My ex-wife’s son is back to living with my son and I. Though I am trying to do my best to remain positive about this, I remain skeptical. I would like to believe that his intentions are to do the best he can to get back into life, back into school, and succeed, there is the lingering thought that I am going to be taken advantage of. It is my nature to help out as much as I can. To give “one more chance” way more than I really should. To be hopeful that everything will turn out for the better. I cannot turn him away.
Part of me feels that have been deceived. From talking to him and talking to his grandmother, I got an impression that he had really turned things around. Had taken it upon himself to start working on independent classes to get back into school, and was on the right track. I was willing to give things another try if he was willing to try as well. I set some ground rules such as going to school AND passing. Otherwise he was going to be working and paying rent. Respecting the house as well as the people in it. And a few other basics we had issues with. He arrived on a plane today. But over the course of the few minutes that I’ve spent with him so far as well as the brief chat I had on the phone with his grandmother, I begin to wonder if anything had really changed. I get hints here and there that it had not and in fact perhaps they thought convincing me to let him come back would change things. If he is really on the right path, I think that is awesome. If not, we are both out of options. I agreed to be a guardian to him again, get him back into school, and provide a roof and food once more.
We talked about the friends he was hanging out with before and how I had issues with them and how I was not willing to put my career in jeopardy over trying to get him to school. We talked about what it takes to make a household function. How it was not just me trying to stay on top of everything, but that he was old enough to have responsibility in this as well. The law is that it is my house, my rules. It’s not a democracy. I can negotiate on some things, but if I decide on something, that is it.
A major problem before was that during the marriage to his mother, he was taught that I was the one who was responsible for everything. The cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, everything. After his mother and I divorced, she continued to reinforce that by telling him that he didn’t have to do anything I said because I wasn’t his father. We came to a head that almost started a physical fight. It ended shortly after he challenged me to a fight and I pinned him to the wall and threw him on the floor.
I had almost lost my job because I was missing key meetings because he was missing the bus so I had to take him to school. I HAD to take him to school because we already had a truancy meeting about his attendance. He was skipping school. He was throwing his garbage from his room into the hallway and trashing the house in general. He would miss dinner, then wake me up at 1am when he was hungry and demand to fix him something or go get something because there was nothing in the house he liked. There was plenty of food he could have fixed for himself, but didn’t want to. Missing the toilet when going to the bathroom. All guys miss and make a mess, but he was outright urinating ON THE FLOOR not hitting the toilet at all. Flushing was out of the question. These were just a few of the things over one week that almost brought us to blows.
I got up from pinning him down. I told him it was my house. He had no rights here. No I wasn’t his father, but if he chose to live here, he would live by my rules. He chose to go to his mothers.
The conflict didn’t end there. Shortly after him getting to his mothers house, she called me and said she was going to call the police if I didn’t take him back. I bluntly told her that if he wasn’t willing to straighten up I didn’t want him back. Her response was that he wasn’t my son and that I had no say in it. I said “yep, you are right. He’s not my son. It is my house though. If he comes back and he doesn’t live by my rules, this will happen again. Go ahead and call the police.” and I hung up on her.
After a short period, he did come back, but again problems ensued. He went back to her house, then a shelter when she went into the hospital, then he flew to his grandparents house. He’s been there for several months. Now he’s back here.
So I am skeptical. I don’t know if how things went at their house were all painted rosy or not. I don’t know how things will be going forward from here. I’m guarded. He turns 18 this July. If things don’t work out, what is he going to do after that? In a way, I am more worried for him than I am for myself over the next few months.