Rude Rednecks

Last night, I was minding my own business, watching my soaps that I had taped during the day, (I tape them so I can watch in PEACE) when there was a knock at the door.

It was J., S.R.’s boyfriend. S.R. had already gone to bed. I thought she was still awake so I went and told her he was here. She went outside with him and I didn’t know what was going on, so being concerned about my daughter I went outside. My son, C.F. and his friend A.S. were already outside.

Apparently, J. came with a friend of his to clean out the camper (haha, that was destroyed by the storm the previous night) so they were out there salvaging his stuff. OK, fine.

The thing is, S.R. told him about it early that day when she realized the camper had been damaged. He should have come during the day, not at night. It was almost 11 pm. My dad had already gone to bed and they were outside making all kinds of noise. Slamming and banging. Dropping and pounding. It was very rude of them to even show up this late. Rednecks. They haven’t got a clue.

The day before yesterday, they showed up during the day to drop some of J.’s stuff off at the camper BUT the losers decided to just drive through the yard, through the garden area and all the way around the back…without even asking if it was ok. Granted, we live out in the country but we like our yard to look half way decent.

S.R. says “Mom normal people don’t think about things like that.”

I said, “NO! Rednecks don’t think about things like that. Normal people don’t drive through other people’s yards!” Needless to say, she was pissed at me, yet again!

I should have expected that they would show up late and make all that racket. I sure as hell can’t expect common decency! I sure hope S.R. comes to her senses soon before I go completely gray and end up in a nuthouse.

The Fractured Hand

I was on my computer last Friday afternoon, trying to get some work done. I was a day behind due to the fact that I had to take my daughter to her Drs. appointment on Thursday. Both of the kids (adult kids, that is) were home that day. My son was suppose to work that evening so he was killing some time. I think he watched a movie and played some video games. You know, typical young male activities.

I heard a commotion in the living room and I was due for a break anyway, so I decided to go see what all the ruckus was about. My son was laughing his ass off! My daughter was cracking up, too.

I asked, “What’s going on?”

C.F. says to me calmly, “You don’t want to know.”

I asked, “What did you do?”

He replies, “You don’t want to know.”

I asked, “Did you hurt yourself?” (Remembering the dirt bike incident here and how scared I was that something may have happened to him.)

He held his right hand up and there it was. He broke his freakin’ hand. Immediately my hands went up to my face in shock…. fear…. worry…. well, I don’t know what it was.

I said, “I have to take you to the hospital.”

He agrees, “YES, you do!” All the while laughing like a nutcase.

Apparently, he knocked down a little shelf in his room. This shelf holds a few of his model cars that he worked so hard on. The shelf fell, and everything on it hit the floor. C.F. was mad that this happened and then he punched the wall! He has punched the wall before and left a hole. No injury to himself, thank goodness. This time, there were 2 little knuckle marks on the wall but no hole. He hit the stud this time. I think he may have learned a lesson.

I took him to the ER at the hospital I thought was the best choice. It was closest for one thing, but I didn’t like the other choice. The hospital I chose was in Arkansas, not too far from where we live in Missouri. Now my son has Missouri Medicaid and I always assumed this hospital accepted Medicaid. Turns out the hospital itself DOES accept Medicaid but the Drs. do not accept Missouri Medicaid, specifically.

Great. Now C.F. will get a bill from every freakin’ Dr. that even looked at him cross-eyed that day.

Well, a lot of good it did for me to take him to the emergency room. They looked him over, x-rayed and splinted his hand, wrapped it up and put it in a sling. They gave him a referral to see an orthopedic surgeon and a script for vicoden and sent us on our way.

This being Friday, I couldn’t contact the surgeon until Monday morning.

On Monday morning I called the surgeon’s office.

“Hello. Dr. Moore’s office. Can I help you?” She sounded very nice.”

“Yes,” I said. “Does Dr. Moore accept Missouri Medicaid?”

She said, “No, I’m sorry he doesn’t.”

I explained the situation to her. I asked if I needed a referral to see an orthopedic surgeon.

She said, “Oh, No Ma’am. The only reason Dr. Moore was referred is because he was the surgeon on call that night.”

When I got off the phone, I got to thinking. If he was on call that night then why didn’t they call him to look at C.F.’s hand? It would have saved us a lot of grief.

I called a few other surgeons in Missouri — I was told I needed a referral BUT they didn’t have any openings at all for a couple weeks. One said none until next month. So, I figured I’d take C.F. to a different Dr. and get a new referral. I thought that having the Dr. make the calls we would get an appointment much sooner.

Boy! Was I wrong! It has been 6 days since C.F. fractured his hand and we are still waiting for an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon! It’s a good thing he’s not in a lot of pain! I don’t know what to do at this point. I have been calling the Dr’s. office, consistently since Tuesday morning trying to light a fire under them. They say they’re still working on it. What do I have to do to get my child medical attention? Since it has been this long, the bone has probably started to heal which means it will have to be rebroken in order to set it correctly.

I understand the surgeons are probably booked up but don’t they leave emergency spots open for emergencies?? Of course, this is hardly an emergency but he does need medical attention!

C.F. can’t do anything. He is bored to death. He can’t go to work. He can’t play his guitar, which is his life, he can’t play video games or even use the computer comfortably.

After all is said and done….if it ever gets done that is………I think he may have learned a lesson.

Loser Boyfriend Syndrome

Yeah. Loser Boyfriend Syndrome. Been there, done that. Many women have experienced this. Many will experience it sometime in their future. I think if you never experience this then you are one of the luckiest women on the face of this planet!

My experience started back when I was 20 years old. At the time I had no idea my boyfriend would be the biggest loser that ever lived. I see my daughter making the same stupid mistake that I made all those years ago. You see, she has a loser boyfriend.

He’s almost 10 years older than she is. She’s 21. He’s 30.

He’s married and has been for quite some time, to the same woman.

He has kids. 4 kids to be exact. All girls. All with the same woman.

The wife kicked him out. They were supposedly having problems anyway but who knows….. He had no place to live. My daughter wanted him to stay with us. No freakin’ way! We gave him a place on our property to put his old camper so he would have a place to stay. He’s never there. He’s always kissing his wife’s ass.

He was in jail for drug possession. He faces other criminal charges such as possession (again) and theft of a lap top from Walmart. Let’s not forget domestic violence, which has been debunked as just the wife wanting to screw him over. Supposedly.

He is a drug addict. (Recovering, supposedly.)

He had a job but purposely got fired so he could get unemployment. (Although months later, he still hadn’t applied for unemployment!)

He has no vehicle. A motorcycle he borrowed from his brother is his only trasportation at the moment, which he has wrecked more times than I can remember.

He knocked up my daughter. I know she had some say in this too. That doesn’t excuse the fact that he should’ve been a bit more in control considering he has 4 other children to support. He is still unemployed even though my daughter’s baby is due Oct. 29. He’s looking for them a place to live. Yeah right. How can he find a place to live without a job? Oh he’s working on it I’m told. Sure.

He bought a motorcycle from some lady. He’s suppose to take over payments. How is he to do that if he doesn’t have a job?

He borrows his wife’s car so he can go to his court dates and so he can hang out with his friends, come over and see my daughter — once in awhile. Sometimes he even takes her with him! Woo Hoo! Then the very next day, when my daughter has a Dr. appt. he conveniently can’t get the car from his wife. Very convenient. That’s ok because mom (ME) will take her.

He’s always spending time with his kids……which is fantastic YES. He should be spending time with his children. But those kids are always with their mother, his wife. Is he only spending time with the kids? I think not.

He hasn’t been ‘living’ in his camper for several weeks. Where is he staying? My daughter says he’s “spending time with his kids” but I can read between the lines. He’s staying with his wife.

When he has been around here, my daughter fixes him food and takes it out to the camper to him. He won’t come in the house and be social at all or show any appreciation that we have given him a place to stay! I wish they would just put his ass in jail, where he belongs. The longer, the better. Maybe that way my daughter will forget about his sorry ass and move on. If he doesn’t go to jail, he will end up going back to his wife because and MARK MY WORDS he will go back to her because it will be easier to pay child support on one child rather than 4!

Being A Grandmother

I don’t know if I’m ready to be a Grandmother. I’m only 46. Shouldn’t I be older? I think I will be Aunt Debbie instead. I’ve been Aunt Debbie for a very long time. It just seems natural.

I think I’m a good aunt. My nieces and nephews all think I am! In fact, they think I walk on water! Will I be a good Grandmother? I don’t know. I think I will be a better Grandmother when my daughter finally decides to move out!

My daughter and I butt heads too much the way things are right now. Two adult females in the same house just doesn’t work well many times. This is one of those times. I’m afraid that the longer she stays here, the further apart we’ll become. I don’t want that. I want us to always be close.

I think I’ve been a good mother.

I know I’ve been a good aunt.

I want to be a good grandmother.