Yes that is a loaded question no?  I have to say that Rick and I are doing well financially, but the economy is preventing me from obtaining a better paying daylight hour job. And that prevention is causing me such alarm and concern because I’m at a place where I’m so so ready to have my son move in with us full time.
My son. The most important person in my life and I’m perhaps failing him?!
A topic I haven’t blogged about in forever because I’ve been trying to be respectful to my teenage son. And yet…he’s getting himself into trouble and I feel the need to be more active and present in his life. Impossible when you work from 12:45 to 10:15 p.m. Mon-Thurs and 8-1 on Saturday’s. I’m working during the hour’s that he’s home from school. He’s still living with his Dad and I’m thinking that based on his recent behavior’s that this is just not working out to be the best arrangement for his well being. His father has too many other things and too little supervision and it’s causing issues. In my ex’s defense, though many say there is no defense for him, I believe he’s trying his best, but when a teenager has the desire to dis-obey they will do so regardless of who is trying to tell them what they should do.
I want to blog the details because they are the things that keep me up at night. What will become of my son? That’s the question that flies across my brain repeatedly for the two hours that I struggle to fall asleep. I’ve taken to popping sleeping pills and though I wrote a song titlted “Pop a Pill†that was not what I was referring to then. But each night that I pop two sleeping pills in hopes of sleeping through my worry, I am singing that song in my head. It’s a sad state of affairs.
Rick has been supportive but feels out the loop since he’s the stepfather, etc. It’s a hard and complicated situation to write about but suffice it to say that I am angry with the economy right now because I should be rejoicing in completing my undergrad and seeking better paid daylight employment but I’ve submitted my carefully constructed resume to 350+ job listings and haven’t received one phone call or inquiry. This is the same message I am hearing from all over.
There are parts of me that regret purchasing a home this year because heck…I can’t even explore employment in another not so awful state. Yet, I can’t leave my city anyway because I have a court order that says we have joint custody.Â
Keith is at an age where he should have a part time job after school, an activity that would motivate him and keep him too busy to get into trouble, but those jobs are now being manned by 30-something adults who have lost their “real†job. Every time I go into a 7-11 it’s not a punk kid with too many tattoo’s taking my money, it’s a formerly white collar man in his mid forties who’s over qualified to sell hot dogs.
The saddest thing is there are tons of jobs listed…that pay less than what I currently make. Tons of the jobs I was seeking 5 and 6 years ago. I don’t need those jobs now. And the jobs I wanted 5 and 6 years ago…they aren’t really listed in heavy numbers. I’m enrolling in a Master’s program and I fear that when I’m done with it, I will have even more education that a 7-11 employee really needs to have.
It’s such a sad thing that some nights as I’m popping my sleeping pills I want to down them with a glass of straight up Vodka. I never do, but apparently I need not because there’s one member of my family taking care of that drinking binge all on his own accord…or so they say. What will become of my blue eyed little boy while this recession prevents me from doing all that I wish I could?
FUCK YOU to every mortgage broker who told two shiny happy smiling people that they COULD afford that pretty house in the suburbs. FUCK YOU to every former corner office holder on wallstreet who snuffed up the numbers a little bit to pad their own wallets. FUCK YOU to the liars, cheaters, con-artists and stupid pimps who used and abused everything they should have cared about. FUCK YOU recessionary economy…FUCK YOU!
Oh and FUCK YOU all you Mommy bloggers that think the hardest thing about being a parent is getting your child to sleep in their bedroom all night. YOU ain’t seen nothing yet!
