This morning my oldest son returned home after a month in the county pay-to-stay misdemeanor jail. He got drunk and shoplifted a beer (and the little nit had money in his pocket when he did it!). Someone in the prosecutor's office decided to give him a break, and instead of a stint in the county pokey he got to go to the 'offender's country club', and, most importantly, he decided to try the alcohol rehab classes they offered. He said that when he woke in jail, he had no idea how he got there. That scared him. It scared him more when he found out that he could have paid for the beer he nicked! I don't know how forthright and open he was to the concept. We haven't talked seriously since before the first class.
He got here early enough to tussle and schmooze with Little Dark before school, and is getting ready to go do necessary follow-up business right now. I confess I am not in a hurry to bring the subject up. This is the first time he's ever acknowledged a problem with alcohol; I don't want to shove if that will get his back up. But I know that unless he deals with this thing now, we can't continue to live with its effects.
There are a lot of other highly stressful things going on in our household right now (and what else is new for the Darks?). This may end up being another one. Hear that sound? It's those dang dice rollin&tumblin again... this morning I woke with a raging headache and my head was full of what I thought was the Trumps of Doom, but turned out to be just a physical sympathetic vibration with those tricky dice. I'm sleepy and stupid and nauseous and getting an ear infection. My husband is in Florida for job training and I miss him. My house is chaos. I'm mondo broke. AAARRGH!!!
And all I can think of is cooking a fatted calf and getting all goofy because all my kids are safe at home.
Now if my hubby were home it would be a perfect day.
Grinning over her barfbag,
Mommie