Yesterday, I went to Pancho's for an afternoon beer with a friend and I got Tacos al Carbon to go. The Daddler really likes them. They're cheap and it's enough for two. So I fixed our plates and I sat in the living room with him and we ate together and watched the ballgame. We both love baseball, and since I'm usually half-watching (I was reading a magazine, too), I ask him what's going on and he likes to do color.
I'd made a sincere apology to The D in the morning. Told him that I was sorry I'd hollered at him. That I was disrespectful. He said it was ok. And meant it.
So after sleeping a good eight hours, sans nightmares, I felt so much stronger. Kiddo reported to work around 10 - I've asked him to help me with some basic, but important tasks with my client work. I've been working on a sales tax schedule and need to finish it this week. It's a big chore. I do it on Excel, and use formulas, but it requires thinking about each transaction and whether sales tax was paid and at what rate. It's a huge value-add, though, because the deduction using actual instead of the IRS table is much higher.
I won't go into any more details. I'll just say that coming up with the formula involved a little algebra and since Kiddo took AP Calculus, he said I should just let him do the calculation. I explained that if he'd said that to a boss, he'd have been fired. That he needed to watch and learn, and not try to tell his boss how to do things, unless asked. He argued. I told him to pretend I was another adult, and speak to me accordingly. Somehow, he wasn't capable of doing this. We went round and round. Then his father appeared. I don't know why. I told him he needed to be involved in this discussion. He said had to go. I told him there was nothing more important than this. I explained our son's disrespectful attitude. How he'd depleted my patience and caused me to lose my temper with The D. That he was totally insensitive about the stress I am under. And that I was on the verge of sending him to live with his dad. As usual, it was the dear in the headlights look from the baby daddy. I said something I've said before. That our son could call me a fuckin' bitch and his dad wouldn't have said a thing. Of course, no one calls me names, and I would've opened a major can of whoop-ass on him. But the point is that I get absofuckinlutely no support with discipline.
Somehow, I managed to stay rational. I fired kiddo and told him he could forget about my giving him my car.
And we figured out the formula together. Proved it. Talked about exceptions to the rule. And I left him to it. Hit the pavement for a run.
I'm happy to report that I ran, without stopping, a whole 22 minutes. Up from 12 minutes yesterday. Major progress. It was hot and I sweated profusely. I love it. I do better with my exercise when it's hot. I think my muscles are more limber. When I got back, I sat next to Sly and the Family Fern and communed with nature. While I hydrated. And soaked in a little sun.
I checked on my employee's progress. I was pleased that he'd stayed with it and had made a list of questions. He was actually thinking. He said he was done. I said, "Don't you mean you're taking a break?" He did. Didn't argue.
Then I fixed The D lunch. Vegetable beef stew my friend Helen had fixed as a housewarming gift. Plus a corn muffin, fruit and yogurt. I asked him how he liked the soup and he said, "It tastes pretty good." Which for him, is raving. I'll be sure to include that in my thank you note.
So, I'm happy with my progress. So happy, in fact, that I'm gonna head outside and plant some things. Prune some shrubs (very good therapy for me). Maybe mow the back yard. Take my watercolors to the patio and paint.
Then I'll head inside, take a nice shower, and do some more client work. Do some organizing. Work on getting my other two computers set up with the wireless router. So much. Oh, I need to do April billing, too.
On that note, I'll close here and get busy. And continue to make progress...
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