more background noise than anything else.
Of course sitting here thinking makes me remember all the homework I have to do and all of the professional work I have to do, but a fire helps you say “Oh f*ck it.” Cuz there is always too much work and never enough time and you really have to take care of yourself!
I think if there is anything that results in the demise of a psychologist (or any helping professional) it failure to look after your own needs. Here we are working to make everybody else’s life better that we forget to improve our own. It is frighteningly insidious in that respect. All of our time and energy goes to others, which is not a bad thing, but we fail to put in the time required to nourish out own happiness.
It happens for me in the dumbest things. I do pretty well with knowing when my school work is getting to me. I am doing a pretty good job at not letting the professional crap get to me either, but I tend to focus on doing those things (and the housework). The reality is that there is never enough time to do everything, so it’s not any single thing, but the work as a whole that gets to me, plus I don’t tend to even notice until I am really unhappy and stressed. Hence here I am sitting by the fire with my computer and a nice meal, just telling the complete mess of work to “F” off.
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