That's not being a monster, that's knowing what will work for basic functioning of your family. He *does* have other options, he just has to choose to explore them. Might not be as cozy as your couch, but there are shelters and programs. And if Tim wants to help him navigate that, fine. But drawing this line doesn't make you a monster. Just aware of what will and will not work.

You can be angry at everyone.

HULK LIKE RAGING FIRE; THOR LIKE TINY FLAME

Again, no Like button.

The combination of the Hulk quote and my tagline is my current mental state. I should be asleep from the Ativan, but I'm too agitated. That's powerful agitation.

I remember when Hubby's daughter, at age 16 and pregnant, was floating the idea of moving in with us. The idea made me nearly nuts. I don't know if my horror at the idea gave Hubby the impetus to say "No" or if was a conversation I had with her. She was saying she was looking forward to this and that and then said, "And you'll be getting me up in the morning to get to school." "No, I won't," I said, blinking at her, "you can get yourself up to go to school." She seemed utterly flabbergasted.

You have to set these boundaries. I had to do it with my son because 25 was my cutoff. He hasn't communicated with me in 6 weeks now. At some point they have to figure it out themselves. He has all the tools for a successful life. Rescuing him again is called enabling. He won't call or message me now until he needs something, and then I have to say no. Ah, parenting joy.

Steph, you're being perfectly reasonable. And I can say from experience, if you *did* have a guest room, there probably would be no getting him out of it. He needs to learn consequences, and sometimes that has to happen in the hardest way possible.

I'm sitting with Laura, because as much as I love Jake, he will not ever live with me again.

Is Tim's ex not around for her kid?

Tim called her yesterday (she lives in Texas, which is why we moved him down there several years ago). She texted back that she's sent him $5,000 in the past few months and she doesn't know what he did with it and she can't keep helping him until he actually helps himself.

When I read that text, I about lost my damn mind. Not at his mom; at Dude. I don't know what the actual fuck is going on with him, but he has pissed away every chance he's gotten and then chalks it up to "bad luck". Driving drunk is not "bad luck," my dude.

We'll make him breakfast and he can get a shower (I'm not actually a monster), but he needs to get the fuck out today. I might just go grocery shopping while Tim gets him the hell out of here.

Dang, I haven't double-posted in a while!