I am a terrible, cruel mother.  Jenn is turning into a juvenile delinquent because I have no rules. I am cheating her out of her car. This was conclusively determined by my ex-husband last weekend, and Jenn, who can smell a better deal from at least one town away, decided that she’d rather live with him for a bit. Especially after he bought her a car last weekend.

But wait, you may say. Didn’t she already have a car? Oh yeah, the one that we helped her buy last summer after which she never made another car or insurance payment, until we repossessed it right before Christmas. How unreasonable can parents be? And when we offered to give her back the original downpayment and even told her we’d sell her Joe’s old car for the cash, this was a blatant attempt to cheat our own daughter. See what happens when unbridled greed takes hold of our souls?

For about two minutes I let ex-Ray’s judgement of my parenting worm into my saddened heart, and then I thought, WHAA? Bad parent? This coming from a man who used to make 3-year-old Jessie watch her infant sister while he slept off a hangover; a man who has never made it to a single school Open House, sports event, music recital, doctor’s appointment, or even Jessie’s High School graduation?

I decided to sit back and let the fun begin.

Tuesday I took her to the doctor for her first pelvic exam, and in the meantime I got to hear about ex-Ray’s wonderfulness in helping her buy a car. The downpayment wasn’t quite enough, but her dad was “helping her out”. He didn’t want anyone to know how he was helping her out, since he didn’t want the whole world to know what a nice guy he was. It was their secret. That’s beautiful.

Wednesday at 6 am she called to ask if I would call her in sick to school. Stomach. Severe pains. No sleep. You’ve heard this all before. I gave her the school phone number and suggested her dad, um, be a parent.

Thursday at 6 am she called crying, saying she was still sick and her Dad wouldn’t call her school. I told her Dad’s house, Dad’s rules. She sobbed that he was yelling that no matter how sick she was, she better get her ass to work that night because she owed him money. Hm. Yes, he said ass. We don’t generally use the word ass when talking to our children in this house, but you know, Dad’s house, Dad’s rules.

Thursday afternoon she proposed coming over to my house and sleeping during her work shift so her dad wouldn’t know she didn’t go to work. Vetoed. She went to work.

This afternoon she came home to say dad doesn’t care about her health at all, he just cares about her making her car payments. Hm.

She wants to come home. Hm.