Original Publish Date: June 23, 2011
Within the last week, I’ve spoken to the new probation officer assigned to my daughter’s case, for which she’s appearing next week. I had a great conversation with the woman, and she clearly is convinced that my daughter is nothing less than a saint—two jobs, enrolling in school, “thinking of” volunteering for Habitat for Humanity…Why wouldn’t she? I talked her up for an hour, explaining that she had a tough time for a while, that she is now being treated for depression and anxiety, and that we just lost my stepfather and she’s been an angel from heaven for her nana in her time of need. I filled out the necessary paperwork with all the personal questions, and even made sure I mentioned that though I’m aware my daughter has used drugs, I have zero suspicions at this time. I didn’t at the moment I wrote that.
Of course, it’s a lie. I suspect all the time that she’s smoking pot every time she leaves the house. Every time she doesn’t have money for gas, despite having two jobs, I assume she’s spent whatever pocket change she has on a bag of weed. I assume that the reason she has put on weight in the last few months and always craves junk food is because she is stoned. I have no way to prove it, and it would be a tremendous battle to get her to pee in a cup, so I ask and nag. She swears on bibles, graves, dead puppies, and her job that she wasn’t smoking pot.
Here’s where this is going: Yesterday, I was tired and decided to come home early and nap before going to the gym. I texted my daughter to let her know I was coming home early, too. I never heard back from her, so I assumed that she was still involved in placement testing at the college and couldn’t get on the phone.
I couldn’t have been more wronger—er—wrong—er—incorrect! I walked in the door to find her asleep on the couch, still in her work clothes. I called to her, but she wouldn’t awaken. I called again and nothing. I went to my room to change out of my work clothes, and she still wasn’t stirring when I came out. I figured she was really tired so I went over to give her a kiss and cover her up.
BUT, BUT, BUT right beside her on the couch was a pot pipe and a lighter. The same pot pipe I found in her room and gave her to give away (see my stupidity in this post). I picked it up and screamed at her—the stuff you’d expect me to say.
She followed me through the house as I went to get the hammer so I could smash the goddamned thing once and for all. While I crushed that glass pipe, she pleaded with me to listen to her, so I finally did. She went through the expected defenses and swore that she only had a puff or two (in the car, not the house, as if that makes it better), that she hasn’t been doing it at all, that it was only half a bowl (whatever that means), that she’s been doing so well and she’d never ruin her accomplishments, yada yada yada.
I calmed down, heard her out, decided to move on and take that nap that I was now desperate for. I had her run some time-consuming errands for me and we made our deal to go to the gym afterwards. I had to make her go, and I had to wait for when she was good and ready, but we went. It was probably harder for her than for me, even though we are equally out of shape. She is a smoker and she had been recently stoned (according to me).
I don’t know what to do, don’t know if what I do matters, don’t know if I should include a punishment. I’m lost and really trying to find something to grab onto. Will the gym keep her occupied? Will my disapproval and lack of trust for her make a difference? Will she grow out of this? Will the judge in the courtroom scare her next week? Will they drug test her? I hope the answer is YES to all of the above.