(Toledo, OH) I have to vent, so I apologize in advance for what is likely to be seen as a post that contributes little to the collective advancement of human knowledge.
My 18-year-old son moved out earlier this year after graduating high school. He's a good kid, but his girlfriend was moving to Columbus for college, and he "discovered" a culinary arts program that just happened to be very near his girlfriend.
Of course, my wife and I tried to dissuade him of the notion, noting that Owens Community College has an excellent food service degree program in the Toledo area, and also that young relationships rarely last, and that - if his love was really meant to be - the relationship would stand the test of time and distance.
Unfortunately, the mother of his girlfriend not only convinced him of the brilliance of this plan, but actually co-signed on an apartment lease for him. The woman almost singlehandedly created for them a cozy Columbus love nest.
As he is an adult, there was little we could do beyond voice our disapproval and hope that things would work out for him. Stubbornness and young love are a strong combination, to which most of us who survived our teenage years can attest, but we did our best to pound some common sense into his head.
Alas, the young lovers have broken up, and my son has learned some expensive lessons about life in the real world. He is moving back home in a few weeks, as he is tired of living nickel-to-nickel as a grownup. Here, however, is where the tale becomes Springer-esque.
I am an occasional insomniac, and I truly value the nights when sleep arrives on time. I had just nodded off when the phone rang about 11:15, waking my wife and I. She answered it - dutiful, worried mother that she is - and proceeded to be on the receiving end of a seven-minute rant from the aforementioned daffy mother of my son's now-ex-girlfriend.
It seems that the clueless mom not only helped my son get an apartment, but she also gave him a full-size bed that was once owned by her mother. My son informed her that she will have to arrange for the bed to be picked up, as he cannot afford a U-Haul truck on the return trip to Toledo, and he is essentially driving back with one carload of belongings.
So there I was, listening to my saintly wife trying to be understanding, and all I can think of is grabbing the phone and telling off this psychotic fool: I just wanted my sleep back.
The goofy woman ended up hanging up on my wife, which made me doubly mad, as not only did she badger my spouse, but she also roused me from my sleep. Rather than call or write this fruitcake, I have decided to follow the example of Hooda Thunkit and use the blog as a form of therapeutic release.
Do not call my house in the middle of the night with petty bullshit, as I am likely to enter ballistic mode. Actually, just don't call my house at all. Period.
Furthermore, since you are the idiot adult who facilitated the young-lovers-on-an-adventure scenario, it is only fitting that you should be on the hook for any unpaid rent or lost family heirlooms you loaned an 18-year-old. Cosigning for teenagers is a pretty stupid idea, but it was all yours.
Finally, my son is an adult, and makes his own decisions. Perhaps you could actually learn something about maturity yourself, and recognize that you are a parent, not a buddy, to your children.
Oh - and that bed? Before you wax too sentimental about it, think for a moment about how it has been used well nigh these few months. Maybe a can of gas and a pack of matches might be a better solution.