The Prodigal Returns and Leaves and Returns and Leaves and....What day is it again?

So this one will be ALL over the place. 

Because that is where I am lately. 

Where to start. Where to start.

Well, the pregnant daughter came home. 

Then she left again. Then she came home. Then she left. Then she was on her way home. 

And the cops stopped her and she had a ticket warrant.

 OOPS! 

Two nights and three days later, I picked her up and brought her home.

(Oh, did you think I might bail out my pregnant eighteen year old daughter from jail? Ahh, no! I want her to never want to go there again.)

Charges were dismissed, as we expected. 

The fly in my ointment of contentment here is the so-called "Baby Daddy"

Damn, I hate that term. Calling him her boyfriend just pisses me off, so for this he will simply be BD. It can have several meanings depending on his behavior. Big douche, bad dad, big dickhead. You get my drift. I am also taking suggestions on this, so...

But he is causing no end of troubles for me right now. I am not his biggest fan. Can you tell? 

He is a scrawny, nineteen year old homeless drug addict that refuses to go into rehab. 

He was not all of those things when he started dating my daughter two and a half years ago and I didn't really like him much then, but I tolerated him. I cannot say if he used drugs when they started dating but whether he did or didn't its too late now.

He helped introduce her to a life that I would never want for my child and while I hold her responsible for all the rotten choices she has made, I think I am allowed to be angry at him for the choices he enticed her into. I get the sex. I even can understand trying the drugs. 

But he talked her into leaving home to be with him before she was of legal age. To live on the street. Not because she was thrown out like some parents do to their troubled kids. No, he convinced her to go play house with him. We had the police bring her home several times. But she was eventually weeks away from her birthday and there was not a lot they could do. 

She pretended to come home right before her birthday. I know it was for whatever presents they thought we would give her. She was certainly in for a surprise. 

Every gift we gave her was something that would help support her if she choose to leave our home and live on the street. 

• A solar cell phone charger
• A strong water bottle that also filtered the water.
• A sturdy backpack with lots of pockets
• A thin yet light blanket (It was summer)
• Sunscreen,deodorant and personal items in small bottles

If my kid was going to be homeless, I wanted her to have some things that assisted her. I kept the tracker going on her cell phone. I knew what park she was sleeping in based on the tower she pinged off of nightly. If she didn't have a solar charger, she wouldn't be able to charge her phone on a regular basis. The water bottle was a necessity living where we do. Staying hydrated and making sure the water was clean was a priority. The backpack allowed her to carry her belongings tightly packed, yet easy to get to and the other items are easily explained. 

She was slightly disappointed since she wanted new clothes and gift cards. 

I called B.S. on that idea. I was no longer required to clothe her if she choose not to live in my home or follow my rules. When she thought about the gifts and used them, she saw the foresight we put into them. She realized that while we HATED the choice she was making, we were trying to respect her right as a newly legal adult to make it. 

(Yeah, that sounds like a load of crap and I agree, but at the time I was doing everything in my power to maintain any relationship with her and I did want her to stay in touch. I also did not want to give her anything that would support the BD anymore than necessary.)

So she would come home periodically. The BD said that whenever it was too "hard" for her "out there" she would run home to mommy and daddy. I told her he was just jealous that she was still allowed to come home and that if he would do what his parents asked he could go home also. They wanted him in rehab. He refused. They wanted some proof that he was willing to change his ways. He wouldn't. His loss.

He slowly tried to break her down, belittle her and made her feel like less than she was. But I raised a fighter. She may had made some screwed up crazy choices that I hated with a passion, but she was not going to go down without a fight. She pushed back at him every time he tried to take away what I had spent her childhood building up. Eventually she stood up and told him what she thought of him.

Most small men, both in mind and stature, do not like it when women stand up to them. 

(Hence the reason we do not get along at all. I do not suffer fools and he is clearly one. )

So as it stands now. She is home. He is still living the homeless life on purpose. Still refusing to go into rehab despite being told that until he does, she does not want to see him. I don't know if she will hold to that dictate. But she said it. Its a start. 

She is starting to act like a future mother. Realizing that her choices affect others and that she has to be responsible now for someone else. 

My baby may be growing up after all. 

SnarkyMomma out!