Kylie greets me in bed, asking for ice cream with cookies in it. “Go see dada” I instruct. It’s 8:30am. Marcus wakes up. Kylie tells me she has colouring on her hand. I tell her to go show dada. She leaves, I try and get Marcus back asleep. She cries from the hall for Deacon to open the office door. He’s not in the office, I yell for her to look in the living room. Marcus isn’t going back to sleep. Deacon’s not there, Kylie cries. I suddenly remember that he had planned to go to the gym this morning, the phone ringing at 6am makes sense. I tell her that dada’s gone out. She asks for breakfast. I go to the bathroom, she has a tantrum. We go into her room, I change and dress Marcus. I ask her to come get dressed, she runs away. I get the clothes ready and sit on the floor. She comes back, takes the clothes, and runs away. My frustration builds. I try repeatedly to get her dressed, it doesn’t work. She laughs, runs around and throws her clothes. I sit in silence and try and stay clam. Eventually she gives up and puts on her dress. I have to help her. She tries to put on her panties, wrong. I have to help her. She lets me put on her pants and fix her socks. We go to have breakfast. Why is Deacon’s bowl in the sink intstead of the dishwasher? Kylie refuses to eat her cereal and instead spills the milk all over her table. I’m frustrated and exhausted. It’s only quarter after 9.

At 5am when I was trading off being up with each kid, I was just thinking about how I would make Deacon take the kids in the morning and I could sleep in. This would have been the only day this week I would have been able to do this. Now that Deacon plans on going to the gym Friday, Saturday and Sunday mornings, I will have the kids 7 mornings a week. This morning was especially difficult due to a long night and a very rough day yesterday. Deacon worked all morning and helped my mom’s boyfriend move all afternoon. Not saying it wasn’t a long and difficult day for him either, but not nearly as aggrivating as mine.

I love my children, but they wear my patience thin and I haven’t gotten much of a break from them and the housework lately.

My little brother is tearing my family to pieces, specifically my mother. He’s a compulsive liar who manipulates his way into getting anything and everything he wants. For years I’ve been making my mother realize this and finally she gets it - but it’s almost too late. Now, faced with the realization that her son needs help, she needs to seek action now - before he turns 18 in 6 months.

But what options are out there for a sociopath? She’s leaning towards a boarding school for troubled teens, which I think is a great idea.

So where’s the battle? When mommy and daddy got divorced, there was a lot of bitterness, resentment and unresolved issues. Neither party chose to accept any responsibility and blamed the other for their relationship’s demise. To this day they are unable to be civil with each other.

For that reason my mom refuses to talk to my dad, and I have become the go-between for all information regarding my brother’s condition. I am then having to explain to both parties why the other is doing this, feeling that, etc., and neither seem to listen to anything I (each other) have to say.

Today I decided that I was sick of being the mediator and called it quits. Hopefully some good will come out of this and they’ll decide that it’s stupid and petty to harbor negative feelings of a marriage that ended 8 years ago.

All I hope now is that baby bro gets the treatment he needs and doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else in the process.

This morning my husband came home extremely distraught. It was 7:45 am and he had just come home from his morning walk. For the past 5 months, he’s been going out every single morning for an hour to get himself in shape – partially for my benefit and partially so he can be around for our two young children. When the weather started to dip he began heading over to my mother’s house to walk on her treadmill.

The quickest way from our house to her’s is through the field of Grand Centre Middle School. As far as we were concerned, walking trough there at 6:30am and returning at 7:30am was perfectly acceptible – the first school bell doesn’t ring until after 8.

I’m sure he looked pretty silly wearing a trench coat and shorts out in -20, but the coat would cover most of his legs and being cold does burn more calories. Everytime he passed someone he assumed they were thinking “What a nut! He must be so cold!”.

Neither of us were prepared for what one of the janatorial staff said to my beloved husband this morning. “People think you’re crazy you know… I mean they actually think you’re crazy, like there’s a pedophile or something coming through the school because you have shorts and that long coat on.” He explained.

Nobody should have to explain to someone that they`re not a pedophile because of how they look.

This is a fantanstic example of what our society is coming to. People use such harsh words in totally inapporopriate situations. `He wears shorts and walk through a schoolyard  before children are there, so he must be a pedophile` is the same as saying `She wears a hood and walks past a closed bank every day, she must be a bank robber`. Neither have any merit, but they do hurt peoples feelings.

What would happen if this person told someone else, and when he  takes  our daughter to school they all of a sudden think her father’s a pedophile? What happens if a child at this school goes missing? Is my husband to blame?

Please think about what you’re saying and the romours you’re spreading. They’re likely untrue and surely are hurtful. My husband is a loving father to our 2 year old daughter and 4 month old son – not a pedophile.