"You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart. You’re heading for a breakdown, better pull yourself apart. " - John Cooper Clarke

>Todd N° 5,379 (and still going, it appears).

>So Todd went back to his boarding facilities on Sunday. Despite having barely seen my son over the weekend, I was only too glad to see the back of him, and that feeling makes me sad because it is wrong. It is wrong to want to see the back of your son. Todd is my flesh and blood and no matter how much I love the boy, he drives me insane.

His sudden change in August was a little too much to believe, but he wanted to take care of his mum while his quasi-papa wasn’t there. But now that Quarsan is back, everything has turned back to how it was before. Is Quarsan the problem in Todd’s life? Have I chosen someone who is really horrid to Todd behind my back? I don’t think so. But perhaps the fact that Todd is growing and becoming a young man is the problem. Puberty is nobody’s friend.

When Todd came home on Friday – with a new/borrowed studded belt hugging his hips and making him look a bit of a prat as no punk would have worn the belt like that – I was happy. But where was his bag of washing?

“Oh, it’s at mamy’s house.”
“Todd, I need it tonight as I do not have a tumble dryer, therefore your clothes have to be washed tonight.”
“But I can’t – I have to go to the Gare du Nord to pick up my girlfriend.”
“What? She’s staying tonight?”
“Yes mum, but don’t worry, I’m taking her out for dinner.”
“OK Todd, but don’t be back late. But before you go to meet her at the station, you will go and get your washing.”
“OK, mama – I’ll go.”

And so he left.

And came back at midnight.

Without his washing, nor his girlfriend.

In the morning Todd got up to have his hair cut, then promised to get his washing. I told him it would never be dry in time but he told me not to worry, he’s arranged it so that I would wash his clothes and Todd would then take them to his fathers to dry. His aunt then came around to pick him up to mow her lawn without a care in the world that this just happened to be my son, the one I only see every other weekend and so Todd tried to leave without his clothes.

We finally got the issue of drying Todd’s clothes over with, but the icing on the cake was when Todd came back from ‘somewhere’ on his sister’s bicycle without having asked her if he could borrow it. And not only that, he had broken the ‘stand’ ‘le pied’ of the bicycle right off.

I’m beginning to feel as though we have to lock everything up. We have all put passwords on our computers, but the kitchen needs locking up during the day, we need to put locks on our bicycles (Todd never did find Quarsan’s – does anyone have a 2nd hand bike for sale?) and so on.

This is no way to live. I feel that the happiest ‘person’ in this household is Hermie. He sleeps, he eats, he pees on his food, he sleeps, he eats, he plays Prison Break, ad nauseum.

At this rate, I’ll find myself ending up on the Jeremy Kyle show.

Help.

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