My Wife and Kids Saturday January 31, 2009Posted by gingerbreadman in Uncategorized.
Last night’s episode was about their eldest daughter deciding she was really, really, really ready to have sex with her long-time boyfriend. She did all the right things: come talk to Mom about it first, make sure she and the bf were both protected, examined herself to make sure she was physically and emotionally ready….and of course her Mom freaked anyway.
Dad was even worse. He had the talk with the boy, and the boy assured him how much in love they were, showed old Dad the condoms, discussed this and that…and since it was a comedy, no blood was shed and no one went to jail.
The parents finally snapped, gave the boy a sleeping pill, the girl snuck out the window and met the bf at the motel but Divine Fate/Faith intervened when upon opening the bedside drawer to put away the extra condoms, the boy found THE BIBLE!!!
Of course, innocent boy and girl did not know bibles were in every hotel room, saw it as a sign and skedaddled.
If it were only so in real life.
I don’t know about sons. All I know about sons is through my stepson, and none of that is good. We just got a call yesterday and that boy is back in Juvenile Center again, after less than a month after leaving our house: fighting an officer, controlled substances, affiliation with a gang while on probation and three other charges he was on probation for that he’s now got to serve out since he’s busted again.
Daughters I know. One thing I know about daughters as a woman and mother is that their virginity is a thing that starts weighing heavily on Momma’s mind about the time they hit 12 nowadays, sooner if you watch the news or The Secret Life of an American Teenager.
I’ve been arrogant. I’ve been prideful. I’ve bragged and almost touted myself as some sort of expert on how to keep little girls from throwing themselves down and giving it up early simply because my first two girls were adults before embarking on their sexual experiences and waiting for men they truly loved and had long-term relationships with. Now I’m brought low and sad and sick. My baby Em, fourteen at the time, and without so much as a word, hint, discussion, guilty look, ‘went there’ with Jeremy back in July.
Looking back now, I can rationalize and see the tumultuousness of the time in her life. It wasn’t long after her Popa did what he did to her. It was also right after our move. I was not in the best of emotional shape. Neither was she. She probably felt that she needed to erase that old man’s experience from her body any way possible, and I can even rationalize how she didn’t feel she could come to me with it beforehand-also she said it was a spur-of-the-moment decision they made. But then, she didn’t tell me for months.
That’s what hurts. Burns. She didn’t tell me, and what’s worse…I didn’t see it. I noticed she was becoming more obsessed with Jeremy than EVER. She freaked out completely if she got grounded and couldn’t talk to him every day, or her time online or on the phone was curbed and *totally* lost it if they were in a fight. She began to talk to me more about their physical relationship and how she wanted to go a little farther, and stupid me, I counselled her to take it slow after all she’d been through, to lean on him for emotional support, not physical.
Thank the Gods-it was a painful and unpleasant experience and she realized she wasn’t physically or emotionally really prepared or ready. She was coming to me to try to "lead up to telling me what had happened". Thank goodness I kept my shit when she did tell me. I did all my crying for the times she wasn’t around. Sometimes I still cry.
We stopped allowing her to go to his home since that’s where it happened….WITH HIS MOTHER AT HOME AT THE TIME!!!!!! He doesn’t want to come here since 1) I know what happened 2) I called his Mother and told her what happened and she’s not real happy with him either. They’d almost decided to break up anyway. I wish they’d just finish and get it done already. I know if I see him again I’ll be much less dignified than the fictious Kyle family on TV. That boy’s got a kick in the groin coming to him.
Whole Damn World’s Gone to Blogger Thursday January 29, 2009Posted by gingerbreadman in Uncategorized.
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Ice Storm Wednesday January 28, 2009Posted by gingerbreadman in Uncategorized.
It’s the angst-ridden, spew-Lynn’s-guts-out past few months of life and all the damn and damned realizations I’ve made about myself since then.
I thought about launching a month-by-month recitation. Then I thought about the oh so popular bullet entry system that has the punch of getting it right out there but lacks the explanation factor. But then, this isn’t a book, or even a novella, is it, and it’s funny how even six months of crap can turn into a book’s worth of material if you’re the owner of a passel of daughters, have a dysfunctional larger family, the stepson from hell, your kid has a boyfriend whose only mission in life is to destroy your beloved’s life and you’ve gone off your sanity meds.
So I think I’m just going to write them line-by-line as I come to think of them, hopefully in chronological order, and then when one of them in weighing on me the most, or I’m ready to cry, bleed, rant, scream or rationally discuss the ramifications the effects of it all on me, the family, I’ll just write about it.
There’s the still lingering disastrous memories and feelings of what my father and Emmy’s Popa did to us in June. My Mother came to me at the beginning of November and begged me to forgive him if it were possible and for us all to come to her house for Thanksgiving because she still hadn’t told my second brother TJ about the incident and if we weren’t there then my brother’s wife Holly wouldn’t come and TJ would realize something big had gone done and demand to know what it was and then the BIG SECRET would come out and she’d lose her family and way of life forever. All that shit on mine and Emmy’s shoulders. Nice. She had ME bawling and feeling like a bad guy for not forgiving the man yet, for not being a good enough Christian. At least she conceded that Emily could stay home with "some kind of ailment" if only the rest of us would come. First it’s "please don’t put him in jail, the entire town would know and it wouldn’t help him at all, he’s ‘ill’ and it wouldn’t fix the problem" and now it’s please come play nice so I don’t lose my son.
So I went. We all went. Even Emily, under the effects of a half a valium, and thank God she doesn’t remember any of it. I even talked Holly into coming, to help support me and Emily. And less than a month later, my Mother threw me, and all her granddaughters under the bus for her husband.
So I have no Mother any longer. Have had no father since June.
I think I’ve written that we all went back to our old home with Mike. The girls thought I wanted to come home. I thought the girls wanted to come home. After a month we both found out neither of us wanted that, but here we damn are, and now we’re just going to stay for a while, Some things are better, some are the same.
Daniel, Mike’s son was here for two months. My health problems multipliplied from the stress, as they always do. A sixteen year old young man who was sent here to avoid a six-month stint in Juvenile (his fourth) with attitude to spare, who called his father Mike, made his disdain for Kentucky, everyone in this house except Laura screamingly apparent, and told lie after lie, and truth after truth for the sole purpose of getting someone else into trouble. It was hell. The funny thing is, I respected him in a way- for he is one of those people who is completely and absolutely *who he is* to all and sundry, unapologetically. He told us all he hated us, didn’t want to be here, would do everything he could to disrupt our ‘happy little sickening home’ because we didn’t deserve it because we had the man who’d ruined his life. That kind of honesty, chilling as it is, is at least refreshing. Glory be he got his Christmas presents (another big reason he showed up when he did) and bailed out of here shortly afterward. I’ve finally stopped throwing up and shaking a month later.
Emily, with the boyfriend Jeremy I knew was going to send me to the deep end and pull her heart too far, along with the rest of her, managed it. She’s not a little girl, anymore, to put it delicately…at the age of almost 15. The part that hurts me the most is the betrayal. We made promises to each other from early on, I did all those things I was supposed to do, that worked with Jess and Becca, and still, she went there SO early, TOO DAMN EARLY, and didn’t tell me until months afterward. The only thing she did right was use protection. Thank God she listened to that part. And thank the heavens she hated it! And the aftermath of it all is she’s finally decided to dump him. I just hope it sticks.
I took to the bed. I mean TOOK TO THE BED. I got up to take Laura to pre-school, got up to go read to her class every afternoon before picking her up, did a few loads of laundry, made dinner some times, left it to the girls or told them all to do for themselves the other nights and just stayed curled up in my self-loathing, depression and despair. If it hadn’t been for Mike calling me a zombie and blaming it on my anti-depression meds I’d still be there. The moron still doesn’t get that at least 1/3 of my problem is that HIS ASS being home 89% of the time drives me nuts too. Bad weather in the North means no trucks come South. No trucks here mean no breakdowns here. No breakdowns mean no money, no Mike GOING TO WORK, NO ALONE TIME FOR LYNN. *insert frustrated scream here*
So I stopped taking one of the anti-depressants I’ve been on since the aneurysm. I mean, how am I supposed to *know* if I’m even healed up in the emotional section of the brain if they’re constantly feeding me the same pill forever. I know I have more energy, even if my body is worn out from doing more exercise.
I’m tired of writing. I’ll write more notes about the teenagers and how the "No more chores for you."….Or: Mom’s Experiment to see if they’ll actually do something to help around here for there own selves.
Failingly spectacularly, of course….
Except for Emmy.
Big Empty Space Monday January 26, 2009Posted by gingerbreadman in Uncategorized.
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If only I could say the same for Lynn in Real Life. Ha.
The problem is that Ol’ Lynn didn’t handle any of it well. At all. And life didn’t handle Lynn well at all either. I suppose there are times when times are just very, very trying, and you either stand up to them in good stead, or you curl up in a fetal position with your thumb in your mouth. I sort of went for the in-between measure.
If nothing else could be said for the last six months, it’s taught me finally who I am, what I’m made of, what’s happened to me internally in the past couple years. Not too happy with any of it.
This is my test run to see if I can start writing again. For me, not for anyone else. Not for approval, or friendship, or to have people make me feel better about myself and tell me what a great mom, person, whatever I am. I’ve found out in the last six months that Oh Hell…No. I’m not. I’m quite the lousy mom, friend, person in a lot of ways. I’ve failed miserably so spectacularly that even I am amazed at my own accomplishments, and I’ve always had a healthy imagination *and* I’d thought I’d seen a lot. One of the only things that has helped assuage my severe case of guilt about abandoning everyone here who has been so very kind to me is that at least I’ve not had to listen to people tell me "it’s okay, it’s not your fault, etc…"
Sometimes you do have to face yourself, your faults, kick yourself around the room for a while and deal.