Sherri Cornelius

My friends on Facebook might remember a few weeks ago when my bike was stolen, the idiot rode it right by my house, and I went down there to confront the gang of kids and retrieve my bike

Drama.

Up to that point the kids mainly messed with mailboxes up and down the street. Like, you’d see too many doors hanging open to be coincidence. The knob on my plastic mailbox was broken off and thrown on the ground. But we’d never be able to catch them in the act because it happened in the wee hours of the morning.

Then my bike was stolen, and it seemed to escalate from there.

A friend who lives across the street from the bike-thief’s house (their apparent base of operations) had things stolen out of his pickup the same night they took my bike. I told him who to talk to, and he was able to retrieve his items from the disinterested parents. We agreed we needed to start keeping our homes and cars locked, something I’ve never had to do before, and I started rebuilding the broken shed door.

It was quiet at my house for the next couple of weeks, but apparently they were still causing mayhem at other places, because the bike-thief girl got arrested last week. A few days later they ripped the door off my mailbox, and went through and stole items my friend had set out for a garage sale. On my way into town to get a new mailbox, I saw another family standing around their mailbox, which was lying on the ground next to its post.

Since my friend’s house is the only other one on that stretch of road, he’s an obvious target. Well the other night he caught two of the boys red-handed and had them arrested.

In a perfect world, this would be the end of it. The parents would step in, finally, or being arrested would scare the kids straight…but I doubt that will happen. If I’m not mistaken, a couple of the boys are the same ones I saw writing on the playground equipment a couple of years ago. They’re just old enough to do actual damage now, and bolder with their years of small crime successes behind them.

In the meantime, I spent a good chunk of change on a vandal-proof mailbox, and when they learn to drive they won’t bother with us anymore. With a vehicle, the mailbox smashing possibilities will be endless.

I've been avoiding the blog this week, because I've been processing some drama. My step-daughter Z announced on Tuesday she was getting married this Friday. To a man she's dated a month. When she called to tell me I told her it was the dumbest idea she's ever had. Afterward, I felt bad about being so harsh, but it was such a nasty shock.

I know my yelling won't change a damn thing, so I calmed myself and told her I was behind her, if not her decision. She swears she's thought it through, and I believe she sincerely wants to make a life with him, not just cause drama. But, you know...she's known him a month. Who shows their warts after a month?  Z's so young, she doesn't even know what she doesn't know, and of course she won't listen to the wisdom of her elders who maybe DO know what she doesn't know. Who may know a little something about how people can surprise you, disappoint you, in ways she can't even imagine. He seems like a nice young man, but you know...so did Ted Bundy.

I'm sure he's not a Ted Bundy, but maybe he drinks too much. Maybe a little disrespect will start to show after they've been together a while. Maybe he's a cheater. Maybe she shows him something he doesn't like and he wants to leave, but now, you know, they're committed. Also, there's her baby to consider.

Even though I'm trying to be there for her, I want to strangle her. I want to save her from a life of struggle. She doesn't know she's probably laying the foundation for that very life with this action. It's hard enough  being a teenage mother, but she's going to add the stress of marriage to that? As far as I can tell, she has no plans to go to college. I'm reminding myself that she's technically an adult, and it's her right to choose her own path. At the very least, this will teach her something about life. And heck, maybe they'll prove the cynics wrong.

I thought about deleting this, but there's nothing here I haven't told her, except maybe the strangling part. She's not my blood but she is my daughter, and it's just hard, you know? Thanks for listening to me ramble.