...this is going to be a long one...I was talking last night with S and as usual we were throwing little jabs back at each other. It's not personal and if you've ever been around us, we just tease like that.
S said the ever popular "Your mama" and I'm like "Why would my mama be reading our local paper?"
S replies "So she can see SS listed for being on the A/B honor roll." And I returned with "She doesn't even know his name." Then SS yelled from his room wanting to know what we were talking about and that led to a conversation about how S has never met my Mother.
Yes you read that right. It's true. We have been married 12 years and he's never met my Mother. In fact I haven't talked to her in at least that long. And since she's remarried, I don't even know her last name.
And I'm okay with that.
My Dad & her got married prior to my birth but they were only 15 at the time. Obviously I don't know all the details being that I was very young, but what I do remember is spending a lot of time with my Granny.
Even though my parents were always there my Granny took over because they were so young and not exactly equipped to deal with a baby. I don't know if it's because of this or not, but I always shared a bond with my Granny more like that of a mother/daughter relationship.
Although she tried, I think this irked my Mother and we truly never got along. I can remember coming home from school to snacks, dinners together and a pretty normal life. Her extended family was always around, especially for holidays.
My first sister was born when I was two, so I don't remember much before that but I was old enough to notice a few things when my second sister was born 7 years later. I'm pretty sure she was a last resort at saving their marriage.
And it worked for a while.
Then my Mother went crazy. Literally. I remember her locking herself in the bathroom and then being committed for a psychiatric evaluation. She was only in there a few days but I remember getting stuff from the vending machine when we visited and the crafts she made there...isn't it funny the things that you remember?
Anyway, there was a lot of drama for the next couple years. A LOT. My Dad traveled for work, so every time he was gone it was like she was up to something. In fact, one time she ran off to Florida with another man.
My Dad went to get her. And then we took a vacation together.
I guess that was his idea of a solution to a crumbling marriage and a crazy wife.
I'm not sure. What I do know is eventually she left. She moved in with another man, who in my opinion was way beneath her. He was trash in my eyes, and so was his family. I never accepted this man and I lost all respect for my Mother...well, the little that I still had at that point.
I never went and visited and it was rare that I would talk to her when she called. She had left us. Three girls. What kind of Mother does that? Even if she didn't love my Dad anymore, why did she leave us?
It hurt my sisters a lot more than it hurt me.
It just pissed me off. Sure we still had our Dad, my Granny and my Aunt
(my Dad's sister) but we had all but been abandoned by Mother and her family.
Then the drunk calls started. A woman who was a size 0 her whole life, and not able to drink one beer without being sick was now drinking daily. She is an alcoholic. She would call drunk and start blubbering on the phone.
I couldn't take it. I told her don't call if she couldn't call sober and started just hanging up on her. I was the oldest so I tried to save my sisters from the drama and took on the role of "mother" in the house.
As time went on, my Granny moved in with us and helped to care for the house. Even though my sisters went to visit, I refused to go and thankfully my Dad never pressed the issue.
Eventually my Dad got remarried and while my first sister and I stayed with my Granny at our childhood home, my little sister went to live with him and the evil stepmother. She continued to visit my Mother on weekends.
When I was 18 I decided that it was time to try to salvage our relationship so I contacted my Mother. My boyfriend and I had dinner with her once or twice and things seemed to be going okay.
Until my Mother's neighbor called one weekend. I won't go into the all the gory details but when I showed up, my little sister was crying hysterically and holding a washcloth over some part of my Mother's busted face. She was consoling my Mother who had gotten into a physical fight with her boyfriend.
This just set me off. My LITTLE sister was taking care of this grown ass woman, who should know better than to act like that when she was there. I didn't care if they beat the hell out of each other, but they sure wasn't going to do it while she was there.
After some screaming and ugly words flying around I went and called my Dad to come pick up my sister since my Mother refused to let me take her.
That was the last time I saw her, except for a brief visit she made to my first sister's house over 12 years ago. I wasn't interested in talking to her then, and I'm still not interested in talking to her.
She lives in NC now, with her trash husband and from what I understand she is still an alcoholic. My middle sister still talks to her occasionally and my little sister did for a time but no longer does.
(I think)I'm told she still asks about me. My reply - tell her don't bother. That may be harsh, but that's the way I feel. She wasn't there when we needed her. She didn't just leave a marriage, she left her children.
To me there's no excuse for that.
I'm not asking for advice. This is not something I want to fix. Actually, I debated writing this post because it is so personal, but it's a part of me and a part of who I've become. Even the bad experiences shape who we are, so I won't hide from it.
