It's Christmas Eve, I am up with my two youngest kids as they camp out in the living room for the night, and my wife asleep in bed. Trying to break out of a funk that has stayed since before the last flare up with our oldest son, who does not live at home, and turns 18 in another week.
I honestly don't know if he will come over tomorrow. Franky, I am numb concerning it, and would prefer he doesn't because of the way he treated his brother and sister on Friday when he came over to trim the tree. It sounds cold and a little callous, but I am tired of him acting like the perpetual victim. He traded us up for a "better" family, and he simply needs to go into the military as he plans to as soon as he turns 18. In a few years or so, we can sit down and pick up where we left off aproximately a year ago.
(Damn, my heart aches. It's a good thing I am not a drinking man).





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