I was, ahem..."venting" to husband today (poor guy, he gets quite the earful sometimes) and realized something. Here lately, difficult child hasn't been too bad. But as I posted yesterday, he's had another couple of acts of stupid. (Wrongly assumed a page a day calendar I forgot to lock up was his and decorated his walls with it. Also, destroyed a school library book) It was enough though to light my "I've HAD it" fuse. It's the same type of thing over and over and over since August of 1999 when he came to live with us. We tell him the same things over and over and over but he either doesn't or won't get it. For a while now, I've been at the point that, while I love him, I don't like him. Short of you guys, not too many people in my life can understand that. Today though, I realized what I can compare it to. Have you ever had an apartment with a good friend only to discover that you can't live with that person and maintain the level of friendship you had before living together? You still care about that person but if you have to spend one more minute with them you will go nuts. THAT'S how I am feeling currently about difficult child. I don't know if it's because we've been dealing with the same things for so long or because he's now 18 and technically I don't HAVE to put up with it or a combination of both. Either way I just want to chuck his scrawny backside out the door with his smelly clothes and tell him to have at it. Know what I mean?