Glen

Well my washing machine died the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and today it got fixed.  Let me say it got fixed after the repairman flooded my floor...but it got fixed.  Oh dear God you wouldn't believe the mess! 

Okay perhaps you would, but I sure wouldn't.

I spent the day just picking up the "snow" around my house.  By "snow" I mean all the pieces of Glen's pull ups he keeps ripping up.  Oh the joy of it all.  Of course five minutes after he came home, there was a pile more.   Oh I'm so tired of it all.  But what are you going to do?

I had kind a kind of sad phone call today.  I talked to a man about placement for Glen when he turns 18.  My baby is leaving home. 

Let me say here, no one will love Glen more than I do.  NO ONE!  But I just can't handle him any more.  I am too damn tired of his temper and never knowing when I'm going to get my ass kicked by my own son.  If he was "normal" I would have put him in a boot camp for troubled teens at this point.  Or in Jail. 

I can't take the never knowing when he is going to attack me, or what he is going to destroy.  I am tired of clean up after him, and being screamed out when I ask him to pick up his mess.

But I'm going to miss his laugh, I'm going to miss his goofiness.  I'm going to miss seeing him excited about some trip to a place he likes to go too.  I am going to miss seeing him every morning. 

I love my Glen, but he is too much for my old bones.  Perhaps if I find him someplace he is happy it will make this easier.  Perhaps.....