Tag Archives: crazy family
I guess I should have been more specific when I declared 2012 the year of the baby.
Every time I go up to The Hills to visit my family, I side-eye all the Walmart shopping, GMO and McDonalds eating, Obama hating, never leaving the country because Amerika ROXs! white trash. But this trip? I realized that I had officially outdone any of them. I realized that I would never picture my life as a movie. Unless it was a lifetime movie of the week. Or perhaps a short lived TLC series. Never anything meant for the big screen. I will never be able to sit back and dream of Anjelina Jolie playing me in my biopic. Maybe Kim Kardasian. Or Lindsey Lohan. Or some 90′s star from a sitcom that no one remembers.
A meer 9 days after my final BFuckingN, I load Monkey in the car and headed for The Hills to see my family. And? To help my 39 week pregnant daughter-in-law prepare for my grandsons arrival.
I just don’t get people who don’t take care of themselves. I don’t mean those of us who need to eat less, or exercise more, or perhaps cut back on the yummy cocktails. I’m talking about people who are just plain self destructive. I think we were all a little self destructive when we are teens. We pushed limits and explore our surroundings and revel in the feeling of being indestructible. Most people grow out of that in their 20′s. A few not till their 30′s. And then there are a few people, like my MIL, age 68, who are still pretty sure they are indestructible.
My brain knows its a disease, but my heart hurts to watch her destroy herself.
I spent this past weekend in the boondocks with family so I could attend my future daughter-in-laws bridal shower. Because she and my current daughter-in-law are good friends, she was there in all her pregnant glory.
I should also mention that my future DIL’s large family is very religious and extremely conservative.
It was also very hot.
This is possibly as close to hell as I’m going to get before I die.
I was able to step away with pregnant DIL for a bit to have a nice talk. She is not close to her mother and has yet to tell her that she is pregnant. Her mom didn’t even come to the wedding. So, she see’s me as her mother. She and my son had talked about it, and would like me to be in the room when the baby is born – if possible. She has to have a c-section because her insurance doesn’t allow vbacs.
(Deep breath. Thats another
rant post for another time.)
When you find your teenager is having sex and you’re all hyperventilating and freaking out and telling them that they could have a screaming pooping baby or a fun STD, step back for a moment, take a deep breath and calmly tell them the real truth. The real scary thing about teen sex. Terrifying even.
That they could be a grandparent when they are 40. Actually, in my case .I will have just turned 43.
Seriously? I’m still trying to figure out what happened to the entirety of my 30′s, let alone my early 40′s.
My brain is still trying to process the wrinkly squinty woman in the mirror.
This means my mom will be a great grandmother at 62. My grandfather will be 83 and a Great Great Grandfather. I think he may be the one most excited about this situation. I mean, aside from my damn kid.
I was the oldest of three latchkey kids so it was my responsibility to remember the key. It was on a long chain that I was supposed to wear under my shirt. When I forgot the key, the three of us where locked out of the house until our parents came home about dinner time.
Ironically, had they been home, we would have been told to play outside until dinner time.
Needless to say, my nine year old brain could not seem to remember the key more then say, half the time.
This meant a lot of time sitting on the porch waiting for parents to come home and spend the evening scolding me, and finally telling me that I would have to write, 1000 times, I will not forget my house key the next time I left home without it.
Which took approximately, one day.
I was condemned to write after school and on weekends until I had finished. Then I could once again and go outside and play.
I met my ex-husband when I was a 15 year old living on the streets. I wasn’t looking for trouble, but being a scrawny runaway with huge boobs and low self esteem, trouble seemed to be my tour guide.
It was like I had Jiminy Crickets slightly demented cousin on my shoulder. You know, they one they never talk about ’cause he’s not been right since someone stepped on his head? (Why sure you should get in the car with those boys. After all, one of them remembers seeing your friend at a party a couple weeks ago so they TOTALLY know each other. And besides -THEY HAVE A CAR! Totally safe.)
Oh. And they had drugs and beer. So yeah. How could I turn that down?
And surPRISE surPRISE surPRISE! I ended up pregnant. Almost immediately. I was freaky fertile.
Yes. Everyone except my elderly grandfather, but even he knows something is up. My older kids figured it out when they were in their late teens. For the most part it’s not really discussed though. It’s not a big deal after all these years. It was at first of course, but then, like any kind of Coming Out, family realize that they need to love you for who you are. The ones that can’t handle it, that think your lifestyle effects them personally need to be weeded out of your life sooner or later anyway. Because if they are going to judge you for your sex life, they are going to judge you for other reasons and your relationship if never going to be a healthy one.
So Friday, after arriving at the Drs office for my long awaited two week post miscarriage check up, to find out that the Dr had just left -to deliver a baby- and I was going to be rescheduled, for the 28th, the one month anniversary of my miscarriage, I had a little cry in the parking lot.
I cried about miscarriage, and the fact that DaddyO, after watching me nearly bleed to death in the ER is not sure he wants to try again, and his being unemployed since March meaning my dreams of being a stay at home mom of two are melting away, revealing the reality of my being a working mom of one. I had a good cry about everything that just seemed to be going wrong lately and finally, when I was done, came home and started a blog post about how we simply have to be at the bottom of this cycle. About how things have to turn around now. Because really, how much worse could they get?