E.R. Minus McDreamy

11 p.m. we are driving down the road on our way to the E.R.  Red says to me, "When I'm an adult and I get this sick...who is going to drive me to the doctor?"  Before we left the house he had asked, "If I was living in my own apartment and I am this sick...who would help take care of me and tell me what to do?"  I wanted to tell him, you are not the first or the last man who can't figure out what to do when they are sick.  Many of them do nothing...they just lay there helplessly, in misery.
"Hopefully there will be a woman in your life who will help you, or hopefully a roommate," I say knowing, it may very well end up being me.

He had this little cough for days...no fever, no loss of appetite. I started out with herbal, natural remedies,  teas, honey, lemon, steamy baths, eucalyptus and peppermint oil.  I progressed to trying everything in the book of pharmaceuticals.  Whatever I gave him would make things slightly better for maybe an hour or while he slept.  Until every thing stopped working...completely.

His dad kept telling me to put on a mask or something as I kept going in and out of his room and later in and out of  the steamy bathroom, where I had him soaking in a eucalyptus, peppermint and lavendar bath.  I kept going in to tell him what to do next.
"I don't want you to get sick," hubby says.
"I am his mother...I don't care about that.  I have to take care of my son!"
Hubby accused me of biting his head off and maybe I did.  A mother has to do what a mother has to do, without hesitation or apprehension.

"God knew exactly what he was doing when he created woman.  He thought to himself ...he'll never make it...smh." My Facebook status that night. 

(Sorry men...don't mean to bash you.  I love you...really...well, most of you.)

I did my hand-washing and cupped my face when he was coughing, and had him cough into a wash towel as a precaution, but I didn't think twice about not being around him.

We arrive at the hospital and get out of the car into to the cold, night air.  I make him put his hood on his head, as he had not long been out of the steamy bath and his hair was still damp.  We are both carrying a micro-fiber blanket.  I'd been through this before a few months ago with hubby.  It's always cold in those E.R. rooms. Too bad I didn't pack a snack.  I always end up figuring out that I'm hungry shortly after we arrive.
I check in.  Red starts exploring the place.
"This is pretty cool.  It's new isn't it? I've never been here before," his curiosity like that of a young boy.

I notice he isn't coughing nearly as much.  Before we left home the coughing fits were so fierce I thought he would never be able to sleep.  I would therefore never be able to sleep with him in that condition. Now these nurses and doctors are probably going to think I'm a nutty, neurotic mother.  Perhaps that's a good assessment...but whatever...we're here.

We go into triage within minutes.  They ask questions directly to him because he looks like he's an adult, with his hairy, needs-to-be-shaved face.  I want him to be able to answer these medical questions just in case this ever happens in the future and I'm not around.  There are awkward pauses and hesitations, like he is trying to process what the hell they are saying.  Some of them quite simple, obvious questions, at least to me.  It's all I can do not to step in and be his voice,  He almost gets through the list of medications he is taking, only forgetting about one.  He turns to me and says,
"Am I going to have to take these medicines for the rest of my life, because I can't remember all of this?"
"Hopefully, you won't.  But you can always keep a list of your medications in your wallet."

His temperature is normal.  I ask about his oxygen level, which I guess is fine.  They don't offer any additional incite or information. Lovely.

These days Red is constantly thinking about adulthood and the responsibilities, that will soon belong to him.  It's kind of a good thing...but it's also becoming a source of anxiety.

They take us through towards the back of the E.R. to a room.
"I'm sorry, but this is the only room available.  It's our rowdy room."
What the hell is a rowdy room? It's sparse...drab, nothing on the walls, no medical machines...nada...just a chair and a bed.  I assume this is where they take the drunk, belligerent people who come in during the wee hours of the night after a bar fight.
I think to myself, okay ...we told them the medications he's on.  Do they think he's going to go ballistic? Or is the room for black people? We are often the only "colored" people in the room in our community.  But seriously...what the hell? 

As we are waiting for the doc...I take a look around.  The nurse says, "May I help you mam?"  "Seriously...is the only room you have available?"
"Right now...yes."
Wow! Whatever...
Red is looking at the gown like it's a foreign object.  "What am I supposed to do with this?"
He tries to put it on and then lays back and starts talking incessantly about some video series on YouTube by an angry Ginger who is bullied and harassed.  Why he is watching these videos over and over again...I have no idea.  Do I care to hear anything about it?  Absolutely not.

The doctor comes in with no chart...nada.  "I'm doctor whoever...and what's going on here tonight?" I wonder if he even knows all of the information we just gave triage.  He asks a few questions and examines Red briefly, checking the ears and throat, listening briefly to his chest...I think he listened to his chest.  It was all so fast...it's just a blur.  He's walking towards the door when he says,  "Well it's probably just a virus, but we will do a chest x-ray to make sure it isn't pneumonia."
"How does his throat look?" I ask...I'm sure with all of the coughing it has to be kind of raw.
"It looks normal."

This guy is definitely no Mc Dreamy, Mc Steamy or anything else.  In fact he's kind of a douche.  He gave off this vibe like he didn't really want to be in the room.  Seriously, why are you standing at the doorway talking to us?

The tech comes with a wheel chair to take him to x-ray.  Again Red looks like, what the hell?
He says, "That's o.k. I can walk."
The tech explains it's their policy that they have to transport patients this way.

Later the doctor returns to say, "Well I see a spot that looks a little suspicious on his lungs. It could be pneumonia, so we're going to go ahead and treat it with antibiotics."
I tell him, Red has had breathing treatments before when he was coughing like this, but it's been so long, that I didn't have any current medicine for the nebulizer.
"Oh...well we can give him a breathing treatment if you want." If I want? Like, what if I don't want? How do I know what he needs?  You're the doctor! What the hell?  Let's give him the works! Like we're ordering a pizza!? 

They finally move us to a decent room because the tech can't give us a breathing treatment in this room that has no hookups.  Just wow! She asks him if he feels better afterwards? He says, "Not really.  I'm still coughing."
She explains that the nebulizer medicine doesn't actually take away the cough, but it should open up his lungs and help him breathe better.  He looks at her kind of like...whatever.

The nurse comes in and gives us discharge instructions.  The discharge papers say that it is bronchitis.  So why did the doctor say pneumonia? He gave us a few prescriptions.  I ask her if they can give him the first dosage of the medicine for the cough so I don't have to go to the pharmacy at what is now 1 a.m.
"Well the doctor didn't order that." And so....ask him to order it! Isn't this an f-ing hospital?  Do they not have medicine here?  Nope...she directs me to the 24-hour Walgreens...as if I don't already f-ing know where it is! I'm sorry people...at this point I am exhausted.

We go drop the prescriptions...it will take 20 minutes to fill them.  We drive across the street to Wendy's to take up the time and of course, because I am starving! Why is it I'm always starving when I have to wait around an emergency room for hours? 

My favorite quote of the night was when Red said, "This is really bad.  I'd rather go to school than be this sick."

We make it home somewhere around 2 a.m.  I check in with my "Confessions" facebook community.  So many had reached out to us, with suggestions, prayers and well wishes.  Some of them were waiting up to see what happened until we got home.  I was just amazed by the outpouring of love.

Dr. McHottie
Red's real
Pediatrician

Today we go to see Red's Pediatrician as a follow up to make sure this lame doctor assessed him correctly.  Dr. B could teach that E.R. doctor a thing or two about bedside manner.

I'm sure he would just love to know he has been objectified in this manner.

Getting to Know Me

I am starting to notice certain changes as I evolve into my 47 year-old self.  Yep! I said it...forty-seven.  I know for sure the things that I like and the things that I don't.  I have a great deal of patience for my kids, but very little for some adults and things that I simply do not want to do.  There are too many things in my life that I do on a daily basis not because they are my favorite thing, but because I am a responsible adult, a mother, a wife and caregiver.  When it comes to choices where there really is an option...I may very well choose to opt out if it's not something I honestly want.

I know for sure that am very spiritual, but not religious.  I believe in God.  I believe in prayer.  I believe in following the example of Christ.  I do not necessarily believe in following people and/or churches who claim that they are following Christ.  Not all of them are really.  Many are self serving, selective, and judgemental.  I will only be judged by God...not men. I am thrilled that my boys are choosing faith and following their own path and relationship with God.  I am pleased that their faith is authentic and not forced by anyone, including me.

I believe in freedom of choice in all aspects of life, including your path to God.  I strongly believe that all people despite religion, sexual orientation, ethnicity, disability, or different ability, are entitled to certain inalienable rights.  I believe in living my life in service to help others, especially those who are less fortunate than I am.  If I can touch a life, help someone financially, make someone smile or feel less alone in this world...I am successful.

I have come to treasure simple pleasures like peace, quiet, time alone, art, music, things that make me laugh authentically.  I love a good glass a wine or three, a margarita or two, and a great martini.  I love and treasure the true friends that I have.  They really do mean the world to me, including some of my friends that I have truly connected with online.  I think about them daily.  I think about their children.  I cheer with them on their journey, and cry with them when they are in pain.

There is just nothing like someone whom you love and trust with your most treasured secrets...that you can talk to, laugh with, share your truths and receive the truth in return...without judgement.  A couple of weeks ago I got to spend time with my one of my treasured girlfriends, Beccy.  She was my first roommate when I was in my 20's.  We took a girls-trip together, along with another good friend of hers Lilli.  Beccy and I  are different in so many ways and yet, we have so many things in common.  It was interesting to see how much she has grown and changed ...how life as a wife and a mother has allowed her to blossom and mature into this wonderful, bright, articulate, strong woman.  

We were able to share our stories and laugh at the craziness of what has become our lives.  We are both kind of artsy fartsy.  We love writing, movies and books.  She, unlike me is very focused and organized where I am a bit of a scatterbrain.  She was smart enough to have only one child, a precious little girl, where I have 3 wild and crazy boys...hence, the scatterbrain.  We reminisced about the days when we were young, partying and carefree ...about some of the crazy escapades and guys that we dated.  There was never any, "I can't believe you raise your kids that way." Or any, "Why did you make that decision?" It was just love, laughter and support.  If feel so lucky to have this woman in my life 23 years later and still be able to enjoy each other's company so much.

Me and the girls hanging out drinking martinis

At the same time, one of the best parts of my trip was the final day.  Beccy and Lilli left early that morning. I got to wake up to silence and solitude.  I drank hot coffee and sat like a cat curled up in the window seat of my hotel room, staring out at the view of the city.  I listened to a little music, did a little writing and just reveled in the silence.  I took a long, hot, steamy, aromatic bath.  I took my sweet time getting dressed.  I walked to a little Italian cafe, had a leisurely glass of wine and a yummy, light lunch. I basked in the glory of the warm sun and the cool California breeze on my walk back to the hotel.

As much as I love my friends and being social, I also have come to just love and treasure time by myself. In my 20's I was afraid to spend time by myself.  I hated it...probably because of immaturity and insecurity. Now...I love not having anyone to check in with,  having no-one to negotiate with over what we are going to do next.  I love not rushing...taking my own, sweet time, enjoying my own thoughts instead of constantly being bombarded by the thoughts of others, requests and even simple conversation.  Sometimes I just want stillness.

Being a mother to these children, a wife and a daughter, caretaker has created this person who has truly come to love a simple life.  I love to dance, go out and have a few drinks, but I don't have to do it every week.  I can have my very own private party in the privacy of my own home.  I can have just as good of a time, drinking wine and painting, or writing at home.  I love a really good party, a concert, a good movie.  Actually, it's become hard to get me out of the house unless I feel that the movie is really worth my precious time and money.

I love time alone with my husband...especially when we can get away from the hustle of this house. I love to travel with him ...where we can really get into pleasing one another.  As I grow more into myself, I realize that he is a big part of my world, but he is not my entire world.  He is a part of what makes me happy, but he is not my happiness.  My happiness comes from within...it comes from every once in a while, doing something that pleases me...despite how everyone else feels about it.

Every one is not going to be happy when you do things to please yourself.  In fact, sometimes when you step out of the box and chart new ground, many even those you are closest to will look at you like you're crazy.   It's because you're doing something that they would never do. They don't understand it. It may also be because they know in some way, it will divert your attention away from them.  My children are definitely guilty of this.  In their eyes, my life should be all about them all of the time.  My mother and sometimes my husband are guilty as well.  They really loathe and do not trust social media. They hate that I spend so much time on it.  Hubby does information security for a living so he has a different insight.  Mom has always been the most paranoid person on earth.  I don't really care.  I can't live my life in paranoia over what might happen, or who may be reading what I write.

When I first started this blog and noticed readers from all over the world, my mom said, "It's probably the terrorists reading it."
To which I replied, "Well, they must have children with autism.  I hope I can help them."
Writing this blog and my Facebook page has been one of the best decisions I have made in my adult life.  I love it!  I love the connections I have made with people all over the world.  I can not allow how others feel about what I am doing stop me from doing what's in my heart.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving.  We shared our dinner and our day with good friends who live nearby.  We had plenty of wine and plenty of food. Overall, it was a great day.  A few hours in however, I was done.  I was all talked out.  There were several generations in the house and at a certain point, all of the elder generations went home...except my mother.  Since she moved to Texas, she has no life outside of this house.  This was a social outing for her, and she was not about to cut it short.

Oh My God...the conversation went on and on with my girlfriend, her daughter, me and my mother.  We talked about raising children, movies, college, health, life...you name it.  Only I could not freely let go in this conversation because my mother was sitting there, with her judgement about my life.  I was bordering on trying to have a good time, and trying not to tell her to mind her own freakin' business.  I raise my children the way I see fit...not the way she sees fit.

The whole time I kept thinking,  boy...I'd rather be home in my P.J's writing, or zoning out watching a movie.  Geez Christmas is only a month away and I will have to do this cooking-all-day and socializing all-night thing afterwards!  I'm pooped!  Overstimulated!  Give me a break...please! I love to socialize, but at a point, I get tired.  I am done.  I know I am blessed to have my mother in my life...but I really don't want to socialize with her for extended periods of time...especially when there is wine drinking involved and she looses her filter.

When I was on my girlfriend trip a few weeks ago in San Francisco, I have to say my favorite night of the trip was not when we were out at fancy restaurant, although that was great.  It wasn't hanging out in the bar drinking martinis... and that was really fun.  My favorite night was when we came in after a long day of walking through Chinatown, and shopping.   We put on our pajamas, ordered room service, drank wine, shared a few laughs, watched a funny movie and went to bed by midnight.

Tired feet after a day of walking around the city

What I know for sure about myself  is that I am growing, changing and evolving daily.  I don't have to have glitz, glam and party-all-the-time atmosphere.  I know what I want and I want what I know.  This is the girl that I have become...and I think I kinda love her.    

Walk in the Park

One would think there is nothing more simple or pleasurable than a walk in the park on a beautiful, mildly cool, fall day.  Then again, if you know my family, things that look simple on the outside can quickly become complex once you peel back the layers and get to the inside.

At the beginning of this week, Blue made a list of thing to do on this Thanksgiving break.  On the top of this list is to go hiking at a nearby trail.  He so needs exercise as the medication he's taking has helped him gain a few pounds.  Supposedly, exercise is also it will be great for his not-so-lovely teenage mood.  On this lovely afternoon, he has actually been in a pretty good mood because we have company over. He has a little sister for the day.  They have been laughing, playing and challenging each other all day.

My girlfriend has to work and we love to borrow her daughter whenever we can.  Skye is 8 years-old, smart, gorgeous an with a quick wit...definitely my kinda girl.  Actually, almost any little girl is my kind of girl.  I am surrounded by testosterone most of the time.  Sweet little girls are refreshing.  I made her promise not to change when she becomes a tween.  She promised she would not change...but then again, so did Blue.

After walking for miles through the streets and along the bay in San Francisco on my vacation, I think to myself, this walk will be a breeze.  Let's do it!  Walking is much more fun when there is something to see, instead of walking around a boring track or on a treadmill. Communing with nature is good for the soul.  So off we go.

Harry our little Maltese is also along for the walk.  I didn't really think he could keep up, but the kids, especially Blue, insisted that he come. 

I have my I-pod earphones in one ear, walking in rhythm to the sound of the "Black-eyed Peas". I am using the other ear to hear the kids if I need to.  Me and Skye, my daughter for the day, are a few steps ahead of Blue.
Suddenly, he starts yelling at us...
"Wait...slow down!"
We are literally just a few steps ahead of him.  I wonder why he sounds so angry? He was just fine moments ago. We keep walking at a moderate pace.  I can tell his attitude has definitely turned to crap. We reach a big blue pole, which is an emergency phone station.  Blue wants to stop here. Skye wants to keep going...so do I.

"You always want to stop here. Come on this is an adventure.  We need to keep going," she says.
We compromise and take a rest stop.  

We are all sitting on a park bench.  The two of them are having shall we say, an exchange of ideas.  He is bitching and moaning because he wants to stop and turn around.  She is telling him he needs to push through it, in her sweet little girl voice.  Hiking was his idea after all.
He is completely argumentative and combative.  He accuses her of arguing with him to which she replies, "I'm not arguing.  I'm just trying to have a conversation!"
Ah hah! This is the exact sentiment I have all the time when I am trying to talk with Blue and his father.  If you are not in complete agreement with them ..thinking the very same thoughts, in his mind you are arguing with him!  Finally, I have proof that I am not crazy!  I just need another sane person to live in the house with me to help me prove it!
Did I tell you I love this girl?!

Taking a Break 

The next thing I know Blue takes off...and not in the direction of the car.  Suddenly, he is determined to make it to the end of the trail.  He gets nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of us, in the twist and turns of the trail, to the point where I can't see him anymore.  It's starting to get dark.  I realize that if we don't start heading back soon, we will find ourselves walking back in the moonlight.  I finally get to a point where I can see him.  I call out to him yelling his name, waving for him to come back.
"We have to head back now! It's going to get dark!"
He hesitates, but decides to head back in our direction.

Once we are walking together again, the two of them are slightly ahead of me.  I here Stell say...
"I'm sorry Blue. I didn't mean to make you angry."
My heart melts a bit.  I think...this is what it would be like for him to have a little sister.  They would not get along all the time, but she would help bring out the best in him, that caregiver side that teachers see at school, that we see when he's with his younger cousins.  He apologizes to her as well, and then to me.

Skye and Harry in the dark

We pull out our phones to use the flashlight app.  We are now walking in the dark.  Part of his anger I discover, is that fact that Stella and I were laughing and talking...enjoying our walk together, while he was walking with his IPOD in his ears and not a part of the conversation.  He could very well have joined the conversation, but chose to get angry instead.

This girl is so smart...so funny and such a grown up little soul.  She is growing up with her single-mom. I think spending so much one on one time with an adult has made her grow up faster than your average girl.

"I know you would rather have a little girl mom." He is only partially correct.  I would love to have a little girl not instead of him, but in addition to him and his brothers.  I tell him this.  I don't think he believes me.  One thing about it...we will never find out for sure. The only little girls I will have, will be borrowed.

 

Wimpy or Strong

"Are you a wimpy mom or a strong mom?

If you are a strong Mom, what advice do you have for us wimps?" 

When I have one of those mommy life dilemmas I often turn to my lovely Facebook "Confessions" Community page to look for wisdom and to figure out if  I am completely crazy in my ways of thinking.

Now, I don't totally think I am a wimp.  I stick to my guns when it comes to the important things.  I am raising young men, who I want to become responsible adults that will add a positive contribution to society.  This requires discipline, education and in our case, lots of therapy.  It is my job as a mother to dish out discipline...that doesn't mean I  like it.  It's exhausting really.

I think there are times when many of us feel wimpy...like we have given in to something that we probably should not have.  Because our children have so much more than we had, we feel like we are spoiling them in some way.  You add the fact that they have issues that make childhood more difficult to say the least, you want to do whatever small things you can to make them happy.  

While I am not a complete wimp...I am a bit of a softy, especially in comparison to their dad who can be a bit of a hard ass.  I have to deal with them more than he does because of his work schedule.  So when it comes to choosing my battles, because I have so many, I choose carefully.  It's too exhausting to argue every freaking point with these kids.  They are teenagers.  It's their job to want to do everything we don't want them to do.  They are breaking away into adulthood.

When it comes to Blue, who is such a hard-working, anxiety-ridden, boy.  Sometimes I just want to give him a treat.  I just want to see a smile on his face...even if it's just for a moment.  For example, yesterday I was very tired after returning from my girl's weekend in San Francisco.  I could barely get up to get the boys off to school.  They did a pretty good job of doing this themselves while I was gone, so I kind of felt like...why should I have to?  They are old enough to do this on their own.  Well, I did as little as possible.  When Blue got ready to walk out the door he turns to me and says, "What about my lunch?" Shit! I had not made one nor did I feel like rushing to do so.  

"Can you just eat in the cafeteria?"
"Mom...I hate that food. Can you just bring me a sandwich from Subway and a cookie?"

"Fine...I will bring you your lunch later."

I've been gone for 4 days....I let a little mommy guilt set me up for bringing the boy lunch.

Meanwhile...I crawl back in bed with my laptop.  Before I know it...I am passed out cold. My flight got in late.  I had narrowly escaped getting sick while I was away.  Apparently, my body needed rest.

12:45 p.m. The phone rings. Shit! I forgot about the lunch. He convinced me that I needed to come.  He said it was too late to get a cafeteria lunch.  Luckily, his special-ed teacher heard him on the phone and caught me before I headed out the door with my sweats on, and an unwashed face.  

"I can get him a lunch in the cafeteria.  He will be fine," she says.  

"Tell him I'll make it up to him later," I say to her.
To which I'm sure she rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever lady," under her breath. I'm sure she wanted to say, "He needs to get over it.  You don't need to come running to his rescue to bring him lunch.  He needs to roll with the punches.  You're not feeling well.  Why should you run out in the cold, over here to bring this kid lunch?"  

He did make it sound like it was too late to get lunch and who knows, maybe in his mind it was.  He certainly didn't want to ask her for help.  He'd rather ask me.  He's no dummy.  He knows who he can manipulate.  Nevertheless, his teacher took him down and made sure he got a sandwich.  He survived.  He did not die of starvation....and I did not have to get out in the cold, in my my sweatpants with a dirty face.  

After school, I took his spoiled ass to Mc Donald's and bought dinner for him and his brother...a total wimp move.  At the same time, I did not feel like cooking...so this was also win for me. 

So back to the question I posed...wimpy or strong, definitely got minds spinning.  I usually use a bit of humor and provocation to solicit a passionate response.  On the Facebook thread the advice that was given was good for all of us.  Some of us admitted to being wimpy, because we are tired of screaming fits that often come along with Aspergers. Mostly everyone commented that it's most important to be consistent and to always follow through.  Aspergers kids especially, need to know what to expect and they need to know the boundaries.  

Lorrelle Wittingslow sums it up perfectly...

"The WORST thing you can do is say one thing and do another!!! This teaches children that the rules are able to be bent and manipulated if they keep nagging/ annoying/ misbehaving. This eventually teaches them not to listen/ obey what you have to say and makes it difficult for when adolescence arrives. Studies have provem that a child with strict rules and strong boundaries is a much happier child because there is no fear of repercussion if they stay within the clearly defined lines. So being a hard mum doesn't mean you are hard, it just means you are ensuring your child is confident and socially well rounded. I have used this method with both of my children including my son who has Aspergers Syndrome (no social skills) and he is doing marvelously!"

I also loved this comment from Krista Hallet 

"...I've got to give all you parents a standing ovation. the fact that you have the strength to ask the tough questions shows me that you, in fact, are a tough mom. You are also so incredibly loving as you are asking for help and the welfare of your child, is above all your priority!! I am also a mom ...the comments also taught me a few things that I have yet to completely figure out on my own. Bless you all for your honesty, compassion, love and strength. For those moms that think they are wimpy, I see otherwise and you should be darn proud of yourselves."

And most of the time...I am proud of the job that I do. However, I know there is always someone out there who is doing it better, easier or who has some magic secret that has eluded me. I never stop looking for answers. 

Apology/Asmology ...When Apologies Get Tired

I get these text messages from Red during the school day....when he's supposed be...um...learning.

Love You Mom!!!:-)

Even Though I treat you like total crap. 

I'm sorry about this morning.

You're the best mom in the world!!! 

Love ya!

One could argue that he is being reflective.  He has probably had a conversation with his social skills teacher, whose nickname is Yoda, because...well...he sort of looks like Yoda and he is very wise.  Yoda probably made him feel like crap because he knows how much I do to make his life better.  I am probably one of the most involved parents he's ever met.  

Your ordinary mother would be excited to get such a message.  Here is my reply...

Thanks...I guess.

You realize you treat me like crap...yet, you keep doing it.

His reply...

I try not to.

That very afternoon ...he comes home ranting about girls and how he hates the whole dynamic of high school...how it's not fair that he doesn't have a girlfriend. You know the same old rant I've been listening to for months now.  He goes on and on until he has himself all worked up. Fighting with brother ensues.  Being disrespectful to me follows.  

Later that night, he sits in his room on facebook, going through pages of all of these popular kids from his school...basically torturing himself.  His mood gets worse.  When I tell him it's time to shut it down and get ready for bed.  He snaps at me.  I remind him of his, "I'm so sorry for this behavior" apology that he  just sent me a few hours earlier.  I implore him, not to send me another one the following day, because it's obviously meaningless.  This at least gets him to stop and think.  He shuts the computer down shortly thereafter. 

The following day...he gets to school and I get the same basic text message: 

I'm truely sorry again, for last night.

I know you won't forgive me, but I want you to know that anyway.

Love you.

Anyone noticing a trend here? 

Well I guess getting an apology is better than acting out, not looking back at your behavior, and not acknowledging how awful it is.  Still...an apology over and over again for the same thing and not changing the behavior gets really old...real fast.  Of course, I am his mother I forgive him.  Or maybe I don't forgive him, but I certainly don't hold on to my anger about it.  I would be a complete madwoman if I did...as opposed to the only partially-mad woman that I am. 

I do let him know that if he is so lucky to have a wife...a girlfriend...or even a friend, in the future, she may not so easily let go of being treated like crap.  He may not be forgiven.  With some people once you blurt out some god-awful insult ...they may very well be done with you.  No second chances.

To which he says "That's because they're selfish and they don't really care about me." 

Or maybe they just care about themselves more.