Yesterday was the Eldest’s 27th birthday. DG is 14 in a week — my baby.
With all of them shoehorned in here, I feel like the old woman in the shoe. It’s one thing to have three kids in the house when they’re kids. When they’re adults and teens, it’s a whole different proposition.

Sticks holes up in his room with regularity, reluctant to come down and be part of the group ever since the girlfriend popped back into his life just before Christmas. He speaks grunt; I’m learning to live with it. Eldest is at least trying to be part of the cooperative effort, and the brightest spot in all of our days is DG, who is starting to show her thinking, funny, cool self daily. I like that. We all do, except for Sticks, who doesn’t like much of anything we do these days unless it’s for him.

It’s almost worth it to me to send him down to the dorms. I think we probably will try and do that next semester, because this is definitely not working for me.

I think I’m suffering from parenting overload. In some ways it’s harder now than it was when they were little, because when they were little I knew what was my responsibility and what wasn’t. But this is like getting all the work with none of the reward.

I’m on a downer tonight. I’m sure I’ll feel differently tomorrow.