The Joys of Life: Part 4

This is a retelling of events that have already happened...

Previously on The Joys of Life:
Asshole needs to get back to Philly
MIL loans him the money for a bus.

I took Kirsten to my Mother in law's house to pick up the money. I didn't want to do it. I haven't seen MIL in a couple of years. We previously had a falling out, which I will not get into here. I must say she was very supportive and friendly. My husband had kept her informed about what was going on, including the missing pain killers. While I was there she gave me a peace offering to pass along to my husband. A baggie of vicodin to replace what was taken, and, she said "To keep him from killing the Asshole."

Hubby and I laughed about it. There was no way he would go through 50 vicodin. But he was grateful because he could use at least a couple. He tucked them into the drawer of his bedside table.

Sunday afternoon, hubby took Asshole to the bus station. My youngest, Itty Bit, had a playdate at a friends house around the corner. Hubby stopped by a friends house on his way home from the bus station. I had to go to work, so I left DQ and Brian home with Kirsten, with the understanding that hubby would be home shortly.

Well hubby got home to find DQ watching TV, Kirsten passed out on the couch, and Brian was no where to be found. He asked DQ where he was. He was supposed to be outside playing. Hubby couldn't find him. He had a good idea of where he might be though.
When we made plans for Itty Bit's playdate, he kept saying he was going down there too. The child's mother did not want him down there. Her son was not going to be home. And this was supposed to be something special for Itty Bit and her friend. I told him, my husband told him, and his mother told him, he was not going down there on Sunday. We had to keep telling him, because he was convinced he was going to call down to see if the son was home, and go play with him.
So when hubby couldn't find him, he called down to their house, and low and behold... Brian was there. Didn't tell anyone he was going. Just left the house and walked through the neighborhood to the friends house. After he had been told repeatedly not to. Hubby told him to get his ass home. The friends mother never thought to call, because she knows, my kids won't go anywhere without asking me. She assumed we knew.

When I got home from work and hubby told me about it, my blood pressure went through the roof. I went out and called him to tell his mother what he had done while she was asleep on the couch. He tried to tell half truths, but I made him fess up. She sent him to his room for the rest of the night. Which worked for me. I was going to have all the kids at my house for a sleep over. Including a movie and popcorn and smores and he was going to miss out. Maybe he would get the message?
He whined and carried on and she gave in. All I heard was "if you don't stay in there now, you won't get to watch the movie." Um... NO! So I called her out. And explained why that was not a good idea. Told her to blame it on Aunt Missy, but he could not watch the movie.

Later when Asshole called to say he was in Philly, she told him what had happened, and that he was in his room. I could hear that Asshole was mad that his son was being punished. She was trying to explain it, and getting cut off at every corner. I mean really, how is that OK with him? My kids would have been grounded for a week!

After that my house saw a measure of peace for the first time in weeks. When Brian misbehaved, my husband stepped in to reprimand him... and he listened. Brian did what my husband and I told him to do, at least in the moment that we told him to do it. There wasn't as much throwing himself around, and there was NO "I'm telling Daddy." I kept reminding my girls, if there was a problem they have to come tell me about it. My oldest, DQ, was ready to pound this kid into the floor. She is sick and tired of him picking on the little kids.

Asshole was supposed to come back Monday night. But he called to say he wasn't going to make the 3pm bus. He called later to say he was mistaken about a 6pm bus. Then he called again to say he was just going to wait until Tuesday morning, rather than catch the 11pm bus.
Monday evening, Kirsten started going through, what I can only assume, was withdrawls. She was complaining that she was cold and all of her joints hurt. She wanted some of my husbands pain pills. Instead I went out and got her aspirin. She took it and said it helped a little. An hour later she was throwing her guts up in the bathroom.

Tuesday came around and he called again from Philly to say he was getting on the 3pm bus. Hubby got home early from work. He called me into our bedroom. "Where were you today?" he asked. "Well I was here all day." "Where was my sister?" "Why?" I asked "Because I am missing a bunch of Vicodin!" "Well she asked to use the computer in the morning to look for employment. I tried to hover but the kids kept fighting. I suppose the could have taken some when I was back with the kids."

He noticed that the bottle looked light, so he counted. ELEVEN. As best he could tell, there were 11 missing. We decided to confront her. He brought her into our bedroom and asked her. The moment she said "I don't know" he started screaming. I was in the living room with the kids, playing Wii. I had them shut it off and go play in the back bedroom. Then I went in to make sure he didn't choke her. (He wouldn't do that. But he was so angry, I thought I should be there.)

In the middle of all this I had to get up to check on the kids, who were all screaming at each other. I walked in to hear Brian tell me "Itty Bit smacked me across the face." Now I always ask everyone in the room, what their side of the story is. That way everyone has a chance to say their piece, and I can get a better idea of what actually happened. The short of it was that he was torturing her and she had had enough, and slapped him. I thought to myself 'good for you girl'. But she still had to be in trouble for hitting him. Which sucks, because she has NEVER hit another child like that. Not since she was old enough to know that hitting is not nice. I sent her to time out. Then I looked at Brian and said "You are going to stop torturing these kids. Yes she should not have hit you, but you deserved it. YOU are going to start following my rules now. And I don't give a damn what your Daddy has to say on the subject!"

When I got back to our bedroom, he was still chewing her out. Telling her how shit was going to change. Trying to convey the amount of stress having them here has put on our household. When he was done, I tried to be the voice of reason. I asked her "Do you love this man? Are you determined to stay with him?" She said yes. I told her "You are not the strong woman I met years ago. The last time I saw you, you would never have let a man tell you to shut up. He treats you like crap. Like a second class citizen. And how your OK with that I don't know." She started to cry. Then I told her "The reason your son treats you like crap is because his father has shown him that it's OK." There was a lot said that afternoon, and I really wanted to believe her. I want her to succeed. I want her to get rid of the man who has her hooked on drugs, and at his beck and call. I want her to dream again. To want better for herself and her kid.

Next time on The Joys of Life:
The Asshole returns
& Momma puts her foot down.