Posts Tagged ‘Nickel Bag’

Sigh.

What started off as a semi-good day yesterday turned into a major disaster.

It started off Saturday night with a conversation I had with Bubba. We were all home and playing games in the living room when Chief made an exit to do what he usually does when Spaz gets to be TOO Spazz-y. Mainly, take a hit from a joint to curb the desire to punch Spaz in the face.

Sounds harsh, I know.. but that’s the reality of it.

At any rate… So Chief leaves the room and I get up to go to the bathroom. No sooner had I put my ass on the toilet all hell breaks loose in the living room. I can’t tell you what it was about.. and in truth, I really don’t care. All I know is when Bubba and Spaz are in the same room together unattended.. all hell breaks loose.

Spaz is a major drama queen and if I’m being honest, Bubba usually gets the short end of the stick when Spaz starts screaming and crying and whining about some minor infraction that’s usual between brothers that are 3 years apart.

So Chief goes out there and handles things but I’m done with them now.. Spaz truly does take the joy out of most things done as a family.

I go into the bedroom and it isn’t long before Bubba knocks on my door asking to come in. I forget where Chief was … he may have been in the bathroom at that point :: not sure :: and we start having a conversation about how he hates being around Spaz because he gets under his skin and Chief always takes Spaz’s side.. etc. etc. etc.

So I tell him that he has to grow up a little… recognize that Spaz has a mental problem and if he :: meaning Bubba :: doesn’t feed into it then Spaz has no ammunition to use on him.

BUBBA: Why can’t you just tell him to [whatever]

ME: Are you serious? I can’t get YOU to do [whatever] what makes you think I can get HIM to?

Mind you.. Bubba is only looking out for himself and trying to wrangle a way to do what HE wants to do. But I know this and I’m not falling into the trap.

ME: You know, you could have never lasted growing up with my parents.

BUBBA: Why?

ME: Because I didn’t have a tv in my bedroom.. I had to do my homework as soon as I came home from school.. I had chores to do.. had curfews, rules to follow, etc.

BUBBA: That sucks

ME: You really think it was that way because they were being assholes? No.. they gave me a foundation to becoming as successful as I am.

BUBBA: Yea, you are like.. the most successful person I know.

ME: There you have it.

I told him that we were going to my nephew’s party on Sunday and taking Spaz so he would have the whole day by himself to play all the damn playstation he wanted and that seemed to make him happy.

So Sunday rolls around and me, Chief and Spaz go to my brother’s. We have a great time until we’re about to leave and Spaz wants me to stop at a store on the way home to buy him a Pepsi.

Are you fucking kidding me, kid?

So he had a attitude and I didn’t care.

Rewind a minute:

While we were at my brother’s, Chief and I went to the Taj Mahal of Wal-Marts and bought a computer for the dining room.

I wasn’t too into spending the money on them but frankly, Bubba is starting high school this year and his summer project needs to be posted on line before school starts and getting him a computer is ONE LESS excuse he’d have for not doing his work.

Since I had TONS of laundry to do, I told Chief that I didn’t want to set the computer up until afterwards because I KNEW the kids were going to start fighting over it even before it got out of the box.

That WAS the plan until we got home and Chief informed me that HE wanted to set it up because HE wanted to play around with it.

Like there has never been a computer in this house before. Give me a fucking break.

I was already torqued because while we were out, Bubba decided he was going to play video games in my bedroom. Oh HELL fucking NO! THEN I find out that Chief said he could “.. if it got too hot in the the living room”

Oh HELL FUCKING NO again.

On top of that.. I went into Spaz’s room and it was a garbage pit. When I told him to clean it up.. he gave me more attitude and started his drama queen shit.

So when Chief started with the damn computer, I was like “.. you know what? YOU stay here with the computer and I’LL go to the laundromat.”

I really didn’t want to be near any of them at that point.

So I leave with the laundry.

Mind you.. I keep all our clothes separated. The boys in one hamper.. the whites in another.. and then me and Chief’s.

I do this for a few reasons. One, I skeeve having their clothes touch mine and two, keeping everything separate means that when they’re finished drying I can fold them and put them back in the baskets and just hand them over when I get home. It saves a lot of time.

So I go there and throw everything in the washers. When it’s time to move them to the dryers, I start taking the kids clothes out and low and behold, there’s piles of petrified dog shit in there.

OH.

MY.

FUCKING.

GOD.

So OLD that being in a wash cycle did nothing to change their molecular structure from ROCK HARD.

Now.. do you know what “beyond embarrassed” means?

It was SO obvious that when Bubba was forced to clean his room, he just scooped up the clothes and threw them in the basket.. and since he never closes his door or keeps the gate up, the dogs shit in his room and he just leaves it there.

So now, everything has to be washed again.

As I’m shaking his clothes out :: to make sure that I’m not missing any dog shit :: you’ll never guess what falls out of the pocket of one of his jeans.

Eleven dollars and..

and…

and…

wait for it…

AND

<< insert drum roll here >>

A nickel bag of pot.

Yep… you read that right.. A NICKEL BAG OF POT.

I can’t even describe to you how much of a kick in the chest that felt like. Especially because I was the one being compromised here. It felt like forever before I could literally move to swipe it up and jam it in my pocket.

Think I was mad BEFORE that? Think I was more then pissed off with the whole “washing the dog shit” thing? Oh my God.. I was fucking L.I.V.I.D. I literally wanted to punch something, that’s how mad I was.

So I quickly finish re-loading the washers.. jump in the truck.. drive the four blocks to my house like Vin Diesel in The Fast and Furious.

I scream into the driveway.. jumped out, slamming the door closed and stomped in the house.

I get right into Bubba’s chin :: he’s way taller then me :: and tell him

THE NEXT TIME YOU WANT TO JUST BALL UP YOUR CLOTHES WITH DOG SHIT ALL IN THEM, YOUR MOTHER CAN WASH YOUR CLOTHES BECAUSE YOU ARE COSTING ME MORE TIME.. MORE MONEY.. AND MAJOR EMBARRASSMENT.

Then I pointed to Chief and said:

YOU.. IN THE BEDROOM.. NOW

I marched into the bedroom and he followed.

Before he could even get a word out, I held my hand out to him and said “.. THIS is what I found in Bubba’s pocket.”

He was shocked… I gave it to him and told him exactly what happened and how I knew that it was Bubba’s jeans.

Chief stomped out of the room and screamed for Bubba.

Who actually, wasn’t too far.. only about 6 feet away in the kitchen.

Bubba’s excuse is that :: of course :: it wasn’t HIS. I told him that they were definitely HIS jeans that it came out of and he asked me which ones. When I described them to him, he told me that they were WEED’S jeans.. that he had gone over to the Crack Whore’s after being in the creek and she told him to change out of his wet clothes and he grabbed a pair of Weed’s pants.

Chief looked at me.. and I looked at him.

The jeans in question WHERE Weed’s. I did know that for a fact. But I also know that junkie’s VERY RARELY.. IF EVER.. “lose” their drugs and especially don’t forget about money.

Plausible excuse? Sure… Possible? Definitely… so what to do?

Me and Chief go back into the bedroom and he tells me that he’s not sure if he believes him or not .. I tell him that I’m not sure either but there is NO QUESTION in my mind that they CAN NOT.. CAN NOT.. CAN NOT.. go over to the Crack Whore’s. He agrees and we go back out to talk to Bubba.

Chief tells him that he doesn’t know what to believe.. that trust is something that goes away when drugs are involved. And in order to re-gain his trust, Bubba is going to have to do this.. that.. and the other thing and isn’t allowed back over to the Crack Whore’s.

I tell Bubba that there is no reason why he needs to be over there now.. since we got a computer, there’s no excuses.

But my mind is still warping at a million miles an hour.

I’m so pissed over SO many things.. things I think I even forgot post.. that I just leave and go back to the laundromat to finish with the clothes.

I get back home around midnight… soaked with sweat because it’s so freakin’ hot and humid and being in a laundromat does nothing to cool one off. Figuratively OR Literally.

I’m in one of those DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TALKING TO ME moods. Jaw clenched.. no eye contact.. zipping around keeping my hands and mind occupied with the mundane.

I brought the clothes in and started putting things away. All the while Chief is watching me.. waiting for me to say something.. but I don’t care. Everything is getting way to much for me to bear.. and I was actually just going to tell him that I was going to go away for a few days. My thought was that maybe not having me around would make them appreciate me more.

I avoid Chief as much as possible and then take a shower.. when I finish, he had gotten the hint I think because the bedroom light was out and he was snoring.

I got into bed and finally fell asleep.

Monday morning I wake up at around 10. Late for me but I figured after everything that had gone on, Chief wasn’t going to wake me up to go down to the shop.

I go into Spaz’ room to turn off his air conditioner and his room is still a mess.

I go upstairs to turn off Bubba’s air conditioner :: even though the mother fucker didn’t even go upstairs to sleep therefore running up my electric bill :: and guess what? HIS room is a garbage pit but better YET was the fact that there was STILL a pile of dirty clothes in the corner AND Chief had been up there the night before when he turned on his air condition.. so HE SAW IT but chose not to do anything or say anything about it.

Quite Mode Again.

I go down to the store and I’m not saying much at all.. just whatever is necessary in one or two word sentences. On top of that, I feel sad. Sad that things are turning out the way they are.

Weed winds up strolling in just as Chief is walking out to go by cigarettes. I ask Weed if he’s missing a nickel bag and he was like, “Noooooo” and I tell him what I had found doing the laundry.

He tells me he knew Bubba was into some stuff because he was hanging around this person’s brother that I never heard of… Chief comes back in and I really can’t remember what was being said but then Chief says:

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I REALLY DON’T WANT THEM TO GO OVER TO [THE CRACK WHORE’S]

That’s when the valve came off my pressure cooker.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO? YOU. DON’T. KNOW. WHAT. TO DO???!!!

I started going off on him the way I used to go off on my psycho-ex.. dropping “dude” and “man” instead of “honey” and “babe”.

I can’t remember exactly what I said.. but I went off about how HE was the parent.. how them being at her place was obviously not heading in a good direction.. that he knows what goes on over there and yet he constantly puts his kids in danger by allowing them over there.. I told him that he is SO worried about being the “good guy” that his kids don’t respect him.. they don’t listen.. have too much freedom. That it isn’t about them having clean rooms or doing the dishes in the sink but about doing what they are told.. and respecting him as a parent and me as an adult. It’s life lessons and skills that they need to be taught that they’re not learning.. or being repremanded for not doing. I told him that I seem to be the only one that is trying to mold them into in good, honest, decent people and all he does is hide out in the bedroom not to deal with them… I told him that he already “lost” one son and if he doesn’t straighten up and fly right.. if he doesn’t start being a parent.. he was going to lose the other two because the whole summer Bubba was never around and nobody knew exactly where he was at or who he was with.

I know I said other things but that’s about the gist of it.

I also turned to Weed and told him that he better get his fucking life together and do something to make his father proud of him because his father had done nothing but crawl over broken glass to provide for him and all he’s done so far is fuck him in the face.

Everything got quiet and finally Chief asks me what he should do.

I tell him to do “the right thing”.

He asks what that is and I tell him to “follow thru”

Then I was done talking. I was too worn out and torqued and all these other emotions.

Chief goes in the back and about 10 minutes later, he walks out.

When he returns, he tells me that he went to the house and laid into the boys. He said that he went into each of their rooms and told them exactly what he expected to be done.

He looked worn out.. emotional.. even teary.

I told him that he needed to leave the shop. I’d handle it. He should go home.. be with the boys.. keep an eye on them and make them understand that he wasn’t playing around anymore.

So he left.

When he returned around 4:30 to relieve me, he walked in and just gave me this big hug and tried putting his head on my shoulder :: he’s taller then me :: and told me how much he loved me and how much it hurts him to see me so upset and so “grrrr”.

I said that I wasn’t sorry that I blew up but that I was sorry that it had to happen in order to shake him up into doing what needs to be done. He said he needed that.. he needs to be told and that he was glad that I was there.. that I was concerned enough.. that I loved them enough to point out the obvious.

So things are okay now.. and hopefully, he’ll stick with it.

HA! Just got a text from the Crack Whore.

THIS should be good!