Remember the credit card account I had so much trouble closing?
Yeah, they are sending us checks to use to transfer balances or purchase anything we like. I am getting emails telling me about various exciting opportunities.
Let me be clear. These are not offers to open a new account. All the correspondence has written clearly across the top:
Regarding your account ending ####
It is the closed account.
A foster care alum contacted me about her new blog. I've just read the first two posts. It promises to be a moving and thoughtful blog. I recommend you add it to your list.
Growing Up Lost
Off topic, of course...
The electrician and buddy (he seemed more like a fellow electrician brought on to help with the job rather than an employee to be ordered about), came and did "discovery." This meant that they looked closely at stuff and climbed into my attic.
They like my attic. It seems I have 500 sq ft of usable space. I could put in a room. Putting in a stair case TO the attic would be an issue, but the buddy tells me that I could easily put in a metal spiral staircase on the landing in the back entry (where now the recycling piles up). It would be a really cool room. If I don't want to do that I should at least consider one of those pull down staircases in the hall and use it for storage.
He seemed quite excited.
I'm thinking they spend a lot of time crawling in tight attics.
I got excited when the electrician pointed at one of the dozen of wires Roland has running around door frames and along the floors and said, "If you want, I can run all these wires through the attic too."
I almost fainted with joy.
He did say that he might have to go a just a bit over the original bid. I told him that his bid had come in a bit under what I had budgeted for the job (although if I had had to buy light fixtures it would have be over in total), so that was okay.
Next week they work.
Because Dawn did it...answers vague based upon my need to preserve anonymity.
♥ What are your middle names?
Well, I'm not going to tell you...however we both now have two and my maiden name is the second one for each of us. It is Andrew and Brian's middle names.
♥ How long have you been together?
We met in October 1983 and were married in 1985.
♥ How long did you know each other before you started dating?
About a week. (Same answer as Dawn!)
♥ Who asked who out?
He asked me to a movie I didn't want to see and party I did not want to go to (I was proud that I had NEVER gone to a frat party). I said, "Yes. I would love to."
♥Who said I love you first?
Is it bad that I don't remember?
♥ How old are each of you?
45 and 46. Our birthdays are exactly 6 months apart. (Yes, you can now do the math and figure out how very young I was when I got married.)
♥ Whose siblings do/did you see the most?
We don't see any of them regularly as they all live so far away. In the past five years we have seen his siblings once, at his parent's wedding annersary. I have visited my sister twice without him and we both saw her at the cabins last summer.
♥ Do you have any children together?
Yes
♥ What about pets?
We have just about always had cats, though recently ventured out to dogs. Currently there are two dogs and two cats.
♥ Did you go to the same schools?
We met at college.
♥ Are you from the same hometown?
Not even close. Opposite sides of the country in fact. Our mothers grew up 50 miles apart and consequently we both grew up with some of the same family favorites. Really, how many people eat peanut butter sandwiches with tomatoes? (Think about it before you go "eww." It is a less syrupy version of peanut butter and jelly.)
♥ Who is the smartest?
Me. Oh, am I supposed to explain that and make it nicer sounding?
♥ Who is the most sensitive?
I think he is, although he is better at controlling it so most people know us only a little would think I am. I tend to think out every possible angle of a decision (hence the blog). He is much more likely to be hurt by something one of the kids say, though not as much as once did.
♥ Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Eat out as a couple? People do that? You mean, like without kids?
Actually sometimes we grab lunch together at the locally-owned Mexican place and I have a vague memory of eating Italian food with him with no kids around.
♥ Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
To both coasts of the US.
♥ Who has the worst temper?
Me. Though I think I am mellowing, I am more likely to get angry quickly and get over it quickly. He has a very hard time expressing anger, which can be frustrating.
♥ Who does the cooking?
Me. Totally. If I am out of town and ask him to please save money and cook at home he will buy a pre-made pizza to put in the oven.
♥Who is the most social?
I have more one-on-one friends that I try to do things with regularly. He thinks that parties are FUN. Amazing.
♥ Who is the neat-freak?
He likes everything clean on the surface, but underneath that there is no organization. Really. He has old cords that go to nothing in his underwear drawer. I am the opposite. There is a place for everything, but it can take a while for things to get to that place.
♥ Who is the most stubborn?
He is...or at least it seems to me. It may be more though that when he is convinced of something no amount of logical and reasoned argument is persuasive, and that can make me crazy.
♥ Who wakes up earlier?
Often his job requires that he get up earlier, but when we can sleep as we like I get up earlier by far.
♥ Where was your first date?
The movie and party, remember? We got to the party before anything was happening and both were bored so we went for a walk which was wonderful.
♥Who has the bigger family?
He does. He two siblings and I have one, but his extended family is huge and his mother keeps everyone in touch.
♥Do you get flowers often?
No, but I do get chocolate which is better.
♥ Who do you spend the holidays with?
We rarely travel for holidays.
♥Who does/did the laundry?
He does, but slowly. I joke about the required two week quarantine for all clothes.
♥ Who’s better with the computer?
Me mostly, except I have this inexplicable aversion to PowerPoint and he uses it well.
♥ Who drives when you are together?
On road trips I do much more of the long highway driving because he gets sleepy. He does any and all driving in unfamiliar cities. When he drives I read maps at his request, give him directions, then he does what he thinks is right and I get mad at him. It's a whole thing. On car-sick-inducing roads I drive, Andrew sits in front and he and Brian sit in the back.
♥ Who picks where you go to dinner?
Either I do, or I give the kids choices and tell them to let me know when they have come to agreement.
♥ Who is the first one to admit when they’re wrong?
Admit being wrong? What a concept. Do we do that? I think mostly nobody admits they were wrong, we just find something we can agree on. Except of course when he is wrong. I sometimes Have to apologize for being bitchy, but I wasn't wrong while being bitchy.
♥ Who named your pet?
Most of our pets came pre-named and our children have found the idea of re-naming to be morally unacceptable. Brian has named the few pets who arrived nameless.
♥ Who wears the pants in the relationship?
The kids would say that I do because I am better taking the executive position. In confusion my instinct is to give orders and he is good about that. We make decisions together though. Generally though if one of us cares strongly about something they get it.
♥ Who has more tattoos?
Clearly I am far too old for these meme. No tats.
♥ Who eats more sweets?
Close call. I'd addicted to chocolate. He drinks several sodas every day, although he insists that it is for the caffeine, not the sugar.
♥ Who cries more?
Me. He rarely cries, although he did cry in the Stewart Little movie.
Twice.
All three times.
♥ Are you still together?
Would I have done this meme if we weren't?
I came home today about an hour before the boys should be here and Gary was in the living room. I asked him if he was okay. He said that he was feeling better but that he had had a migraine. This morning it hurt so bad he couldn't move.
I've known him long enough not to be deceived by that relaxed, "just reporting the news tone" as he said it. I got the phone and called the physician. He has an appointment for tomorrow morning. And let us all be happy that the private agency will pay for whatever medication the doctor prescribes.
Anyway, he was feeling better so we watched some stuff on the DVR. It was nice. Just sitting there, watching TV, pausing it to talk about MMA stuff (translation: listen while he talked), or to explain the TV show something to him ("No, Cole isn't Balthazar or the source or human, really anymore. He's just full of demon powers and going insane." Yes, I have sunk this low in my need for girl power. Blame Joss Wedon.) And while we were thus quietly engaged my cell phone beeped. It was a text from the social worker.
"I'm running late, but I should be there in about 45 minutes. Sorry."
Oh. Um. I guess the social worker is coming over.
So she came over.
And nothing happened.
Lordy, blogging when everything is going well is REALLY BORING.
Roland is taking Gary to the physician tomorrow.
Gary wanted to chat last evening. It sort of went in a circle and I think it stopped where it did because I had to go to bed, not because he had settled on anything.
He wanted to know if I had sent in the form saying he would be attending the charter school next year. "Yes, but it's not like they can do anything if you change your mind. Are you thinking of going back to Our Small Town High?"
"Well, maybe...." Reasons turn out to be:
1. Everything at the charter school is college prep level and he is having trouble keeping up with the work.
2. He wants to start a martial arts club and that would be more successful at Our Small Town High (OSTH).
3. OSTH offers more AP classes for which you can get concurrent credit (i.e. pay tuition to a local college, not mine, and receive high school credit for the course).
4. He really isn't "arty." In his art history class (required there), they are doing calligraphy. Everyone else is able to make this really cool letters, but he can't. They do art stuff in almost every single class!
5. He could take courses like sports medicine at OSTH.
I did not point out the contradiction between 1 & 3, although when he said "AP English" I did tell him remind him that English wasn't his best subject and he shouldn't count on being able to get into AP English. I reaffirmed that it was his choice but I wanted him to remember what his experience of being at OSTH was like.
I realize that I forgot to mention that at the art school kids are allowed to listen to their MP3 players while they do work. He likes that.
Then he said that he thought that he could get his martial arts club going at the OSTH, did I think so?
I said that I thought he could get it going at the charter school if he pitched it right. "What if you sold if at first as a club to learn stage fighting? It could grow into something else, but stage fighting is something that would fit the school."
He thought that might work. Then he talked about how it would be dangerous to teach martial arts at OSTH. There are some pretty rough kids and he would feel bad if anyone took what he taught them and used it to really hurt anyone. The kids at the arts school are not the sort that get into fights.
Then I pointed out that he could block/choreograph and direct a fight scene for his senior project. He thought that that was WAY cool. Then he said that some of the best fight scenes in movies were acted in slow motion and then sped up. I asked if there was any way that he could do his senior project with someone who did video work, or maybe he could do the video work too.
Anyway, that was where we left it. He was pretty excited about the idea.
But who knows where he will be this afternoon.
I told Gary last night that I was very pleased that he told the truth when Roland asked him how he got home. (See previous post -- I'm not in a linking mood).
He responded, "Well, there wasn't any point in lying. Everyone already knew."
Insert contended sigh here.
Yes, my darling, beware. If Dad is home when you walk into the house a full ten minutes after your brother, he may be suspicious. Remember, it was MOM who suggested she wouldn't worry too much about how you got home, although even she might have thought that the ten minute gap was pushing credibility.
Dad though, well that is a whole 'nuther ball of wax. When DAD agreed that the parents wouldn't make great efforts to monitor you he meant that he wouldn't pay Verizon to track your phone, or wait by the bus stop to greet you when you got off. He did not even consider that he would look the other way when you tried to sneak in the back door ten minutes late.
I know this is not much of a comfort to you, but I want you to know that I am really very proud of you for telling the truth when he asked you how you got home, even though it means you are grounded for 48 hours again.
Blogging is a wonderful thing when you are stressed. It is therapeutic. Reading blogs written by people who are coping with the hard times is also helpful. It confirms our own experiences. It gives us hope that we can do it to. Sometimes it even gives us specific ideas about how to go about handling problems. And let's face it...problems are INTERESTING. They just are. Conflict is central, necessary to any story. If there is no conflict there is no story. So it should not be suprising that blogging when life is good has a tendency to be boring for everyone.
And yet I want this to be out there: sometimes parenting a kids from foster care who have suffered rejection and trauma is easy.
Sometimes it is everything that you imagined it would be back when you were naive and thought it was going to be easy.
Not always, maybe not even usually, but sometimes it is.
You've probably seen it, but if you haven't you should. (Warning: get tissues first).
"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.
Gary is very proud of his second place medal and says we need a wall to display all the awards he is going to get, including this one.
He doesn't want us to think he is TOO proud of his medal though. He said, "You know what second place is? It is the first person who loses! Second place is just 'first loser.'"
Brian looked at him a bit confused, "No, all the losers lose at the same time."
Gary gave a foot race analogy, the winner crosses the finish line and the person who comes in second is the first person to lose.
"No" said Brian, "when the winner crosses the finish line everyone has loses RIGHT THEN. They all lose at the same time."
I'm not sure how that one ended up. They debated for a while.
It was yesterday. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was yesterday.
And he wanted to go, which was good because we previously paid the fee for him to compete.
Oh, regarding the fee? At first he asked for an advance on his allowance. He said it was very important to him to pay for it himself and he didn't want us to pay for it. I said that it was the sort of thing we usually pay for for kids, and he said that he didn't want us to. I said that we would pay half and when his allowance came I would give him the rest. When it was time for the allowance his girlfriend had just asked him to go to the winter formal and he wanted to take her out to dinner. He asked me for ideas for restaurants where he could get her dinner and maybe still be able to buy a corsage for [insert total allowance amount here]. We didn't talk about the fee. It was okay. I gave him the full allowance.
Anyway, he wasn't sure of the time, so he spent all morning calling people. Of course he might have called days before, but what would be the fun in that?
At noon he found out that it started at 10:00am, so I drove him over. He didn't want to compete in any kick boxing matches, just grappling.
He went to the girlfriend's after, of course.
Then he came home. And now the part that you've all been waiting for!
"I came in second! I would have won, but on the last match I lost on points...just one point! See you get points for [insert explanation here]. And in the match he did [this] and I did [this] and then everyone was yelling 'mount! mount! mount!" because that is the only way I could win. Then I got him in a mount and I was just holding on and holding on and he couldn't shake me and I was going to win by one point. Except right at the end when they were calling time I relaxed like one second too soon and he threw me off and so he won by one point. But I am a good sport about it because I know that I was better than he was!
"The first match was SWEET. It was like five seconds long. I got the guy [insert explanation] and he tapped out! It was great, because I haven't had that much confidence since I got kicked in the head, but everything just went so perfect and I came out of there just glowing. I felt really good!
"And then there was the second match, and I won that too."
There was at one point a detailed description of the second match, but it was not, as the other two were, on automatic replay all evening long. Having heard that description only once, I can't even summarize it for you. He did win though.
He was on a high all evening, telling us about it over and over and over.
It was lovely to see him so happy.
He is going to go back to the private gym though. He is going to take the class that Brian is in instead of working out with the fighters. He thinks that is best. He will still go to the Y to work out though. He needs to go to the class so he can earn the belts. You don't need belts to compete in MMA, but someday he wants to open his own gym and probably people will only pay him to teach them if he does have a black belt, so he is going to get one.
He is happy.
And he still has all of his teeth.
"It has come to our attention that the monthly reporting form sucks. Do you have any suggestions?"
That was the topic of the monthly foster parent support group last night. I paraphrase, of course. There is always a topic and it counts as a training hour. I always intend to go, but I consistently forget.
I have to get 12 hours of training a year. Usually I end up with something between 25 and 50. So much of what I do (did) counted: PFLAG; meetings with the kids' thearpists; Alanon; and then there always seemed to be new required trainings. Suddenly though I am doing nothing. I don't get invited into Gary's therapy sessions (which is okay). Local PFLAG is not more and I don't attend Alanon, although I am not certain they should really count if I am not currently parenting a kid who is neither gay nor a recovering addict. Of course I would defend Alanon -- it is the best foster parent training I ever had.
Anyway, I get relicensed in June and I didn't have any hours at all. I called and got permission to write down a certain number of hours for a book I read, and last night I went to the foster parent support group.
So we talked about the reporting form. I've complained about it for years. The social workers have agreed that it is not meaningful. The basic problem seems to be that they are required to have some sort of form, but that they are all so good about staying in close contact with us that there really isn't anything for us to write on the form that they don't already know. It is never clear to anyone what exactly the form is for, other than to show to the person who shows up periodically who wants to make sure they are doing it.
Anway, we bounced around the same three or four ideas for half an hour and then chatted about our kids. No one had any serious issues.
It was not unpleasant. There was dinner, and that was okay.
And I have another training hour to write down on this month's reporting form.
So you all remember about when he got the front tooth broke in MMA, right?
Well, ever now and then he has mentioned that it is still sensitive. When I ask how much he generally says something like, "Pretty much."
Well, today we got the letter saying that Medicaid will pay for the crown. He asked me if having it would make his tooth not be sensitive anymore, because it was annoying him. I said that they might do a root canal too, but that yes, it wouldn't be sensitive after that.
Then, really casually, like it didn't really matter he said, "So, would I be asleep when they were doing that?"
I said that his dentist did use sedation for people who needed it, but that usually people were awake.
"But they use some sort of pain medication, right?" This time he is still acting casual, but I can see there is some effort involved.
"Oh yeah, it will be completely numb. You won't feel anything."
"Oh good. Well, I think I will probably have it done." He's back to totally nonchalant.
After a while I asked him about this sensitivity. He said that the tooth was sensitive to pressure and hot and cold. He kind of shrugged.
"So, when it hurts the worst, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?"
"Mmm...about seven."
"That's a lot."
He grinned, "Yeah, kind of wants to make you never drink anything cold ever again."
Just in case you ever have to deal with Gary, you should know that if something hurts enough for him to tell you about it, he is in pain.
I suspect the drama teacher talked to the Artistic Director about where her talent was. Today, without much fanfare, the girl who had been offered the part of Scar was asked if she would rather choreograph the dancing, which is where she is most talented, and Brian was asked if he wanted the part of Scar.
So all is well in my little world again.
It was a tough evening for Brian, mostly.
When I came home he was really upset. Really. It turns out that he has good reason to be. Now, I am honest about my kids' weaknesses. I'm not one of those moms who carries on about how wonderful my kid is in everything. However, you must believe me when I tell you that Brian can act. There is a traveling children's theatre and when they come to town, Brian has consistently been one of the kids who have snagged one of the big parts -- even when he was several years younger and had to wear a costume that was far too big for him. I can't stop myself from telling everyone how wonderful he was in Harvey last year. He played Elwood and stayed in character even while feeding other actors their lines. He was genuinely fantastic. At the beginning of the year the drama teacher invited him to switch from Drama 1 to Drama 2 because she did not have any students in the advanced class who could handle a certain part. He declined because he would have to drop either Spanish or Jazz Band, and he has friends in Drama 1.
Okay, so he is good. He can also carry a tune. He isn't a great singer, but he can hit the right notes which in our house is pretty impressive.
So now the class is doing the Lion King. The regular drama teacher isn't directing because it is a musical. The school's "Artistic Director" (AD) is doing it. All the kids who wanted major parts had to sing one line. Brian reports that he did that okay, which I believe. He wanted to play Scar. Brian likes playing bad guys.
The AD came to class yesterday and announced that she was assigning parts based upon what she had seen of their work, not the auditions. She offered the part of Scar to Gary who didn't audition and doesn't want to act and has ever acted before. This is important. If the AD couldn't be assigning parts based upon her views of their previous work because Gary does not have any previous work. Gary wants to do lights. Gary turned it down and then the AD offered it to a girl who Gary says can't sing at all. I remember her from the last play. She didn't remember her lines and kept giggling.
Gary backs Brian up on the story that the casting does not make sense. We are assured that the motive of "giving every one a turn" does not explain the casting decisions, nor does actual talent.
Brian has been offered the part of an background animal who has no lines.
I understand him being upset.
So I sat with him while he raged. I asked him how close he was to having the whole play memorized. He said pretty close. I suggested that he ask his drama teacher to tell the AD that he really can step into any part, any day. Every day someone is absent, he should volunteer to read for whoever it is and do that part well. He can be the unofficial understudy of the whole frickin play. I told him, "Maybe you won't actually get to take over a part, but that so-called artistic director will see what a huge mistake she made!" My being vindictive and petty on his part seemed to really cheer him up.
We also agreed that since one of the things he imagines doing when he grows up is being a drama teacher, that he will use this play as a "lab." I assured him that being such a great actor he was never going to get a chance to be involved in a play and not have a part ever again. This time he could watch to see how the director did things. He could even practice teaching drama by coaching other students.
Anyway, by the end of the conversation he was imagining going in there with quiet dignity and doing everything perfectly. It does help that he knows the real teacher understands that a mistake has been made.
So on to brighter things right? Not so much.
Brian had finally agreed to try out the class at the Y. Gary likes it there more and more. They have got more equipment. There are a couple of other young people there at about his skill level. So Brian went.
He came back anxious and said that he really didn't want to go. The kids in that class were the same sort of kids he had trouble with at his old school (they might have even been some of the same kids). He would like to go back to the private gym, but he knows it costs more and we have to drive farther so if we don't want to he doesn't have to take a class at all.
Roland was first happy to just let him not take any class at all, but I think I convinced him to let Brian go back. The big issue isn't the money, it's the driving. Two boys will have to be collected at about the same time from two different locations twice a week. I had to promise I would do my share of the driving even though I don't like driving at night and usually manage to do things like forget and get into the bathtub just before it is time to go.
We haven't told Brian that it is okay for him to go back to the other class.
**
And one more thing. For his speech class he has to do a presentation on his "family and friends." Now, on one hand I need to talk to the speech teacher and make sure that the assignment was given in such a way that allows kids to protect their privacy. On the other hand, Brian is pretty excited about his. Roland showed him how to use power point and he set something up where one slide is just him and Andrew and then each of his other brothers comes "flying in" one at a time. He's excited about it.
It was an emotional evening for him.
I've been watching The Secret Life of the American Teenager.
I know some people really like it, but for me it is more like watching a train wreck.
In most entertainment one stops being aware of it as entertainment. Usually it is a bad sign if you are noticing the music or special effects, instead of just being carries along by it. It is a really bad sign if you are thinking things like, "She's really one of the better actors. If they were all this good, it wouldn't seem so fake" or "Who writes this dialogue? Have they EVER listened to teenagers?"
You may know that the story revolves around a pregnant fifteen-year-old girl. The whole thing is filled with two dimensional characters: the sardonic sister, the over-the-top dad, the ever-helpful minister, the gay couple, the fifteen-going-on-thirty boyfriend (not the babydaddy), the well-meaning but bumbling guidance counselor, and more. And just to make sure they offend as many people as possible, the only hispanic kid is an incredibly slutty girl while the committed-to-virginity-Christian girl is very, very blonde.
The plot lines are totally unrealistic too. In one episode Amy, her boyfriend and just about the whole teenage cast get fake ID's and Amy and boyfriend get married. Of course they later find out that they aren't really married because of the fake ID's. The thirteen-year-old's fake ID comes in handy when she gets a job as a cocktail waitress for about ten minutes. Oh, she is the only one who still has hers; everyone else's was confiscated by the athletic young man who falsely confessed to making them out of some confused motivation about being a better person. Or something.
But get this: the teenage foster kid who knocked up Amy? He not only has a driver's license; he has his own car!
Right. Like THAT is going to happen.
(I started off planning on writing a serious post about teenagers, sex and pregnancy, but I guess that isn't happening this time around. Maybe later.)
Gary spent a good hour last night reading the bus schedules. He found a bus that does go back and forth from Schoolville to The City. It is possible for him to take buses from the school, to the mall, and eventually back home. It means a total of 3 hours on buses (or waiting for them) and 2 hours at the mall, but it can be done.
I am relieved.
And, to be clear, what I am relieved about is that he won't feel the need to lie to me if what he is doing is going to the mall.
Ah the wild and wacky world of foster care.
Me to Gary: When are u coming home?
Gary: When do you need me home?
Me: Mostly I just need to know. Sooner is better, after 8 is too late.
Gary: Um...6...ish?
Me: k
five minutes later
Gary: Is something wrong?
Me: No. It is just that I cooked turkey thighs, mashed potatoes and peas*. Roland is running an errand, and Brian doesn't like potatoes or peas. No one is here to eat my food.
Gary: I am sorry. LOL.
He's a good kid and a blessing in my life.
___
*All Gary's favorites
I'm having a grumpy afternoon.
I left work after an hour this morning because the heat was broken (and none of the profs who came in early called maintanence), and the cold was setting off my asthma. For a while I was going to try to stick it out but people kept expressing sympathy for that horrible cough I had. So I went home.
I never get as much work done at home.
Anyway, I got a text message from Gary when he got out of school.
Okay, first some geography. We live in Our Small Town. The boys' charter school is THAT way. (Can you see me pointing?) We will call that town Schoolville. The public bus goes back and forth from Our Small Town and Schoolville. If you keep traveling THAT way you get to The City. There is a public communter bus that goes in the morning and come back at 5:00pm, but that is all.
So...I get a text message and Gary wants to know if he and Girlfriend can go to the mall in The City.
Sigh. I told him yesterday that I would assume that he knew he had to ride the bus and not ask him about it, but that it was important to me to know where he was and who he was with. I texted back, "There is no bus to the mall in The City. You can go to the mall in Schoolville, crappy tho I know it is."
He texted back, "The mall in Schoolville will be fine."
So, is he lying? Did he go to the mall in Schoolville, or does he figure that I just don't want to be put in a position of knowing he is riding with Girlfriend and so is lying about where he is going?
It makes me tired...wondering whether he is telling me the truth.
Suddenly I am remembering all the times when dealing with the agency rules have given me headaches.
I wonder if it would have been easier if I had told him that he had to be home on the public bus every day at 3:30. If he stayed at school he would need a sign note from the teacher. Lay down the law. Follow all the rules. No exceptions. No trying to find a reasonable compromise. I don't know if he would sigh and accept that or if it would lead to more lying and sneaking around.
I'm not upset or angry, but I really am tired. If I find out that he has gone to the mall in The City (though I am not going to go crazy trying to track him), there will be a change in the rules. He doesn't understand that I really meant it about telling me the truth. He does not have permission to lie to me so as to avoid the state's driving rule.
And of course it is possible he really did tell me the truth and went to the mall in Schoolville.
I can dream.
***
Update:
Still obsessing. The thing is, I know that nothing is WRONG. He's a basically good kid who wants to do ordinary not-bad things. I want to let him do ordinary not-bad things. I'm just frustrated.
