Down For The Count

Last week, Dallas and I learned that manchild had given up his apartment and moved back in with his enabling kook of a mother, which likely made her happy in a twisted, self-serving way. To swoop in like a martyr, ostensibly, to pick up the pieces and indulge manchild in the fantasy that life hasn't handed him a fair shake; well that kind of drama is what puts the skip in her step. She provides a world where there is no personal accountability and where problems can be eradicated by swinging a pendulum or placing a crystal in just the right household location. The situation is impossible and I have come to despise her. It is one thing to march to her own off tempo drumbeat but to cast manchild and teenage daughter as leading roles in her personal Heart of Darkness play is criminal.

Dallas has a much better attitude, which I find really remarkable. Like me, he finds the situation heartbreaking but somehow, he manages not to obsess. I, on the other hand, feel like we need to be doing SOMETHING.

We also learned recently that manchild's Japanese fiancée (a term that we politely accepted a year ago in a tongue-in-cheek-aw-shucks-ain't-that-cute-way until it wasn't so fricking cute) is coming for a visit in late October.

And.they.plan.on.getting.married.

And then new wife is going to go back to Japan for an unspecified period of time, probably to pack.

Whatever.

How do you get through to a nineteen year old, employed in a minimum wage job and now living with his unemployed mother and unemployed sister, that the marriage smells a lot like a Japanese girl's ticket to American residency? How do you protect him from himself? How do you tell him that the only reason his mother is supporting this marriage is because she wants to be the antithesis of his father, who has expressed grave concerns?

"We need to stop him, Dallas. This is insanity." I've said.

"We can't control him. This is his life. These are his mistakes. I've given him my opinion." he answered.

"I don't think we are doing enough," I countered.

He asked,

"Are you prepared to have manchild or teenage daughter come and live with us again?" (Nothing like a metaphoric bucket of cold water to snap my controlling ass to attention)

Inside my mind, I FREAKED (a little) at the thought of repeating all of that dysfunctional drama. It was a difficult, stress-infused year and I wasn't interested in revisiting any of it anytime soon.

I answered,

"No."

And with that, I threw in my towel.