House of Zathras

The only kid still at home has been the toughest to rear.  He gives a whole new definition to oppositional defiance.  And I don’t know if I’m just worn-out from the other three, but I don’t have the patience with Buck that I know he really needs.  He just never learns his lesson.  He complains that we’re always after him…but he never does the chores or other responsibilities that we ask him.  He can’t make the connection that unfinished chores=nagging.  That not doing the work at school=nagging, and poor grades.

This morning, he was complaining about the hot water heater.  It’s a gas heater, and the pilot light won’t stay lit.  Something to do with the volume of air flow in the small room it’s in.  We keep a small fan in there to increase air flow, but then dust and dog hair collect on the mesh filter that protects the air intake of the heater.  So, I told Buck to vacuum the filter and the room.  He started complaining because he had to get ready for an ROTC event. I told him he should have prepared his clothes the night before.  That a lack of planning on his part didn’t make it an emergency on mine.  Then it went downhill.  He vacuumed the laundry room…slamming into every object and wall possible.  Seriously.  It sounded like King Kong in there, smacking at imaginary biplanes.  Then he started yelling about having to get ready.  I repeated what I said that if everything had been ready the night before, he wouldn’t be having time issues this morning.

Buck:  But it’s just a shirt I have to iron.  It’s nothing!!!!!  It won’t take any time!!!!!!!

Me:  You didn’t start washing your clothes until 10:00 last night.  You lay in bed all day playing videos, when you could have had your shirt washed and ironed before you went to bed.

Buck:  But it’s not taking me any time right now!  (As he’s taking the shirt out of the dryer and checking to see if it’s completely dry.)

Me:  You’re complaining about not having time now.  And it’s not the first time you’ve had to run around  at the last minute trying to find your clothes and other things.

Buck:  I had plenty of time!!

Me:  Until I asked you to vacuum?  A job that takes less than five minutes in that small room?  If five minutes makes you late, then you didn’t have plenty of time.

Buck:  All I had to do was iron my shirt!!!!

Me:  And all those other times?  Buck, you have to stop the relative reasoning, looking for excuses for every single incident!

Buck:  I. WAS. NOT. REASONING!!!!!!

Me:

Me:

Me:  BWAH-HAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAAA!  Exactly!!!!

Me:  (Feeling bad for laughing, but it was my point exactly.)

And Buck was yelling something at me.  I let it go.   I have to, have to, have to remember that his logical reasoning (aside from the normal teen-impaired logic) is that of a much younger person.  He cannot reason like someone his age.  There is little or no understanding of cause-and-effect consequences in his psyche.  Buck has trouble with respecting boundaries.  I wish the counseling would have helped, but we’ve about given up on that.  I hate his egg-donor more and more each day.  I hate that we can’t have the same expectations of behavior for Buck that we’ve had for the other three kids.

And oh, when Goob was down on leave this past week, he told us something else about that chunt that BR and I didn’t know.  She would play something that she called ‘the breathing game’.  She would walk up behind him with a section of plastic wrap in her hands and put it over his face, pulling back tight on it.  The bitch is psychotic.  Jesus, I wish we’d known that back during the custody battle.  We could have had her arrested.

I wish she would drop dead.  Preferably of a crotch-fire.  She did get a crotch-fire, and it did incapacitate her for awhile.  But she’s still out there, alive and breathing, waiting to bring her brand of evil and stupidity into our lives.  Into Buck’s life.  Dear God, please protect him.

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UPDATE:  I guess Buck WAS right…he did have time.  It’s now an hour after the incident, and he’s still waiting for his ride to the ROTC event.  I asked him what time the event was, and it’s not for another hour and a half.  I asked him what time his ride is coming, and he said he didn’t know.  Then I asked him if he could call to ask, and he said he didn’t have the kid’s phone number.

So…I walked away.  So many useless conflicts.  I have to work on avoiding those.  He can sit there and sit there and sit there for another hour. Or more.   Sitting there waiting for life to happen to him.  *sigh*

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 21st, 2012 at 11:57 am and is filed under Criminal Thoughts, Family Fear Factor, kids, Things I Hate. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.