Did you know that Ghost came out 27 years ago today? That’s a fucking long time ago, isn’t it? All of a sudden I feel much older. So old. Groan. I’m only 31. I was only three or four years old when that movie came out. What a classic though. I just wanted to start today’s blog post with a fun fact. The rest of this post won’t be as much fun.
I was hated today. I’m still hated. Bear’s Son, who I shall call BS for the rest of this post, hates me today. We’ve had our first real falling out. We’ve had a few arguments recently, but only where I’ve backed up Bear’s side of the fight and BS expected otherwise. Today, however, I couldn’t get over how rude he was being, not just to Bear, but to me also. I had to say something, I live here too.
I’ve been listening to the pair of them fighting like cat and dog for months now and I’ve always tried to stay out of it. It’s a sensitive area … he’s not my kid, and it would more than likely break my heart if he were to ever say that to me. I don’t know the rules? I love him. I don’t know if I love him as much as a mother would love her own son, because I don’t have kids, but I do know that I would run in front of a bus to save that boy. That’s what made today quite the unexpected kick in the teeth.
He’s lost four or five phones over the last couple of years. He’s lost two, I’m sure, since Bear and I have been together, and that’s been less than a year. Bear couldn’t afford to buy him yet another brand new iPhone-whatever once again, so I managed to get my hands on a relatively decent Samsung to replace the last one. It was better than the phone BS actually lost.
He lost that replacement phone today. He thinks he left it in someone’s car, but it was that person’s fault, not his, because he’s a snotty teenager. We tried to explain to him that it didn’t matter whether or not the phone was moved from one seat to another, it was still his responsibility to make sure he had it when he got out of the car. If he’d checked for just TWO seconds he would have realised he didn’t have the phone. And you know what it’s like when a teenager loses their phone: we might as well cut his arm off and be done with it, it’s *that* dramatic. To be fair, I’m *that* dramatic when I lose my phone too.
Even after we explained, it still wasn’t his fault. Nope. He was having none of it. Just like the other phones he’d lost too, it was always someone else’s fault. I wish I could be a teenager again … blameless, faultless, responsibility-less.
I know a few grown-ass men like that too, in all fairness.
BS DID manage to remember to bring home the brand hew Playstation 4 he’d been given though. Convenient, right?
We took the Playstation off him as punishment. We didn’t take his Xbox away, though. We left that there, but we took the controls for it, the lead that plugs it in, and the headset he uses to communicate with his friends. It was my idea. Why? Because I’m gettin’ really bored of buying stuff for that kid, for him to think he can just throw it away and not give a shit about it. He has us both wrapped around his little finger, and I love our little family but sometimes they BOTH take it too far. I am on BS’s side more often than not, and that’s what annoys me so much about today: he knows I would only be on “Dad’s side” if that side really was the right one, so for him to give me that much attitude …. nah. Sorry. That’s bullshit. I’ve always had his back.
I watch Bear struggle financially to ensure that lad has everything he wants because he’s a good father. That’s what he’s meant to do. He’s meant to go without and he does. I’m the same to some extent because I would much rather BS had the things he wanted. He’s a good kid, for the most part, but his attitude has turned into something else entirely recently. It’s much worse than mine was at that age, I’m sure of it.
Screaming and shouting at us, telling us we were wrong and he was right, I had to separate Bear and BS at one point, taking a hot drink to them both and carting Bear off into another room. I can’t just sit there and listen to them screaming at each other. It’s distracting, I couldn’t get any work done, and I can’t stand screaming people. I’m an abuse survivor (if that’s what you like to call it) and that means you need to make a couple of special allowances for me. One of them is that you can’t shout at me or around me. I don’t shout in an argument with someone and I get massively upset when someone shouts at me. It turns me into a whimpering mess. I wait for a punch in the face that I know won’t come but for some reason, I still expect. If there are loud, shouting voices in a fight anywhere near me, I’ll be the one in the toilet, hands over my ears, trying to pretend it’s not happening. Probably crying. More than likely rocking away. I hate it. Loud, shouting voices really does something to me. Not a good something.
Bear had to go out for a few hours and he tried to get BS to apologise to me before he left, but he was having none of it. The kid wouldn’t even look at me. He was really mad at me because I took away his toys. Good. Be mad. I do feel guilty and like I want to give in and give the toys back, but how many more phones are we expected to buy him? Come on. It’s one each now … and Bear doesn’t have the funds to keep replacing them every five minutes. It’ll be me putting my hand in my pocket next time, again, which I don’t mind doing, but I’m certainly not impressed at the thought of being ignored, hated, and thought of as “Bad Cop” while I’m doing it!
We got the phone back in the end, but it was Bear and I sorting it out, trying to figure out how to track it and where to find it. The kid wasn’t really bothered about finding it in the slightest. It made me wonder if it had been deliberately left behind, in a bid to get a better phone out of the deal.
Bear doesn’t really discipline BS when he does something wrong. I’m shocked by that, but I do understand why. The pair of them have been through so much stuff together, very little of it good stuff, so I’m not surprised they’re both very guarded. Bear is so desperate to keep the kid on side, he won’t ever tell him off. Every telling-off is met by a grovelling apology and the problem is never resolved. We go around and round in circles, having the same arguments over and over again.
Lost phones are replaced. Laundry is still left until 10 pm on a Sunday night, even though we tell the kid EVERY week that he needs to bring it to us on Friday when he gets home from school. His attitude improves one minute, when he wants something, and then goes dramatically downhill the next when he doesn’t.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I try to be fair, unbiased, and more than anything, NOT involved, but it’s kinda hard to do that when they’re screaming in each other’s faces right in front of me. I’m royally pissed off that the kid has got the cheek to be angry and refuse to talk / apologise to me. I’ve always had his back, even giving Bear a telling-off when I feel he’s been unfair to the lad. I’ve bought him everything he’s needed, from trainers to school trousers, Xbox games and controllers, you name it. When Bear hasn’t been able to pick up the pieces financially, I have. And I have never complained about it. Not once. I won’t complain about it either. This stuff I’m writing, well, this is where it’ll stay. I can’t say this stuff to anyone. I’m not a parent, and I feel like a bit of a dickhead for having gotten involved in the first place, but I live here. The kid asked me to move in, just as Bear did. It was quite cute really.
And now I’m just a wicked stepmother.
To all parents – You are amazing.
To my parents – I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.
To me, if I ever become a parent – Good fucking luck.