Wednesday, 7/7/21
I'm not really sure what to write about today. I'm just trying to be better about writing more often, rather than when I'm in a crisis or really need to vent (which is helpful).
I told Garrett last night that Madeline got hired at Mama Ds – and has already started working there. He seemed miffed that I didn't tell him sooner. I couldn't really say “well yeah, because the day she got hired you were in another one of your nasty moods.” Instead I just said something vague about things getting a little crazy. So now he knows and can start looking for things to attack.
The other day I let it slip that I'm thinking about getting a new bike for Madeline. (Actually, I told her I would go halves with her on one, if she plans to keep riding after she has her license.) The one she has been riding is falling apart, though he insists it's perfectly fine. It's also way too small for her. It's a kid's bike and she's my height now (5'6” – for reference, I ride a 29” bike because a normal size is too small for my legs). She's been saying the chain keeps falling off, she has to pedal really fast to go anywhere, and she won't shift gears because it “shakes”. I took it for a spin the other day, and sure enough. The whole thing is practically rusted out. My knees were practically to my ribs riding it. I adjusted the seat height, which helped a little. I also discovered that the rear brake wasn't working – barely touched. I asked her how she stops and she said she uses the front brake and/or comes to a stop really slowly (eek). I wasn't really sure how to adjust the rear brake, but when I was looking over it, a wire fell off in my hand – just frayed right off. Turned out to be not a big deal – just the end of the brake line – but still, if the end is in that condition how is the rest of the line? So after that conversation he made a point to work on her bike and made sure I knew it. Claims he fixed it, and it should be running fine now. I haven't tried it out yet. During one of his recent tantrums he started complaining about where she puts her bike in the garage (blamed her for knocking over Zach's fishing poles, claims she leaves it in the way of everything, etc.). I told him nobody knows where to put the bikes, myself included. There's no space along the walls or ceiling to hang them, and there's stuff everywhere. Things are frequently getting shuffled around in the garage. “Oh, so that has to be MY responsibility?” Um, as a matter of fact, yes. The garage is “his” space. Nothing is ever put away in there – and it's all his. With the exception of my bike and Madeline's bike. So then he demanded that she keep hers outside in the backyard.
“No.” (more like hell no!)
“She WILL keep her bike in the backyard.”
“NO!”
“Oh, so I don't have any say around here!”
(Here we go ...)
I informed him if it got left outside it would get rained on and rusted (which is exactly how it ended up in the state it is now) and ruined.
I just need to get her a bike of her own, before he decides to use that as leverage against her and take it away (just like he did with the fish tank). I believe it used to be Zach's many years ago when he was little. Obviously he's outgrown it, even though he's not much taller than her – if at all. Maybe today I'll get some racks and clear some space to hang them up.
Last week Zach left his work boots out in the rain. Had to wear his sneakers to work because his boots were still soaked. I noticed that they looked really small and looked at the size. 8 ½ and bursting at the seams. I KNOW he doesn't wear an 8 ½. Garrett has no idea what size he wears. I did because I bought him winter boots several months ago, but asked again just to be sure. 10 ½. Two full sizes too small. Turns out he's had those boots for five years. FIVE years! No wonder he's been complaining so much about his back hurting! So I asked some questions, did some research, and bought him a new pair of work boots. He was surprised and grateful. I know he's 18 now and has a job and can buy his own shoes, but ... his dad has not bought him a pair of shoes since he was 13 years old. For fucking shame. He seems to really like them. I hope I did okay.
I keep forgetting that Zach has been taught NOT to ask when he needs something. I struggle with this with grocery shopping. I keep a shopping list on the fridge and several times have asked everyone to write on the list when they notice something is out or running low. But Zach won't.* If it's there he'll use it, but if not he'll just make do. It's frustrating because I'll go shopping, then come back and discover several more things that I need to get and have to go shopping again. But Garrett calls my shopping list a “wish list” and gets mad at Madeline for writing on it. He feels that children should just be grateful for what they are given. I believe that children should be provided for, and everyone should feel comfortable speaking up when they need something – or when something bothers them, for that matter. But that will take us to a whole new rant about how Garrett is the only one who is allowed to complain about anything. Anyone else – especially me – that says anything when something bothers them is “ungrateful,” “spoiled,” “never happy,” or “complains too much.” Oh, and a “bitch” and “cunt.” Can't forget his favorites. The end result: he gets to do whatever he wants and walk all over me.
*Neither does Garrett, but that's just because he's lazy and takes for granted that I follow him around picking up after him and making sure he has everything he needs. I'm not even exaggerating. A few weeks ago he ran out of deodorant and just stopped wearing it until I noticed and went out and bought him some. This place would seriously be in shambles if it wasn't for me. Pretty sure his mom comes over and cleans and shops for him when he's single.
So Winnie is in heat again, which means we all (mostly me) should be careful to keep the dogs separated. At least until today – Ruger is scheduled to be neutered. Yesterday I went out for a few hours to take Madeline to her driving lesson, then robotics. We left Ruger in the kennel and Winnie had her diaper on. When I got back a few hours later both were out and Winnie had slipped out of her diaper. Of course I have to tell Garrett, because there's no doubt in my mind they did the deed and this time Ruger is definitely mature enough to procreate. Problem is, I can't ever tell him anything without him 1) getting angry, and 2) looking for someone to blame.
E: I need to tell you something without you getting angry or blaming someone
G: What happened?
E: When I left today Ruger was in his kennel and Winnie had her diaper on. When I got back both were out and her diaper wasn't on.
G: Oh Great.
G: How did Ruger get out of his kennel?
E: I have no idea.
He didn't outright get mad or play the blame game, but later he made a point to specifically show me how to latch the door on the kennel.
E: I know how to latch the kennel
G: Well, how did he get out then?
E: I don't know, I wasn't here when it happened.
So internally he's blamed me by deciding I didn't close the kennel properly. Even though we both know how absurd that is, and he has no evidence or reason to believe I did anything wrong.