I had arranged to take A’s pictures myself at the request of A – since he decided the cost of senior pictures was better spent on car insurance. At some secret time and location he had asshat’s girlfriend do pictures for him also. I found out because he changed his FB profile picture to one she’d taken. Immediately I felt offended and angry. Who the fuck is she to be doing this with my kid? Then I felt disappointed that he, for whatever reason, didn’t tell me about this. He could have just said that he’d asked her to do it. I likely would have been ok with it since I found the whole process to be frustrating and time consuming, but it needed to be done. Then I felt sad. In my attempt at taking A’s pictures, he kept doing this weird forced smile. I told him that maybe it would be better if we could get him laughing. Anyone who has teenage boys knows how impossible it is for a mom to get her 17 year old to genuinely laugh. I pulled out my phone and started telling jokes. Finally, we got him laughing and smiling. None of girlfriends pictures have actual smiles. They are all forced. It occurred to me that perhaps she doesn’t know the difference between a fake smile and a genuine smile.
Football season is 1/2 over. A is killing it this year. Interceptions, tackles, touchdowns, he is playing amazingly well. It’s been awesome to watch him play. Last week at the game A was injured. To the point where his team had to carry him off the field. After talking to the trainers there (it was an away game), they were concerned that he’d done some real damage to his ACL. Home, ice, wrapped, elevated, his knee was in rough shape the next morning. A was still very worried about his ability to play the rest of the season since he couldn’t get to the bathroom from his bedroom without crutches. After an hour with the sports medicine staff at the high school that afternoon, he was told it was only an mcl sprain and he would be ok in 3-7 days as long as he takes it easy.
After asshat’s girlfriend sent A the link to the pictures she’d taken last night, she started questioning him about his knee. She said “How is your knee? I’ve heard lots of different things from different people.” He told her he was fine and it was just a sprain. Her having a reason to contact A through Facebook made me uneasy. I feel like she is an adult who validates his fathers crazy, and I don’t like that. Reading her questions this morning made me feel annoyed, I can’t help but think, 5 days later you’re now checking in with him? And you’d rather hear gossip from “lots of other people?” And have you talked to his father? Does he have any idea whats going on? Probably not. It was earlier on Tuesday that he had messaged A asking how his knee was, then giving him all sorts of instructions about how to handle it. To which A replied “I am aware.” Asshat kept going on about taking it easy on his knee and whether he plays or not he’ll be there to watch. Suddenly, now that A is having a massively successful season, asshat decides to show up to the games. Showing up to 2 or 3 or 4 football games in an 8 game season doesn’t make you a “football parent”. And lets not forget that he only managed to show up to 1/2 of a game ALL of last season. Girlfriend posted a picture of asshat after the last home game taking a picture of the game and wrote “Proud dad hogging the camera”. Proud dad? Really? Where was proud dad at all of last years games? Where is he during the away games? Where was he during jr prom? Where was he during A’s last three baseball seasons? Where is proud dad at all in D’s life? Yuck. Just yuck.
I’m bracing myself for Senior Night at the end of the season. The announcer says that this is the seniors opportunity to thank their parents for all their love and support throughout their time in high school sports. The kids get a flower and the parents are announced one set at a time and they come out onto the field. The kid gives a flower to their parents, thanks them, hugs them then the photographer takes a picture of the happy family. Asshat is setting himself up for A to pick him to participate in this event. Asshat always wants to be picked. Like last year I didn’t go to the football banquet to see A get his school letter because he’d picked asshat to go. Its important to asshat to be picked over me, so he makes a big deal about it and knows that if A wants his love and affection, then A will choose wisely. Its a big shit burger for me though – since I’d really like a thank you and a hug from A…
In other news, at the last home game D came along with us. This transition to high school seems to have been a tightrope walk for D. He seems to have lots of friends, he seems happy and adjusting to the larger number of kids, and the difficulty of the classes. He’s less than thrilled to hear on a daily basis, “Are you A’s brother?”. He also gets out of the car quickly when we drop him off, and refuses to acknowledge us when there are friends near by. Teenagers are great.
So, D comes to the games to participate in the social aspect of it. Random kids milling around the out of bounds laughing, running, talking, rough-housing, etc. At one point in the game, we notice asshat has decided to grace us all with his presence. He’s standing on the sidelines with this girlfriend like a big dummy wearing shorts and a sweatshirt when everyone else is wearing winter coats. I wonder if D will stumble upon him while he’s socializing, but I doubt it since asshat is watching the game, and the game is the last thing on D’s mind.
At the end of the game we’re looking for D. We see him and he’s walking with a group of friends. Directly towards his father. That he hasn’t seen or spoken to in almost a year. Asshat is standing there alone, texting and doesn’t look up, not even when I start hollering to get D’s attention. I get to D when he is about 3 feet from his father and I grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Are you ready to go?” He was not, he argued that he wanted to stay and hang out with his friends. I told him the game was over, that everyone was leaving. Asshat, close enough to reach out and touch, never looked up. He walked away to his car never noticing that his son (and the whore who ruined his life) was standing RIGHT BESIDE HIM. We didn’t say anything to D about it. I wasn’t sure it would have mattered. Plus, if he finds out his dad is at the games, he may not want to go anymore. I’m sure he’d be offended that dad didn’t look for him to see if he was there. Or notice him, standing right next to him.
Four football games to go. Year book to order. Progress reports come home today. A is flailing with the task of making a short list of colleges, but D likes to read all the literature and talk about the school HE’D like to go to. I’m overwhelmed with the three classes I’m taking. I have high 90s in all of them, but I’m working my ass off! Time is passing and I’m trying my best to be enjoying it – but frankly, I’m ready for it to be over!