Tired...

I'm tired. Tired of all of the crap I have to deal with every day. The Son is wearing me out. I'm tired of being taken for granted and I'm tired of having to pick up all the pieces (and pay for them). I know that I have caused the majority of the problems due to the fact I have always spoiled and indulged him. He used to be a much better child toward me. It was an easy thing to do. Now that he is older and "knows everything", it is totally different. The latest string of issues started at the end of April.

The Son was stopped at about 10pm with friends in the car. As his license is still restricted (He just received in March), he isn't suppose to have others in the car with him. Well, he crossed the center line a couple of times which got the officer's attention. Then when the Son rolled down the window, the officer smelled pot. Couldn't find the pot but found a pipe. He received a citation for crossing the center line (125.50) and I got a phone call about the fact his phone was in his lap (suspected texting and driving), what the officer found etc. This was a Monday night. Then Friday night at 1am, I receive a phone call from Morgan and a police officer. The Son had gone to a party that had been busted. He was visibly sleeping in the car and the cop gave him a breathalyzer. I had to go and pick him up and then find someone who could go back with me to get the car as it was going to be towed. One of Son's friends helped me retrieve the car. We have a meeting at the county probation office and will probably end up in court. He was charged with underage consumption. The week after that he was suspended from school for one day because he did not park in the designated student parking and then they found cigarettes in his car. A week later he wrecked the car in the school parking lot. He should've been patient but apparently forced himself out of his spot into the linen of cars trying to leave at the end of the day. The whole back passenger door is crunched as well as the back quarterpanel.

All of this stresses me out. I have begun smoking again and I don't like the fact that I have. I am trying to pack this house for the moves and although I did not expect him to be much help, I at least was hoping he wouldn't hinder me. I am still working on a wall in the basement he punched when he was mad at his girlfriend. I have 465 more days (give or take) until he turns 18. And although I know he will still need support from me, at least he can begin fixing his own messes. He wants to move out just as soon as he possibly can. It would probably be best. Even if to let him see just how good he has it.