Here we are. It's Thursday. It's almost 5:00, which means it won't be too long before Anthony comes home. Anthony has tomorrow off - the first Friday he is supposed to have off that he actually has gotten to take in over a month. Yay!
I haven't been at all physically aggressive with Max, nor have I yelled at him, nor spoken to him in a humiliating way.
Max, on the other hand, has yelled at me, spoken over the top of me, spoken extremely rudely to me, physically attacked me with a large blue hard plastic bin and much more. All except the blue bin deal was many times today.
Yeah. I know. He's the child. I'm the adult. It gets real old, though. Like I've said before, especially when he was really into hitting me, I feel like I'm living in an abusive relationship. If he were my husband, everyone would be telling me to leave him. He's not, though. He's a little kid who's been through a lot. So, we stick with him. That doesn't mean I have to like it.