Category Archives: my effed up family
This makes my mother nervous; my blogging about her. I told her it will only be mildly humiliating, to which she responded with a giggle, then a sigh, then a blank stare, then an assertion that no one reading is a God so who cares. Right.
But since I am writing this for Mother’s Day, it is probably best that I don’t do anything so offensive the she decides to revoke my dowry (what?). Instead I decided to honor my mother, by highlighting three of the personality traits she passed onto me during labor, with three of my favorite quotes.
- “She’s destroying my world.”
– my mother, referencing Molly, our 6 pound shih tzu.
The Drama – Always too hot and never cold enough, my mother passes her time getting “seriously depressed” by driving past a Pizza Hut she had lunch at once in 1987 and speaking in long-winded, passionate diatribes before saying things like “I’m not even that upset about it.”
2. “She looks like she walks around with a 24/7 yeast infection.”
– my mother, referencing Cynthia Nixon from Sex and the City
The Inappropriateness – You wouldn’t know by looking at her, but my mother can out talk a sailor most days of the week. She’d never admit such a thing, but the words I have heard her use in reference to power struggles with Molly, the 6 pound shih tzu, have been so shocking, I could only reply with a gasp and a trip to the fainting chair. When you call her on such things, reminding her that her language/comments/general thought process is highly inappropriate she throws her head back and laughs joyously before muttering the phrase, “I’m only teasing.”
– my mother, referencing her life.
Restlessness – Beekeeper, woodcarver, guidance counselor, chocolatier, dried flower florist, field biologist, children’s book author, lawyer, college professor. All career paths my mother has considered…in the last two years.
All in all, she’s f***ing nuts, in a way well within her control. But if she were not her, I would not be me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mama Bear!
The girl you pushed out the easiest
My mother has an unemployed, black male living in her house.
I know what you’re thinking. Why you gotta pull the race card into it, bitch? Because she does. All the time. Every time she talks about finding a new one she specifies that he will have to be 100% black. None of the half and half shit.
Honestly, the black part really doesn’t bother me. Live and let live, right? Plus he can be sort of cute when he wants to be.
But what makes me want to drop kick him out the door is his unfounded sense of entitlement. I try to tell her that it’s unhealthy to let him run her life and interfere in our family, but she tells me that he really loves her and tells him not to listen to me. It’s a vicious cycle that’s been going on for far too long.
I don’t know if she was feeling lonely or what, but four years ago she got “online.” She started browsing ads with pictures and descriptions, all looking for their “best friend” promising to be “fun “and “loving.” All the standard lines.
Then she saw him. To quote her, “I saw that black face and I just fell in love.”
A few weeks later he moved in. A few days after that and he was already sleeping in her bed. Now, I’m not saying my mom is easy or anything but… I was living there at the time and I can tell you with 100% certainty, it didn’t take that much convincing.
It was okay at first. He was friendly enough and kind of fun to hang out with. My brother wasn’t too big on the whole thing though. Overtime we all came to accept the fact that things were going to be different.
But after a few months of him lounging around the house, sleeping full days while my mom worked, then demanding meals when she got home, it became quite obvious that this had transformed into a highly abusive relationship.
She stopped going out on evenings and weekends always saying she “felt bad” about leaving him. I kept telling her that he was a big boy and he could survive without her for a while, but she’d just shake her head and tell me I didn’t understand. It wasn’t that easy.
Overtime he convinced her that he was really lonely during the days, crying and throwing fits. Instead of kicking his ass out, she invited his little sister to come live with us too. His little sister is not much younger than him, same dad different mom. She’s only half black, but twice as loud.
Now here we are, four years later, with things getting worse by the day. He’s still not working, still demanding all of her attention, and still only willing to eat organic food served at very specific temperatures. But that’s hardly the worst part.
He’s sleeping with me now too.
Oh the charms of a 15 pounds shih tzu…
The girl with youngest child syndrome