I am currently sitting at home, waiting for a plumber to show up and fix my flooded basement. Trying to keep it positive, but I had every intention of running some errands this afternoon, getting to church to help with the youth group, and going to the Lenten service.
It appears that none of this is going to happen……I have a sneaking suspicion of what it is going to cost to fix this mess; knowing what the issue is. At this point, I honestly do not care. I am tired of running into my basement every time someone turns on a faucet. I threw out so many books, pictures, clothes, and shoes that I cannot afford to do that one more time.
So for getting out of work early? Yay! The reason why? Boo.
Here is to tomorrow; but I will make the best of today, and unpack and clean as many things as I can!
…being as irritating as possible, in the hopes that I will tell her to move out before she graduates. Before she gets a job. Before she can financially support herself.
I really do not think she understands that once this happens, she will truly be cut off from any financial assistance from me.
The only thing that I am still obligated to pay for (kind of), is the car insurance that automatically comes out of my paycheck every week. Which is why two weeks ago I took her to our Secretary of State and signed the car title over to her. Which means I am NOT obligated to have insurance on the car I gave her. But she sure is. That also means I can cancel the insurance tomorrow if I choose to do so.
She has her Senior prom tomorrow. She graduates in 4 weeks. I keep telling her to focus on school; not on how fast she can be a grown-ass adult and living on her own.
So the drama continues. I honestly hope that she is still living in this house when she graduates. Because if she isn’t, I am probably not likely to host her open house the weekend after.
Yes; I am a bad Mom.
I do not care.
I swear to goodness if one more of my children asks me for one tiny thing, my head is going to explode.
I hate seeing I have a message or missed call on my phone. Because I start wondering what one of my kids is asking me for. And 99% of the time, that is exactly what it is.
Yes, I gave birth to them.
No, they did not ask to be born. And when one of them had the nerve to say that to me? My reply was, “It is a good thing you did not ask to be born; because the answer would have been no!”
This sense of entitlement is literally driving me mad, and I am partially responsible for it. Being a single parent with 4 daughters, it was, and still is, hard to fight a specific battle with each specific child every day. Sometimes I gave in. And now I am paying for it.