We had our words, a common spat. So I kissed him upside the cranium with an aluminum baseball bat

Sunday blog -

The long weekend at home is winding down slowly (even though technically I have tomorrow off as well, that won't be for anything nearly as fun as spending the day at home) and things are leveling out in the home drama.

The boy landed at my mother's house and sounds like he's reciting all the things he knows he should be really concerned with doing to make things better - I remain in the same holding pattern until we can speak about those things in the past tense.
It's totally the nature of the teenager to expect any mention of past fuck-ups to fade into distant memory almost before they're done fucking up and to get full credit for things they intend to do before they even begin - and to call you a fucking jerk for not seeing the infallible beauty of their logic.

"I will" and "I'm gonna" need to be replaced with some real changes in his actions before the situation starts getting better. I hope he actually IS going to do those things but I'm willing to wait and see.

So the holding pattern persists.

But at least he knows what he needs to recite - that at least tells me that he has the list of things he needs to work on committed to memory, even if he doesn't actually feel that nagging voice of maturity telling him that those things actually ARE a big deal. If he had no clue what he was doing that would be a much larger problem.

The total effect of all this is that things are at least more stable than they were a couple days ago, even if they aren't improving they aren't getting worse by the moment. I'll take that.

Today the family is holing up in what appears to be an early round of seasonal colds/lack of motivation. The gray days and early darkness make it easy to park in front of the Game Show Network (for them, anyway) and point your socks at the fireplace and drink some hot chocolate.

if we're going to be stuck in a holding pattern it might as well be cozy.