� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
�
Whelp Mom knows about my credit cards now; Sandy told her. She couldn't get after me too much though; it would be like throwing rocks while living in a glass house. Though we're agreed. Dad can't know or he'll "blow a gasket," as Mom said to me. But he or she needn't worry. I'll not ever own or apply for credit cards again.
Sam (Sandy) reassured me when I talked to her I have never owned a Citibank credit card--I didn't think I had one--and so their claim that I owe money on one is bogus. Even if the company bought out one with whom I did have a credit card through they can't touch me she said. I'm on Disability and SSI. I'm not responsible for this, besides the accounts were closed and discontinued.
I've been stressing about trying to take care of this myself. But surprisingly, it's a relief Mom knows. I know she's displeased as all-get-out, but she can comiserate. BIG TIME. I wonder then if she'll help sort this out?
*counts to five* 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. *sigh* I might as well say this now and get it out of my system. I love my baby sis, but I hope to high heaven I never have a child like her. If I do, then I hope with love, she'll--or he'll--accept the discipline they will have at an early age. One thing with Aubree that I've learned is a child that willful needs to know its limits very early in life and have them maintained or else the lil one will know he/she can get away with almost anything. Tonight is Baptisms for the Dead. The youth, as part of genealogy, are baptized in proxy for those who have gone before. I merely reminded the girl it was close to 6:30 and she should be getting dressed. She yelled at me because I was interrupting her fun with The Sims game.
"That clock is fast. And we don't have to go till seven."
"That clock is not. It's on time--" I began, trying to reason with her.
Ha! You can't tell Miss-Know-It-All anything she thinks she already knows. "No it's not!" she continued yelling. "It's 10 minutes fast! Father told me so."
Well, la-di-dah. How do you explain shows starting when the long hand shows the hour then? Or that shows end on the half hour or near to the hour on that same said clock? Or that I keep my watch close to its time and it ends up being pretty darn close to the clocks at the church and Institute? *sigh*
I love the munchkin, but I don't want a child like her nor do I like being alone with her. She challenges anyone and everyone. She back talks. I don't want to deal with her anymore. She resents me because, being unable to enforce what I say, I have to tell the 'rents what's been goin' on in their absence. I feel like they need to know because she needs discipline--and they sometimes ask. But they don't, and haven't, really stuck to their limits or rules. There's always been exceptions with Aubree. It's frustrating. She needs a tighter rein, but she isn't receiving it. And she's needed one almost from zee cradle.
And sometimes my arguments (or discussions) with her are seen as trivial when all I was trying to do is teach her better manners, better logic or better speech. I am charged with half the blame. True, I can argue just for the sake of egging her on. But on the times I was trying to teach her it can be frustrating because Mom refuses to help out, not bothering to find out if it is a petty argument between sisters or something more legitimate. I just don't wanna deal with her bad attitude anymore. But I'm often put in positions where I'm left with her while they go off.
Mom and Dad have taken to taking rides every weekend. Saturday I asked why they couldn't stay just that once, why they had started running off. Oh, I knew the why--to have a date--but I wanted to know why it was always a ride. Dad got all huffy and belligerent, openly stating it was none of my business what they did.
Fine, I almost retorted. I'll start going out every Saturday for hours, and you can stay home and deal with Aubree's attitude. I was mad. But you really can't say that to your parents and get away with it.
So, I have a new fledging philosophy when it comes to Aubree. Talk to her once or twice about something, then if she gives me guff, ignore her and let the parents deal with the consequences.
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Normality is a curse for the weak.
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