You ever notice that when you are on social networks that you seem to seek people out that you only have the most tentative of connections with.   I’m as bad as anyone.   I’m speaking of this after a true friend added me yesterday on Facebook.  It’s someone I messaged back and forth a few times with, and may mildly keep in touch with.   After that I went through my graduating class and added more people.  Some people I’m interested in from afar, some I’m interested in communicating with, some I have a passing interest in.   I also didn’t add a few that I wouldn’t be interested in, but I would friend them back if they connected to me.

I was thinking afterward though that just like high school, some of these bonds and connections are true and some of them just a passing fancy where no communication will ever really flow from one end to the other.   I see people that I know vaguely, I’m at least proper enough to stick with people I actually had classes or conversations with.   Some of these people only have friends that they went to high school with.  Some I may be the only one.

Looking at the sociological dynamics is very interesting.   Some people are extremely close with those they went to high school with.   I’m not, mostly since I’ve fallen out of touch with a lot of people.   Moving to Oregon also put a bit more space between me and the rest of the class, and even now I live about sixty miles away – though I play in the community band in that town.

Even the bullies, the preps, or the prima donnas from school, I wish them no ill will.  There was a moment in time I was worried about my standing in the social pecking order, but I think I left that behind when I was an underclassmen in high school.   I’m someone that cares about my immediate social circles and not those of memories of people over a decade old.   If they however wish to know me more in depth then my blog posts allow I’m happy to converse with them, maybe even have a coffee – but things won’t be like they were.  Because of that I don’t judge them by the way they are.

Time has changed most if not all of us.  I’m sure some of them all hang out with the same people from high school, get drunk every night with the same people they drank with when they were underage- but I hope the majority of them have moved from that.   That their dreams have been realized.   We have this spark of moment in time where we had a shared experience and it bounds us.   Not everyone is brave enough to face that moment in their lives, some people want to leave it behind them never to return back.   I’m sure those people I’ll never be able to reconnect with, the saddest part a couple of those were some of my best friends.

To the future and the past, we move forward solid in our own steps.   The echoes of the past follow behind us as we make our way into the unknown.

I never truly finished my “Month With Mom Series“, I was working on the novel for NANOWRIMO, and then came back and ran out of steam to finish the blog article series.  It’s take me over a month, but I wanted to address a couple comments.  The first came from my youngest sister who still lives with my mother and step-father:

Ok well im just going to say what I feel . About the part 2 and part 3 , I feel she should of never ever took him back . He is not a father and doesnt act like one. He does not bother talking to us all the time except for my yonger brother usually. And is mean to the pets . I dont even like him living in the house . And seems like he doenst even try at all . But I still dont get what she see’s in him. When he was in Columbus it was better without him . But thats all im gonna say .

She seems to have some of the same feeling that I do on the issue, at least when it comes to how my mother dealt with my step-father during their separation and the reconciliation.    So this is similar feelings coming form someone that is thirty-two and someone that lives in that household and is thirteen.   This is also her father, it might be my step-father, but it is her father and this is the treatment she feels that she gets.  Don’t forget that I had another sister pipe in on her feelings.  My own father has read my series, but thought it would be best to not leave public comments, I guess in some ways he is a wise man.

This next comment was left by Groovymarlin who runs her own blog, but I knew through playing SWG with.  This comment was left on part 20 of the series (also the final part I finished).

I’ve been reading these all along and I have to say they’re fascinating, though maybe not for the reasons that you think. I’ll just summarize my thoughts so far:

1. Your mom is obviously a very shallow person. It also sounds like she was a little too selfish and self-centered to be a very good mom.

2. On the other hand, you were all fed, clothed, received medical care, etc., etc, growing up yes? My point being – she may not be a very good mom, but there are much WORSE moms.

3. A lot of your complaints about her sound pretty nit-picky to a third party. I’m sure that to you, just about everything she does is annoying and obnoxious and irritating. But to an outsider, a lot of the things she does sound like…things that middle-aged women do. However…

4. Your opinion and view of her has obviously been colored by the truly negative things she HAS done in the past, and therefore every one of her transgressions is magnified to you.

5. Your mom seems to have a bad habit of using people, but remember: people allow themselves to be used. Your grandparents in particular seem to have no problem allowing her to manipulate them. Is it right? No. Are they adults, and capable of deciding for themselves whether to allow this? Yes (at least as far as we know – if at some point due to age or health they become unable to make these decisions on their own, then there would be a real problem).

I think in general you’re handling the mom situation the right way, which is to just let her do her own thing, as long as it’s not hurting you or your own family. I feel pretty bad about some of the things she said about, to, and in front of your sister. That passive-aggressive shit is not cool, not from anyone, and especially not from a mother. But what can you do about that, other than give your sister your emotional support and help her do her own thing as well? Nothing.

People suck, don’t they?

Ever since I read this comment I thought it would be a good blog post on it’s own for a reply instead of loosing it in the noise of comments that no one would ever read, just like my sister’s comment above.  Though she says I’m handling this the right way and can see where I am coming from I wanted to address a couple of the points.

Point number two stated because we were clothed, fed,  and had medical care that she couldn’t have been a terrible mom, there are crack addict mothers that can do the same.   When I was 16 I had a job where I pulled a muscle in my chest.   It kept going for a few days where I didn’t tell anyone that I was having trouble breathing.   Everytime I took a deep breath it physically hurt ot breath.  Not to the point where I couldn’t breath, but to the point where I thought something was wrong with my heart since it was in that vincinity.  Like eveyr male I ignored it as long as possible and finally mentioned to my mother.

My mother thought I was making it up and yelled at me for making her take me to the doctor.   Stating she didn’t have the money for it (my parents were divorced by then).   I think my grandparents ending up paying for it.   It turned out I didn’t have heart problems like i was afraid, but a pulled chest muscle like I said.   I had been hyper-ventilating for days, which means taking breaths faster and more shallow then you normally would.  I hadn;t noticed since it seems we are taught when you are hyperventilating you are gasping for air.   I was proscribed codeine for the pain, every once in awhile to this day the problem will creep back for a week or two and I just deal with it since pain medication is the only thing they can proscribe.   My siblings have had similar doctor experiences where my mother only reluctantly took them after we plead the case to my grandparents since my mom thought it was some sort of attention plea.

I never asked for medical attention from my mother.   Besides getting teeth pulled for braces the last major medical thing tha tI had done was in elementary school when I got chronic ear aches.   So this wasn’t a case of my mother always dragging me ot the doctor and me haivng nothing wrong with me, it was serious to me, I was in tears fearing the worst about my condition and thinking it was my heart.

A similar issue goes with the getting fed thing, my mother has always chosen not work.  Because of this she happily took advantage of the free lunch program for the local schools.  I can’t say that my sibling are still on it, yet for two years of my high school I was.   It seemed to her better to get her kids free lunches then to get a job.    She has worked the welfare system so she could go on buying things from the home shopping network and Longaberger baskets, but send her children into the free lunch program.  that is selfish and naive, and if she had been cutting back on other things maybe I would have more sympathy and understanding.

So did she keep clothed, fed, and medical care – only when it suited her, she didn’t have pay, it didn’t effect other people’s appearance of her, or she was forced.   I still wonder what school officials thought about me wearing hundred dollar tennis shoes (since she wanted us to look our best) while getting free lunchs.

Number three stated I was pointing out alot of nit picky things – I mentioned earlier that alot fo these were small things, things that eventually broke me and caused me to cut off all communication with her.    I don’t deny some of hte things were small, but it is also the small things that shape us.   The big things we overcome; my mother didn’t beat me, she was the person that cared about herself first and her children second.

Number four stated that I magnify the issues and focus them on myself.   I was the whipping boy, after me it the third in line, then the fourth (my brother second in line didn’t get the whipping boy treatment), now it’s my sister that’s fifth in line.  I can say what I felt was slights to me and things that I have a right to complain about.   If one day my siblings decide to tell their own stories alot of similarities will line up, since this is what they tell me “off the record”.   Eventually maybe I’ll get some of them to talk about their own experiences more.

I’m also however not going to deny that I’m writing about the things she did that annoyed me or set me off.   These feelings will seem stronger to me then outside forces.    Some of it is truly petty, but I needed material to write and I did leave some bigger things off the record for the moment, writing this piece reminded me of the doctor’s issue I mentioned.    I’m not saying I’m done with this series, but for the moment I’m done writing about it.   I may do some more pieces in the future, but it will be about the larger things she did when I have the time, energy, and motivation to write about them.

If your interested here are the links to the stories so far:

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

Read Part 5 Here

Read Part 6 Here

Read Part 7 Here

Read Part 8 Here

Read Part 9 Here

Read Part 10 Here

Read Part 11 here

Read Part 12 Here

Read Part 13 Here

Read Part 14 Here

Read Part 15 Here

Read Part 16 Here

Read Part 17 Here

Read Part 18 Here

Read Part 19 Here

Read Part 20 Here

I think I knew from our first date that my wife was going to be the one I was going to marry.   Granted I literally broke up with my ex the day before I asked her out, but it all worked out.   Though I was twenty -one and she was eighteen it was the first real date either of us had been on.   We had started “going out” with people before, but it was always meeting and doing things in social situations then you labeled as a couple and doing things was just being together and not really a date.  I did ask one girl out on a date previously, but it turned into a double date, so this was my first real date.

It was in September of 1997 and I managed to get off work early and get a hair cut, then I went out to one of our customers and bought her a bouquet of roses.   We went to Chi-Chi’s in Lorain, Ohio driving there in my 1986 Ford Escort.  I ordered a mexican pizza which they burned and she had me send back, and I believe she ordered the chimichanga’s .   We talked about going to the movies afterward and decided on Conspiracy Theory.   Walking to the car I asked her if I was the type of guy she could fall in love with (me=geek, not the best social skills).  She said maybe.   I asked her if I was the type of guy she could see herself marrying, she said she didn’t know.   We then drove over to the movie and had a wonderful time.

A few days later she was having problems with her parents, she was at a cross roads and all upset.  She was sitting on the front stoop of her friends house and that was the first time I ever told her I loved her.  She cried in my arms (not from me saying that, but because of the other stress) and said it back to me.   Three months later we were engaged. Thirteen months later on Jan 2, 1999 we got married.  From that first date until about 2004 when she went back to Ohio to visit family while I was stuck working in Oregon, we never spent more then 24 hours away from one another, over 2600 days of seeing each other at least once every day.

I’m not going to saying everything has always been fantastic, we’ve had our ups and downs.  We have managed to stay together and stay in love.   I love her more each day, and now she is going to be the mother of my child (last year we did say we would do something special for our 10th).  We are opposites, but we are also twins, we are stronger together then we are apart.  We are both critical thinkers, yet I’m the only one that thinks she is the better of the two of us – so sometimes she is wrong.

She is the core of my being and the center of my universe, even though I don’t always show it.   Her thoughts and dreams revolve around mine, like mine do around her.   She is my wife, and I love her.

My sister’s email I published yesterday has my stories out of whack now.   I was originally going to relate the story of my mother and the cedar chest, but I already did that.   If you missed it, here it is:

I will now give you an example I have full memory and first hand knowledge of. It was at a family holiday dinner a few years ago at my grandparents and somehow the morbid subject of what we would like if my grandparents passed on. I stated I would only want one thing, a cedar chest crafted by my grandmother’s cousin. My grandmother chimed in that it was going to be given to her cousin’s family, well my grandmother has said that my whole life, so for thirty years it’s still been sitting there. My mother then said I couldn’t have it because she wanted it. Selfish? Well let’s continue this story.
A few minutes later my mother asked me why I wanted the chest because she thought it was ugly and tacky. I said it was something that would always remind me of my grandparents, their house, and the memories. To me the chest is kind of like a symbol of my grandparents. This prompted me though to ask why did she want it if it was ugly? Her answer? She said she wanted it because I said I wanted it. So I was shocked and called her selfish, I think that was my annual fight that year and I left. It was petty, you would think as adamant as she was when she said she wanted it, that somehow I knew there was a secret stash of money tucked away in it. Nope, she is just worried about someone else getting something she can’t. What a great mother.

I’ll get re-organized through my drafts and getting something new up tomorrow.  Even writing about her is aggravating and putting me all out of sorts.

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

Read Part 5 Here

Read Part 6 Here

Read Part 7 Here

Read Part 8 Here

Read Part 9 Here

Read Part 10 Here

Read Part 11 here

Read Part 12 Here

Read Part 13 Here

Read Part 14 Here

Read Part 15 Here

Read Part 16 Here

Read Part 17 Here

Read Part 18 Here

Read Part 19 Here

Day late…

If you haven’t caught on to this series yet I have mother issues.   Because I have my mother issues I need to sit down and logically recognize what they actually do to me.  Things my mother has made me.

Growing up I was extremely self conscious of everything, how I looked, who had what, etc…  What has happened as an adult is that I just don’t care.   I don’t care what you have.  I want what I want for my own reasons.   As I’m getting older I can care less what society thinks about me, so essentially I’ve become the polar opposite of my mother.   Though Xie will tell me that isn’t always the case.

Because of growing up in my household I learned to thrive in chaos.   This is great in some of things I do since I can make order out of chaos (well at the same time creating more chaos around the thing I made in order).  Unfortunately for those around me this isn’t always a conducive environment for those that deal with me.

I get my anger from my father, and I’ve spent many years getting that in check and controlling.   It’s something I have to deal with.  I have learned however people like my mother are the ones that are most likely to set me off at a moments notice.  This is why I didn’t marry a girl like dear old mom.   My father after the divorce seems to have his anger issues in check, can we say common denominator?

I base(d) alot of what I know about relationships from my parents and their interaction.   When things aren’t going well in my own relationships I’m completely oblivious since things aren’t explosive like my parent’s relationship was.  While our child isn’t born yet we don’t know truly who the enabler and the disciplinarian will be.   I’m pegged for the enabler, and that’s not necessary a good thing.   If I get that from anyone it’s going to be my mother.   I just need to make sure my son doesn’t become a spoiled brat.

Frustration at stupidity.  The exasperation I get over comments that are idiotic, that comes completely from my mother.   I have mentioned her belief that ninja humanoid turtles were possible. I used to do all of her proof reading for her college homework when I was in high school, and I was responsible for the rewrites.  When I was about fourteen she said she was smarter then me.   What she may have meant to said was wiser, though I don’t think that was the case, since if she was wiser or smarter she would have said the word wiser.   Also for anyone wishing to defend her on that one, she still says she is smarter (Oprah must have told her she was).  I have a standing offer to pay for an IQ test so we can settle this once and for all, if she is write (highly unlikely) I may just kill myself since it will be proof that intelligence means nothing. On a side note recently I was just talking about sitting for the Mensa exam.  I don’t know if I’m Mensa smart, I may not be, but I’m confident enough to actually sit for the test.

The last thing is I get insane over little requests people ask of me.   I better be in the right frame of mind because I can go ballistic if it’s something they can do for themselves.   I’ll give you the story I use to describe this whenever I talk to someone about her.   When I was in high school I told my mother I was going to be taking a bath (yes I’m a boy and I like baths get over it).  She acknowledged me and said she was going ot cook dinner.  At this point everything is fine and dandy.   About 10 minutes later I’m in the middle of reading a book and my mother starts screamiming my name.   Now this isn’t a your in trouble name scream, nor was it a where are you at name scream.  What it sounded like was the “OMG THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE” scream.   I threw on a towel and rush down the stairs.

Well the emergency?  My mother needed a wash cloth to do dishes .  Her answer about me being in the bath?  “I forgot”.  In ten minutes she forgot what she had been told and acknowledged (and I’m sure she heard the bath water run) and put all of that aside for her immediate need of a wash cloth.   To make matters worse, she thought I was down in my room.   Now our family was a plit level.  The kitchen on the main floor, the bathroom on the second floor, and my bedroom on the lower floor.   In theory give or take ten feet I would have had to expend the same amount of energy to come from my room or the bathroom to come to the kitchen.   She would have expended half the energy (minus the energy to start yelling) to go down to the second floor and get it herself.  It was absolute pure laziness.   I pointed it out to her, and she didn’t care.   She wasn’t old or invalid, she was healthy and approxiamately the same age as I am now.   The worst part, I was dripping wet, freezing, and I still had to get the washcloth.

I was a sucker and should have said no, but I was a mama’s boy.  That story though is an example of many many things that are quite similar.   Because of her necessity or decorating the house for the holidays, I now loath decorating for the holidays/  I have never had a christmas tree in my  house, that may change next year with the kid on the way.   Compared to my mother’s house and her record breaking three christmas trees she did one year, my house will be quite sparse.

My mother likes to tell people how things are to be decorated and have everyone else do the work.   After the divorce I became the man of  the house.   I learned to loath the holidays.  When your mother is healthy you shouldn’t be fifteen and being Santa Claus setting up the tree late at night for your siblings, but yet I was.  I love the holidays, I just hat emy mothers version of them.  These days though i’m preferring Halloween over Christmas, black and gory for the win.

Ok  I’m stopping now otherwise this will become the post that will never end.

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

Read Part 5 Here

Read Part 6 Here

Read Part 7 Here

Read Part 8 Here

Read Part 9 Here

Read Part 10 Here

Read Part 11 here

Read Part 12 Here

Read Part 13 Here

Read Part 14 Here

Read Part 15 Here

Read Part 16 Here

Read Part 17 Here

A while back I received the following email from my sister (It’s been mildly edited to protect names and some grammar):

So I just read your blog..

I must add something.. and you make me realize mom doesn’t ever say anything nice about me.. and I’m not writing this to bitch about her either but its true.  I went out to eat with her, our sisters,  and our youngest brother the other day and she told our youngest she couldn’t get any peircings because “no preppy girls have them” and how they look like trash.
okay, well she was refering to me

Second.

I told summer she should really think about going to EHOVE (the local vocational school – creeva). Mom goes EHOVE is for people that don’t do good in school and our youngest sister doesn’t want to be apart of that (the sister writing this went to EHOVE – creeva).  Okay.. diss to me again, which i said something.

Third.. mom asks me if i went to Trip Ohio in 8th grade cus our youngest sister will be going next year.  I say, no because she didn’t have the money for me to go so I couldn’t.  I told our youngest sister that at the dinner table and mom denied all of that and said i was lieing.  Right.. my older sister said the same thing thats why we both didn’t go.

THEN..

mom tells me to shut up, then our youngest brother makes a comment to our youngest sister..

“You know why mom is mad at you?   Because you act like [sister writing this email] that’s why she hates you..”

So i wonder what she tells our youngest brother, she hates me?

Nice.

I stormed out of there and left.

Obviously I have replaced my sibling’s names with their rank and order.   We don’t refer to our youngest sister as our youngest sister (who by the way is two years older then my younger brother).   I just don’t want to be the reason their name shows up in a google search.  I did think it was important to show that my views on my mother are not mine alone.   I did receive permission from my sister to use this email, so there is no surprises.

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

Read Part 5 Here

Read Part 6 Here

Read Part 7 Here

Read Part 8 Here

Read Part 9 Here

Read Part 10 Here

Read Part 11 here

Read Part 12 Here

Read Part 13 Here

Read Part 14 Here

Read Part 15 Here

Read Part 16 Here

Read Part 17 Here

Read Part 18 Here

This one is a day late……

A few months ago I wrote about the girl that was my longest relationship before my wife.  Well this girl was a lot like my mother.  She was very bossy and wanted things a certain way.  She cared about the appearance of things and not the reality.   I don’t want to hash everything I wrote in the other post here again, so I won’t.   Read the link if you want ot hear more about her.

On the other hand, during that whole on again off again relationship, I managed to essentially date and live with a girl just like mom.  It was the relationship from hell, and I’m sure part of me deserved it.  The best thing is after the relationship was over and I was with my future wife I saw how much that girl was like my mother.   It also made me realize how much I’m like my father.   So in turn I realized how much it was never going to work out.

Maybe my anger towards my ex bleeds over to the anger I have my mother (or vice versa).  Who knows.

This wasn’t meant to be a long post, but more of one stating that I did not marry a girl just like mom.  I just dated one.

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

Read Part 5 Here

Read Part 6 Here

Read Part 7 Here

Read Part 8 Here

Read Part 9 Here

Read Part 10 Here

Read Part 11 here

Read Part 12 Here

Read Part 13 Here

Read Part 14 Here

Read Part 15 Here

Read Part 16 Here

Sorry – this one is a couple of days late.

My parents don’t get along. I mean really don’t get along at all. I’m not sure I can stress this enough. My father always seemed to be doing what he did in the best interest of the children. My mother on the other hand was in a money grab and used leverage. This was nothing out of the norm from before the divorce however.

From about age seven until age fifteen, I was keenly aware that my parents did not have a good marriage.  I remember telling my friends that my parents were going through a divorce.   Ironically, they managed to keep going and going (along the way they also had two more kids).  My parents were a mismatch from the beginning, and if I had not entered the picture they might not have gotten together.  They did and now for some historical information.

My father attempted to be the disciplinary or the family, my mother was the enabler.   She was very much the enabler.   If  my father tried to set something down (this is looking back mind you), my mother would take a position just to be the opposite of him.   Of course if my mother wanted to agree with him, I could just bring out that everyone was doing something, this would normally allow me to gain her consent.

Now some of this I remember and some of this is stories passed down, I’m going to try to remove the bias and just give you some examples:

When we were living in Elyria, we didn’t make a ton of money.  Sometimes we were scraping by month to month.  It something that happens to a lot of families, and even as an adult I still find myself doing that most the time.  One month we had twenty dollars left in the bank account.   My father was counting on this money to provide lunch meat for himself for work.   My mother on the other side had other plans.  Knowing full well how much money was in the bank she went out and bought wash clothes, effectively draining the bank account.

My mother was never happy with what she had.   My father was constantly remodeling to her tastes.   He learned a lot of things about working on a house, so I guess you could say that’s a good thing.   I however remember the house always being in the state of flux as some project or another was constantly being performed.  Of course now as an adult I leverage my father for knowledge he gained from that experience, but my wife can’t live in that sort of atmosphere.  So that tidbit is something to take for taste.

During the early nineties my mother decided she wanted her own money.   That’s a good thing.  She decided she was going to make dolls and enlisted my father and my grandmother on her venture.  She made enough to buy a living room set after hours and hours of labor and sewing on all three of them.  I remember I did a bit of stuffing myself, but I don’t believe I did much else.   Now you would think that this is a good example of the family working together.  However, my mother didn’t seem to understand the concept of “cost of manufacturing”.  She believed that it was pure profit and just poo poo’ed all the money that it cost to create the dolls before sales.   Thinking back I hope my father set the profit margin, since my mom would have probably sold them for a loss and then went “Golly, look at all the money I have from sales”.

Before moving on to the post divorce era I’m going to relate one last story.  There was a movie I wanted to see (I was 15) – it was “People Under the Stairs” and I wanted to go with a friend.   My father said no, it was an R rated movie and he didn’t want me to go.   My mother snuck money to me and dropped me off to see the movie.   She was in full enabler mode.   Later when my father found out the fight between them was explosive, don’t mix two volatile chemicals together.   I have my father issues I may write about another time, but this month is about mom.

After the divorce my father and I didn’t talk for a few years.   We talked lightly after awhile, but it didn’t start getting regular until I was traveling for consulting.   This led to a whole new ball game in dealing with them.  I didn’t want to accidently pass information from one side to another, but at the same time I had to make my feelings known.   I would get my fahter to talk about things my mother had told me – indirectly inquiring.   I also did the same thing on the reverse.

The problem is I normally sided with my father’s point of view.   I was this go between, trying to maintain peace on each side of the family.   When I first moved into my house i was in the middle of everyone, so my house was going to be the holiday get together place.  A Switzerland where neither side could fight.   Well that didn’t last long before i stopped talking ot my mother.

The most interesting thing was the Thanksgiving when we first moved back to Ohio.   On my father’s side all of his siblings still get together the weekend after Thanksgiving to have a family meal.  My brother lives next door to my father.  My mother was staying at my Brother’s house that day……

Somehow, in some wierd mix up of the galaxy, my mother invited herself over to my father’s house.  (I’ve mentioned that they do not get along at all).   Her excuse was to see all of my aunt’s and uncles who could care less about her.   The rest of the family completely agrees that she was there only to see the house and see how my father was doing.   I don’t know how she managed ot get the nerve, but I wouldn’t enter the den of a place where I know I’m not wanted.

But maybe she just wanted to see if my father’s curtains made her look fat……..

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

Read Part 5 Here

Read Part 6 Here

Read Part 7 Here

Read Part 8 Here

Read Part 9 Here

Read Part 10 Here

Read Part 11 here

Read Part 12 Here

Read Part 13 Here

Read Part 14 Here

Read Part 15 Here

At one point in this whole debacle where I stopped talking to my mom, Xie thought she would try to mend things. She dropped me off at burger king to eat and went over to my mothers to talk (this is all second hand mind compared to most things I’ve written). Xie sat her down and told her she was going to push her children away one by one if she continued down the path she was going. That my mother had to pick herself up, get a job and move forward being an example (I’m sure Xie will comment on this story to fill in more details).

The selfish thing my mom said to my wife? “You don’t have to have a job why should I?”

Now because this is second hand I normally wouldn’t have included this, but I wanted to point out Xie’s effort. This wasn’t the first time my mother had said this. There are a lot of answers to this.

1. Xie has a supportive husband that hadn’t left her once and possibly will again
2. Xie spends her free time learning and expanding herself – my mothers expansion comes from Oprah and Dr. Phil
3. Xie doesn’t have two children at home not even teenagers yet that need to eat and hopes daddy will give mommy child support money
4. Xie isn’t a leech that feels entitled to it, she has offered to work many times, I don’t understand why both of us need to be miserable for a few extra bucks

While my mother is grazing the home shopping network for things to buy, Xie is doing Algebra out of text books for fun. There is a world of difference. Most notably my mother needed an income she could trust to take care of her kids and not ask friends and family for money to get by.

I will now give you an example I have full memory and first hand knowledge of. It was at a family holiday dinner a few years ago at my grandparents and somehow the morbid subject of what we would like if my grandparents passed on. I stated I would only want one thing, a cedar chest crafted by my grandmother’s cousin. My grandmother chimed in that it was going to be given to her cousins family, well my grandmother has been saying that my whole life, so for thirty years it’s still been sitting there. My mother then said I couldn’t have it because she wanted it. Selfish? Well let’s continue this story.

A few minutes later my mother asked me why I wanted the chest because she thought it was ugly and tacky. I said it was something that would always remind me of my grandparents, their house, and the memories. To me the chest is kind of like a symbol of my grandparents. This prompted me though to ask why did she want it if it was ugly? Her answer? She said she wanted it because I said I wanted it. So I was shocked and called her selfish, I think that was my annual fight that year and I left. It was petty, you would think as adamant as she was when she said she wanted it, that somehow I knew there was a secret stash of money tucked away in it. Nope, she is just worried about someone else getting something she can’t. What a great mother.

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My Mother, a grown woman now in her 50′s is still scared to death of her father.  She will do anything to avoid getting a lecture from him, this includes just telling him what he wants to hear, regardless if she is sincere or not.  My grandfather does have wisdom, but at the same time he doesn’t understand the world I live in, so I will challenge him, or tell me when he is wrong.

My mother on the other hand sometimes gets upset and will snap at him, but for the most part she cows down to him, or turns to my grandmother for support.  I think in her mind, if she attempts to placate him the issues won’t be there, the fear she has, the feelings of inadequacy that she seems to show after dealing with him.  She tells me I don’t understand.   I do understand, my grandfather is one of the most intimidating people in the family.   My siblings are still scared of him, we also all adore him.  My wife thinks he is just like a big gruff teddy bear – I’m not sure I would go that far…

If my grandfather showed up at my mom’s house unexpected and she noticed him, well then she would attempt the ten second clean up as he walked to the front door. I know she loves her father, but she (at the time anyways) dreaded his visits because she knew she was going to get lectured.

Like I said I stand up to my grandfather, my grandfather once asked my mother why she doesn’t stand up to him like I do. Maybe it’s a challenge to help her grow. She has somethings she definitely needs to work before she is capable of not being that ten year old girl in his shadow any more.

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For some reason it’s a considered a cardinal sin in society to talk about people behind their backs.  In my family however it’s an Olympic event.   I’m not sure my mother would get the gold, but I’m sure she would at least get the silver.

When you live in a split family you get used to what you can tell one side or tell the other. The hard part however is not admitting you talked to the other side at all. Once my mother finds out she grilled me on what my father had to say, though I never really passed the information along that he gave me. In the reverse I never passed it along the other way either. I was not the hub of their game of telephone, nor was I going to start to be.

The whole issue that led up to us not speaking she still blames on my father.  She thinks my father sent me on some fools errand that was not accurate. Ironically what my father told me was accurate by my mother’s own admittal. My father however didn’t prompt me to take action, what I wanted ot do to help my sister was for myself alone. It was me being a big brother.

The irony of this it seems what I hear through the family grapevine that my father seems to get more blame for me not talking to my mother then I do. Who would have thought. I obviously must be a puppet that can be controlled, that has no independent thought or feelings. I know some people are like that, not me though.

The whole problem is that it’s not just my mother. Like I said talking behind the back is an Olympic sport in these parts. Whenever I try to lay out what everyone is saying to everyone else, I’m the bad guy. I’m the bad guy because I lay it out on the line.

Well I guess this is why I’m blogging about it, I’m laying it out on the line.

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My mother loves to gossip.  She loves to spread gossip.  She loves to receive gossip.  If you are familar with the musical “The Music Man” at all she is one of the “Pick A little, Talk A Little Women”

She would go to the community pool under the pretext of watching my sisters swim. If however there was no one to gossip with she would pack up and either take my sisters home, or get someone else to watch them. I’m sure my mother misses the hey day of the beauty parlor where all the women sat around and gossiped. I’m sure in some areas these still exist, but not really in her neck of the woods. Besides she felt superior becuase she had “her” beautician that she went to.

Her beautician always made sure that her hair came out with that blond color that she was born with. All those pictures I’ve posted of her as a toddler on up that have dark hair? Well I guess my mother believes that those are all bad exposures since she swears the blond she has now is her natural color. Ironically it’s because of her and the lies about her hair color that I refuse to ever dye my hair to hide my gray. I’m not going to tell people my hair is a certain way. Granted I’ve dyed my hair black for a costume, I’ve also done purple and blue – heaven help those that thought those colors were natural. I actually have my mother’s native hair color, I’m just not in denial.

My mother would love to gossip. She would spend hours on the phone talking to friends about who was having marriage issues, who was having works issue, who bought something new, and who was stuck with something old. If she didn’t have any friends at a given time she would either try to get me involved (I never had an interest so I’m sure she bored of me) or she would enlist my grandmother (who had the same enthusiasm as I did).

You would think she would like to discuss something of interest, but the most poignant she ever got to real life events was what new Longaberger baskets were coming out or discussions about Dr. Phil and Oprah – it seems to her these are the messiahs of the new world order. Who knew?

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As far back as I remember when I went to someone’s house the first question my mother asked me when I got home was never “Did you have fun?” Maybe that was too plebeian for her and her non-bourgeois ways. She didn’t want to be like every other mother on the planet and ask the obvious question. The question she did ask? Well that was “What did their house look like?” My mother was obsessed with other people’s housing decorations and using her eight year old son to do her scouting for her. I was a bad a scout thought, my answer until I was eighteen and moved out was almost always “It’s a house, with stuff in it”. She tried to grill me further and if she was lucky she sometimes got to pluck out some of the details she wanted.

Whenever my mother went to a house she seemed to case the joint like a burglar. What she wanted to steal though was not anything tangible they owned. What she wanted to do was find something that either she could use in her own decor, or talk about with her friends about how much she disliked it. If you didn’t fit in one side of the spectrum you immediately fit into the other side.

If something was featured on Oprah as must have, my mom would scheme to buy it. I can only assume she owns both a Wii and Kindle. I don’t know why she would buy a kindle though, she doesn’t read. I’m not saying she is incapable of reading, only that she prefers every bit of information spoon fed to her through network television compared to any other avenue. I swear my mother thinks the purpose of the newspaper is to hold her shopping advertisements.

She attempted to justify her moronic decision to make the first room you enter in the house being the dining room because one of her friends did it. This was one of those moments where you say, if all your friends are jumping off a bridge would you do it? (My answer to that question has always been “How high is the bridge? Is there water underneath it?” How many friends are we talking about and have they all survived?”) Either way a stupid design choice is a stupid design choice, copying it just makes you dumber.

The correct answer to why you do such a thing? Well I could say it fits until our routine better, it makes the house more functional, who cares about the norm or aesthetics, or it’s my house and I like it. However hiding behind that your friend does it so you decided to do it? That shows you have no thought in the problem other then some selfish little need of instant gratification that you are trying to get fulfilled.

I understand why my mom wants to decorate or own things that other people do. It’s called a psychological term called mirroring. If someone mimics your body movements your mirroring them. It allows for a repertoire to form, a link if you will. People like people that are like them. In some mis-guided learning my mother thinks she needs to dress, talk, and live like everyone else – otherwise she is non-existent. If she isn’t acknowledged because she isn’t like everyone else she get depressed. The whole problem is when you live your life by mirroring all those around you all the time, you are no longer an individual. You are a member of society, but your not going to help further it or challenge new and original thought.

Every single idea my mother has had for house design or money making has been because someone else has done it first and she thinks she can do it also. Mind you she doesn’t think she can do it better, she thinks she can do it just as well and get the same compliments for it. Because of this my mother doesn’t do anything well beyond “keeping up with the Jones’”.

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My mother is obsessed with her house.   She thinks it is the most important thing in the world.  Above keeping adequate food in the house even.   If she needs something she’ll beg, plead, and cry until she gets her way.   She is as spoiled as she has made any of her children.

Her rational seems to be that people will look at her as a better person if she has a nicer house and furniture (a screwed assessment in my belief). Not only will they look at her as a better person, I honestly believe that she thinks it does make it her a better person. Should could have been Mother Theresa and feeding starving children on the streets of Calcutta and she would still be a terrible person in her mind if she didn’t have the greatest modern style in her house.

My father did amazing work remodeling the house of my parents originally bought it. In the end it was a useful, functional, and livable house. My step-father isn’t too shabby at work also, yet his designs are not as well thought out. He (with I’m sure my mothers chiding) turned half the garage into a ten foot by ten foot dining room. It was cramped and never felt right. It also negated half the garage and made it so you couldn’t pull a car in any longer. To make matters worse he had to put one to two wall jacks for various services into each wall in the room. Idiotic for a dining room. If you need that kind of outlet space get a surge protector, because I know her didn’t put a better breaker in the house.

My mother must have reached the realization at one point that this was a bad spot for a dining room. So she turned the front living room into a dining room. At first line this doesn’t sound too bad, until you realize there is no atrium or anything, so the dining room is the first room you enter when you walk into the house.

The last time I was there the house was so transformed you could hardly recognize it anymore. What used to be a livable space that felt like a lived home is slowly being transformed into a model home that just has residents. It is not a place you would ever feel comfortable in. While it doesn’t look bad, it looks like no one lives there except for the mess, maybe weekend renters that haven’t cleaned up yet. A nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.

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I don’t have my child yet, let alone more then one. I do however suspect parents have a favorite child. If not a direct favorite, at least a favorite to do certain things with. My parents were no different. I could pull out favoritism on my father’s side, but that doesn’t matter, when that was evident and apparent I didn’t like him very much. My mother on the other hand is what this piece is really about anyways.

My mother’s favorite child was either the trophy child or the youngest child. Sometimes they were the same child, other times they weren’t. I’m not going to say I was never the favorite child, I was quite a bit. i was the oldest child of her six, so being the first I’m sure she always had a bit of pride in me (of course now that this web series has ran….). But like most families the youngest child, the baby of the family, was always doted upon quite a bit. As far as i can remember I never minded, so that never bothered me.

The trophy child on the other hand was my brother immediately behind me. He was as spoiled as my youngest brother. He seems to have turned out just find, though a strong sibling rivalry is still there. Now I’m sure the question s why is he the trophy child. Well at one point he decided that he wanted to live with my father.  This was all well and good and lasted a few months (year?).  Until he started getting disciplined.

On a weekend visit to my mother, my brother just didn’t go back to my fathers.   My father didn’t fight custody over the matter, if my brother wanted to live with my mother, so be it.   The key is that my brother had hardly any rules placed upon him.  He was the biggest wild child of all of us.  That doesn’t make him a bad person, he seems to have turned out alright.   I don’t care that I had more rules placed upon me, I’m the oldest, it’s my job to take the brunt of everything.  I’m perfectly fine with that.   Maybe that’s why I’m so accepting of life now.

My brother got away with this because back in my mother’s brain, if she didn’t indulge him, then she would loose him again to my father.   My father and brother were very close when he was younger, this was my mother’s way to split a wedge in there.   It took years for my brother to talk to my father again, a lot of this is because of the poisoning that my mother had done.   He was her trophy over my father and she wasn’t going to let go of that.   I’m sure he doesn’t look at it that way, or is even aware of it.

My sisters on the other hand got both the poisoning against my father (it didn’t take) and none of the perks.   Even a decade after my brother had left the house, my sister (from the same father) had a much harder time and more rules placed on her then any of hte rest of us had.   She was actively disciplined, yelled at, and talked down to.   I’m sure my youngest brother won’t ever go through and be treated that way.  He’ll be coddled and spoiled, and probably living with my mother until he’s thirty, or at least until he wises up.

In the end it works out though, my brother can do no wrong in my mothers eyes (heck she even drank with him underage).  She has the same blinders towards him that her parents have towards her.   He gives her love, he doesn’t question her, he doesn’t push her to be a  better person.  Since they view the world in similar ways and there is no tension between them, he has become her perfect child. During my mother’s latest separation my brother even told my father that she didn’t have to worry because we’d take care of her. I’m not sure where this “we” comes from. Never was I going to financially support my mother, even when we were getting along.

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While I lived in Oregon, a lot of my life was peaceful on the family front.  I only spoke to my mother maybe a dozen times tops while I lived there.   I didn’t have to deal with her drama on a weekly or daily basis.  I was 2500 miles away and it was easy to avoid.  Just don’t pick up the phone.   That part is really easy for me, since I hardly notice the phone or pick it up naturally unless I’m on the clock and the phone could be work.

I either had to deal with family emergencies or the occasional holiday call. i didn’t talk to any of the family with regularity until I was traveling for work, at that point I was talking mostly with my father. Occasionally I would call and end up talking to one of my sisters. They would tell me of what my mother was doing to them. Some of it was exaggeration, some of it was deserved, but some of it was not.

In the few occasions I thought my mother took it too far, I called my grandmother.and tried to get her to intercede on my sister’s behalf. Sometimes she didn’t believe me, seeing how her daughter couldn’t do anything like that. Other times she said she had talked to her about it and couldn’t take it further. Neither of my grandparents are bad people. They both have my love and complete devotion. They are just in denial over what my mother actually does.

Neither of them are callous. They have both earned my respect. My grandmother once even told me that they have enabled my mother to be helpless and rely on other people. She also said it was a mistake and never intentional.

So while in Oregon life was good. The stress of family was at the lowest point ever, I didn’t worry about it.  I’m almost there again.

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Rather building up to the explosive end, I figured it better to start at the end and show how it built up to that.   Hopefully this will allow me to end this journey with something nice to say.   Since we’re not finished yet I guess I won’t know.  My family is screwed up, tht’s not a lie.   I don’t think however it’s any more unique or screwed then anyone else’s.   So I guess as I go through this journey I will classify us as normal.   Some scenes may seem absurd.   Some will seem strange.  I however grew up with a better life with then some people I know so she would be responsible for that.   However i can’t go home again.   She told me so, I have no home except my own.

Tomorrow I’ll give more background leading up to the last day I talked to my mother face to face, however we’re looking at that day first.   Time to go back 2.5 years ago.  I arrived over to my mother’s house to help my sister out.   My sister had special juice my father had purchased for her (i don’t remember why), and it was being drank by my other siblings (not my fathers children).  My youngest brother, was actively allowed to enter her room at all time and she wasn’t allowed to lock her doors.   My mother was actively looking to drive her out, though she was waiting until she graduated.

I came over to come to my sisters rescue.   The first thing my mother does is deny any of this happening.   Then she comes and admits it, but comes up with excuses on how the different things happen.   At this point trying to maintain the peace all around I offered to bring in a mini fridge for my sister and buy a lock for her door since my mother can’t maintain boundaries for my youngest sister from both my biological parents.   Since my sister was the last one of the four of us in the house, she got it hte worst.   All the problems that the rest of us went through kept compounding on her (why my sister talks to her now I can’t fathom).

The first excuse is that my mother won’t have a locking door in her house because my sister doesn’t need privacy that no one would invade her space.  Secondly she said she wasn’t going to pay the electric bill a mini fridge would cost, my step father at this point came down the stairs and started to chime in.   I told him to shut the hell up (ok I used stronger language), the man who had abandoned my mother for over a year had no say in this dicussion in my book, he had been back less then month.

I had heard my mom cry about how much she hated him.   The main reason they got back together?  The noble thing would be to say it was love, maybe it will be again for them.   However my mother’s excuse to me over the previous month of deciding if she was going ot take him back was two-fold the first is that she didn’t want to die alone – fair enough.   The second was the part that disgusted me, she didn’t feel she had to work.  She complained that this was her time to enjoy with grandchildren and she shouldn’t have to work.   She told me how she was going to pay all the bills with her inheritance and be happy.  That was the life she always envisioned and she was upset she wasn’t going to get it.  She sounded like the preppy girl complaining that she came in second place in a beauty pagent, and if she cried and screamed loud enough someone else would fix it.

She got back together with him, not for love, but live a more comfortable life.   Why I won’t explicitly say that, someone who lies in bed with someone else for money as the primary reason…….

I knew this, my siblings knew this, my wife knew this.   He held no power over me and I wasn’t going to have any of it.   He had put my mother through months of pain, helping my mother out because of this was part of the reason I moved back to Ohio from Oregon.   I had been a part of that house and family for many years.   At this point he asked me to leave.   As I’m walking out I’m still arguing on my way to the car.   My mother told me the words that are opposite of what I’ve been told that a mother is supposed to say – she told me that it wasn’t my home anymore.

I had grown up my whole life with my mother telling me that it would always be my home.   She however would choose to be with her part time husband and choose his side over mine.   It wasn’t the first time she did that though.  My step father told me to never come back and I wasn’t welcome there anymore.   So be it.   My mother has relinquished what she wants or believes in for her comfort.   She tries now to deny what she said (like she always denies what she says) but my wife heard it also and her jar dropped.   My wife had seen the drag out fights amongst my family, and this wasn’t the worst.  This was my mother clinging to safety and the fear of being alone.  If I thought she did it because she wanted to, because love made her do strange things, then I would forgive.  My mother is more calculating in protecting herself though.  She will protect herself over the expense of others.

For the record if my step father ever shows up on my door step, the first thing I’m doing is calling the police.

This is the incident that is the proverbial straw.  Does it sound stupid?  I’m sure it does.   I won’t deny it.   Starting tomorrow we’ll be working on how we got to here.

Read Part 1 Here