Well, it happened. We knew it might. He was bound to have a child or two from his past wild behavior. Cut to last year, 6 kids in, and suddenly there's a new addition to the family. Surprise, it's a six foot tall 230 lbs uhh, 14 year old boy. We had talked about it several times. About how we would feel, how we would cope, how we would adjust... But life just happens, you know? I expected to be happy. And I was. I expected to be excited. And I was. What I did not expect was to feel an undeniably and deeply disturbing feeling of being an outsider in my own family. We got lucky, if you want to call it that. He's a sweet boy, and he respects women, which means we get along very well. What he also is, is an only child raised in a family full of drug addicts. He has already had sex for the first time, smokes pot with his mom, and has chronic stomach issues from not being fed properly as he grew. Because he grew up with no children around, I am now having to explain to my 4, 6, 7, and 11 year old children what condoms are, what an STD is, what prostitution means, why we don't use the N word, what cocaine, meth, molly, lsd, and heroin are, why discussions about 'licking a**' and 'sucking d***' are not appropriate, and why being gay isn't disgusting or offensive. Among other things... He doesn't mean anything by it, he just doesn't know because he was raised by wolves. I would argue he wasn't raised at all. Now my husband and I are fighting because his mother has been getting high again, and he wants John(I'd rather not use his real name, but he does have one, so we'll just go with this one...) to move in with us full time. I can't relax when he is with us, because I feel as though he needs near constant supervision. He needs someone around to tell him that catcalling young girls and calling them "b*****s" is NOT in fact, cool. Even LESS cool to show your little brothers and little sister that this is acceptable behavior. For this reason, I have asked my husband, who does not live with me full time, to be at my home whenever John is there. Now my husband is resentful and angry because he thinks I should just treat John as if he were my own child. I can't even fathom how I would go about doing that as I have had almost zero time to get to know him. He wants us to continue having a regular sex life(5-6x per week) when John continually knocks ferociously at the door if it is ever closed wanting to know "what are you doing?" And asks 35 irrelevant questions after being told to please go play and let us relax for a bit. Nighttime sex is out of the question, as John's normal routine is to stay up until 6 am and sleep until 4pm. Again, the knocking at the door. I now feel incredibly uncomfortable even attempting to be intimate with my husband with him in the house. One of the reasons we live apart is because I cherish my space. My room is mine. All of you open-door-policy-parents, good for you, that will never be me. I am a "knock-first-my-door-is-closed-for-a-reason" type of parent. Some parents can play on the floor with their kids for hours and hours and love and happiness just blooms from their hearts....not me. I do not enjoy more than an hour at a time before I need some time to do something else. I guess I'm selfish. Don't get me wrong, I would absolutely sleep outside if there was only room inside for my babies. I would, and have, gone without eating to make sure they have enough. I have sewn halloween costumes, and read endless bedtime stories, and prepared from-scratch meals which we sit at the table and eat together regularly. I have brought my 16 year old milk and cookies and had long discussions with my children about what they want to do, and be, and what they love. I have found a thousand ways to tell and show them how much I love them, but playing with them for hours? No thanks. Can't do it. But John....he needs an adult with him at all time to keep him busy, to make sure he is behaving age-appropriate with his brothers and sister, and now that we have spent some real time with him over the last few weeks, it has become apparent that he has some learning disabilities. He definitely has special needs, which is no problem really, but poses extra difficulty at a time when the country is in lockdown, my 4 year old has been diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum, and in the wake of a year of semi-severe post partum depression. It's killing me. My husband's response to my saying he needs to be here when John is here? "I have s*** to do, I can't be taking him everywhere with me." As if that somehow absolves him of the responsibility to raise this child who is in every way HIS CHILD. Do I love John? Yes. Do I think of him as my own? No. Will I ever? I don't know, I JUST MET HIM. Yes, we have known ABOUT him for a year, but we havent spent much time with him until a few weeks ago when we started having him over regularly. Now for the last week, we have had him every single day. Funny how my husband is allowed to drop John off when he wants to and just say "I have s*** to do," but as a reason as to why I cannot and will not raise him alone at any point during our transition "I have s*** to do," just doesn't cut it. Hm. Hmm. I want to feel the exact same way about John as I do about my other kids, but the truth is that I don't. Yet. It is so unfair for my husband to expect me to have no difficulty whatsoever coping with an impossibly difficult situation. And the cherry on top? Schools are still out here, so now he wants me to homeschool John with the other children. And get him caught up since he is failing. Good. Great. FanTASTIC. I have no idea where we go from here, but I'm trying my best to make good of a bad situation for all of us and I wish I had some support and understanding. According to my husband, the fact that I'm not jumping for joy at the chance to add one more to my already overwhelming family makes me a less-than-wonderful person to put it nicely. I have feelings. I don't see how it is possible to go through something so life-altering and have only good things to say about it.