Welcome to my world... part 2

Here's what I have been waiting to write about... it's been eating away at me and I'm still not ready to tell the tale, but I'm going to let if flow anyhow.

Last Thursday evening, my father came up from Orlando specifically for 2 things: (1) to talk to my mother and apologize for things he did wrong in their marriage (they've been apart for nearly 20 years now); and (2) to talk to me and apologize for things he did wrong in parenting me.

Sounds great, huh? Only, that's not really how it went. What really happened was that he got to unburden himself of a few of his self-perceived issues and that's that. He never really came to listen, or to actually hear what the real issues were.

Why would he choose to do this now? God only knows. Literally... God. Because my dad only said, "It was in my heart to say these things now," which is religious babble-speak for, "I'm trying to become a deacon in my church and I have to atone for my sins in this part of the 12 steps before I can accept that position," or whatever they do there.

In my mother's 20 year relationship with my father, she felt on several occasions that he was most likely cheating on her. No matter how much she asked him though, he always made her feel that she was only paranoid and overly jealous, and he would belittle her with that line of accusation until she believed it. Trust me when I say that my mother's self-esteem suffered greatly because of that. And when he told her that he wanted a divorce --on the day that I was graduating from high school, mind you-- he only said that he wanted his freedom... never giving her any real reasons why.

Interestingly enough, the man who "wanted his freedom" was remarried just 11 months after the papers were finalized, though he claimed that he didn't even know the new wife when he asked for the divorce. In these nearly 2 decades since, my mother has never remarried... but her drinking problem has gone from being a weekend binge drinker to being an extremely unhealthy daily drinker.

So my father came up here, feeling somewhat responsible after all these years, to finally admit to my mother that he did in fact cheat on her... and not with one woman, but multiple women. He ended it there and wouldn't tell her with whom he'd had the affairs, leaving her obsessing over all the other women she'd wondered about over the years.

Basically, my dad just dumped his baggage to feel better about himself, and left the onus on her. Nice one, Dad. Always so helpful.

Then on Friday afternoon, he came to pick me up for lunch... presumably to help me work on my resume so that I can get a boring office job. That never happened. Instead, he talked about how he'd gone wrong as a father... except that he stated everything in religous terms, of course, just as he had with my mother. He admitted to me that he'd cheated on my mom, too, but he managed to leave out the "multiple women" part... that info came from my mom later when she was finally able to talk to me about it without bursting into tears.

In his long, religious-based, occasionally teary apology-of-sorts, the man actually compared himself to Moses... stating that his life went wrong around the age of 14 and for 40 years he was "in the world" (religious speak for the comparison of wandering in the desert, and being tempted by evils), and apparently he didn't have things go right again for him until he was "born again" 3 years ago.

To tell you the truth, I do not see anything terribly different about him, except that every other sentence is about Jesus or God or Satan. Otherwise, I still see him as the same self-centered, egotist that he always was... plus I always felt in my gut that he was a liar. He's a salesman by trade, has been my whole life, and whenever you talk to him, you can't help but wonder if he's trying to sell you something you don't really need. And he is... usually it's his perspective of how everyone else is living their life all wrong. But now that he's got Jesus on his side, he can tell people with much more conviction that they're living their lives incorrectly, and he manages to peddle the Bible everywhere he goes, in every conversation he has.

I had to sit and listen to him bring up arguments about why his church is so great and not a scam, like he knows that I think it is... and these are things that I've never talked to him about, because, unlike my father, I don't think it's my place to try and tell people that their beliefs system is faulty. I was a little perplexed by how he knew that I felt that way, but I assumed at the time that maybe this had come up in conversation with my mother and him the night before.

I also had to listen to him talk about how great it is that he gives 10 percent of his income to the church, that it's not going to his pastor's big home or fancy cars, but to building new programs, adding to the church, converting others in foreign lands, and helping single mothers like myself (funny that his own daughter, the single mother, doesn't see one-tenth of one percent of the kind of scratch that his church sees from him).

Then he went into how wonderful it is that the Lord blessed him with a $13,000 tax refund this year, which is helping him to pay for his second home that he bought before selling the one he currently has, but luckily the people he bought that house from are still residing there and giving him $1,000 a month for rent until they move. He went on about job bonuses and this great new house he'll be moving to (the 4th new house in the last couple of years) and all kinds of wonderful things that "the Lord" has bestowed upon him since getting born again, as he wrote checks out to my boys for their birthdays for $25 a piece, adding that he didn't want them blowing it on video games... I thought to myself, "Is he nuts? You can't buy a video game for that little anyway."

And of course he went into how God hates divorce and how it says so in the Book of Malachi... which he thought the coincidence was funny. (A) He was divorced. (B) I'm divorced. Doesn't he ever think before he speaks to someone? And the reason why I'm divorced is that my ex-husband had an affair. I almost blurted out, "You know what God hates even more? Adultery." I held my tongue about that and just answered with, "Have you ever read the Book of Malachi? There's some crazy, backwards thinking shit in there that doesn't belong in this time. I didn't name my son after that book... I just liked the name. Had I actually read that whole section beforehand, I would have chosen something else. Trust me."

He also when into my film and interpretted every statement that was said to be related to him, somehow... and he thinks that I titled the film FOUND because I am lost right now, like he was before he was "saved" and "born again." Yeah, Dad. Everything is about you somehow, isn't it?

Then, after one truly weird afternoon that left my dad feeling like he'd purged himself of his sins and left me feeling like I had to hold my tongue over what I really think he did wrong in raising me (and "failing to give me religion" is so NOT one of the myriad of things)... my dad quickly scurried back to Orlando and chose not to stick around to see his grandkids, who were getting off the bus about 15 minutes later. Not to mention is it was his grandsons' birthdays and he should have wanted to give them their cards in person, at least.

But he didn't leave until he hit me with one last f'ed up blow... a brief conversation that started, "So I've been reading your Myspace blog for a while now..."

At that moment, all the blood drained from my head as thoughts flooded me of every blog I've ever written... especially the ones that say all the things that I think about his religion. It was that moment on the beach in JAWS where the camera simultaneously zooms in and dollies out all of a sudden while in close up on Roy Scheider's face. THAT is why I've either deleted some entries or put them to "FRIENDS ONLY" and why I'm going to continue doing that.

He claimed that he decided to Google me one day and that's how he found my blog and has been reading it ever since without ever telling me that he was. He laughed a little when he talked about how shocked and surprised he was to find that I'm such "an extremely talented and funny writer," as he said. But he also had plenty of criticism for me, too, mostly about my lifestyle, of course. I'm sure that the "same sex marriage supporter" banner on my profile also pisses him off, though he never brought up that bit.

The reason he doesn't know that I can write, however, is the same reason he doesn't really have a clue about who I really am... he's never seen me for me and he likely never will.

There you have it... why my weekend was so screwy from the start... long before the boys arrived for the slumber party, and long before my dog died... and why I had to update so many of my old blog entries.

I think I could have written this better if I was in a better mood, but my full sense of humor hasn't returned yet, as things keep getting in the way... like my father calling me a couple hours ago and telling me more stuff that he thinks is wrong with me and how disappointed he is in me. I put myself through college and through grad school without a dime of help from him and he couldn't muster a real congratulations on that effort, but he sure can "pick me up" on any old day to tell me how bad a job I'm doing.

To that I'd just like to say, "Thanks, Dad, for helping to shape me into who I am today. Who knows where I'd be without you in my life."

But once again, I held my tongue instead.

Oh yeah... almost forgot: He didn't leave without giving me something "useful" ... yet another New Testament that's been interpretted for those who like to think for themselves EVEN LESS than their church leaders already allow. I'll just put that on the shelf next to the collection of other versions he's given to me over the years. Maybe I'll use them as weapons to throw at Satan, if he should ever show himself... seeing as how he's so ever-present in my life.

Top 10 things heard at the boys' slumber party

10. "Aw man, who farted?!" --Kenny

09. "Me. Heheheh!" --Beau

08. "Don't you think it's awesome how pee smells funny after you eat beats or asparagus?" --John

07. "I think I'd like being a pothead one day." --unknown

06. "Don't you hate it when girls look at you and start laughing?" --Asif

05. "Yeah! It makes me think I've got a booger hanging out!" --Aidan

04. "Gross! Who farted this time???" --Peter

03. "Me, again. Heheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh!!!" --Beau

02. "I think I'm gonna be sick... *urp-urp-URP! SPLAT!*" --Malachi

01. "Dammit, Malachi. Why did you have to have that large Cherry Arctic Blast?" --Me

If life's a bowl of cherries...

I just had to have my mother drive one of my dogs to the emergency vet to have him put down, right in the middle of my boys' 11th and 13th birthday parties here at my house. Although there's never a good time for these kind of events, the timing couldn't have been worse with my house packed with so many kids. And there, right in the middle of my kitchen, the dog starts walking backwards, falling down, tongue goes all white and his eyes rolled back in his head... they said it was congestive heart failure, which is all too common in his breed.






Taken on the day I brought him home in Sept '98.

He's not even the one I've been expecting to put down; Gracee is literally on her last legs and I've just been keeping her mobile with Glucosimine for the last couple of years, but she'll be having to be put down soon enough, because now she's not able to get up on her own anymore. I got her about a week after my ex-husband moved in with me back in April 1993... she'd been discovered as a wee pup wandering around in the ice storm that struck here that Spring and somehow she managed to survive. She's definitely a fighter.

Chaucer, on the other hand, was a different kind of fighter... he'd attack any strange dog in sight and even attack the ones he lived with fairly often, which was how one of his eyes wound up getting popped out of his head, leaving him half-blind 5 years ago (and cost me $1200 for the vet fees). He also happened to be the only dog of mine actually from a breeder. All of my other dogs and all of my cats were rescues, but Chaucer was different. He was my $1500 engagement ring.

Back in 1998, my ex-husband and I had been together for over 5 years and had created 3 kids together, but had only just gotten married the previous October. I was feeling a sudden need for a puppy to bring some more joy into my world, but I was worried about what risk it would bring to the puppy... see, my ex was a dog abuser. Just dogs, not any other creatures. And I never turned him in, because I was afraid to... but I also felt that I could help him overcome his aggression. Oddly, then Chaucer turned out to be an aggressor of sorts.

Please try not to judge me for living with an animal abuser. I had been a PETA member for years before I met him and never imagined that I'd ever be with such an abusive person, much less have babies with one. It's not a time that I am proud of... I was just in survival mode and until you've been there yourself, you can't really know what it's like.

So that summer, I located a breeder nearby raising Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, a breed that I'd been in love with since I was 10 years old. I knew that the adults looked like puppies, which would work in the dogs favor, and that such a steep price tag would make my ex think twice about laying a hand on the dog. He met with the breeder and admitted that they were too cute to hate, and because he'd never bought me a ring or anything really in all that time (other than the house we lived in), he agreed to pay half. (Yeah, I paid the other half. Romantic, huh?) Chaucer's breed is used as therapy dogs in hospitals, and whatever it was about him did work... my ex never laid a hand on him.

I just discovered recently that it was his own littermate who'd given birth to a Westminster Dog Show all breed winner... you know, the dog that wins for his breed and the whole enchilada... then sadly his sister got hit by a car a few months later. Now my Chaucer is dead too... he was just 8 years old.

The timing of all of this makes me wonder though... I've been saying for some time that I must've broke a mirror when I met my ex, then broke another when we split... due to all the bad luck that I've had in those 7 years during our relationship and in the years since. I'm now closing in on the end of my 7th year A.D. (After Divorce) and that's why the timing of "losing" my engagement ring/therapy dog strikes me as a bit ironic.

Cyclical things are coming back in mega-doses right now. I still haven't told you why I had to change most of my blogs to "Friends" only... this was so immediate, I had to write about it right now. The other thing... also big and emotional, though somehow not as much of a shock... is still marinating.

More soon... bear with me.

FYI

I have so much to say about a certain visit/event that happened today, but at the moment I am speechless. Stay tuned. I'll explain why in the coming days...

Welcome to my world...

As several of you have read before, when the kids leave for their weekend at their dad's house, I often take off immediately for the movie theater. Last weekend, I'd caught The Illusionist and then Lassie back to back, which I was happy to report were both slow but enjoyable enough, but the two bags of grease-laden popcorn that I ate, also back to back, got a great big "two thumbs down" from my stomach.

Do stomach's have thumbs? I'm getting off track.

So tonight, I applied the "everything in moderation" approach and only went to one movie and thus only consumed one oily bag of popcorn. The movie was Hollywoodland... I'm not recommending it if you're bored, because it'll only worsen the mood. Although, if you're really REALLY bored, perhaps it would seem exciting to you... like watching paint dry.

Now if that were it for my evening, I'd have nothing new to write here. But that wasn't the only event of my evening, no, of course not.

When I got out of the theater, I noticed that I had a couple of missed calls, all of them from my mother. When I listened to the message, she sounded like she had been crying or she was sick, and the message seemed to cut her off mid-sentence, so I really didn't know what to make of it. I called her back immediately, but got no answer. I called a couple more times, because sometimes she doesn't recognize her own phone ringing (it rings with music and she keeps thinking it should ring like a phone, but she thinks that the traditional phone ring setting is annoying). She never answered, so I just figured that it wasn't that important.

I drove home and when I turned onto my street, there were a dozen or so cars parked all over the cul-de-sac as if someone was having a party... and just as quickly, I spotted that someone was parked in my driveway, which pissed me off for a second... until I realized it was my mother's car.

Since it was about 10:00, I thought it was weird that my mother would just be stopping by. Perhaps she'd been out shopping and found something she wanted to decorate my house with and just stopped over while I wasn't there and went inside to install whatever whatchamacallit she bought? That's what I was thinking as I opened my car door... and then I saw what was inside the car.

"Mom?" I tapped on the windshield to get her attention. She was sitting in her car, seat fully reclined, and completely unconscious. I instantly thought she might be sick or something. She groggily looked up at me and replied, "Yeah, what?" ...like it's normal to find your mother napping in your driveway on a Friday night.

I went around to her driverside door and opened it. That's when I was hit with the wall of alcohol odor. It just got more loony tunes from there:

"You're totally wasted."

"No, I'm not. Why would you say that? I'm just tired."

"I can smell the liquor from here."

"You can't smell anything. It's vodka... *giggle*."

"Whatever. Why are you sleeping in my driveway?"

"I got mad at Mike and decided to come over here."

"If you're not drunk, then why didn't you answer your phone when I called you several times?"

"I must not have brought it with me."

At this point, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her. She's watching me hold my phone and call her, and her phone rings right next to her, of course. She says, "Oh, that must be Mike calling me."

"No, mom. It's me seeing if you've got your phone on you."

"No, it's Mike. I've gotta go home."

"No, you're not going anywhere. You're in no condition to drive. Come inside and you can take a nap in my bed."

While she was protesting, she was getting out and following me up into my house. She walked upstairs to my bedroom, muttering something to herself. I went up there after I let my dogs out and she seemed to be fast asleep already. I turned off the lights and got on my computer to see what messages I had.

Suddenly, from upstairs, I hear a big "THUNK!" like someone hitting the floor. I figured she just needed to run to the toilet and puke, so I didn't bother to go check. Next thing, I hear my dogs barking and the front door getting pulled shut. I went outside in time to see my mom closing the door of her car and about to drive away.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

"I'm going home. I can't sleep here. Everything smells different."

"How can you smell anything over all that vodka? You're in no shape to be driving. Get out and come back inside now."

"Nope," as she started the car and put it in reverse. "Going home."

This conversation was going on through her window, because she locked herself in and wouldn't let me get at her to take her keys away. All I could do was beg her to be careful and at the very least not hit the cars that were parked right across from my driveway. She gave a last, "I'm fuh-ine," then backed out of the driveway... well, backed out into my lawn, I should say. Then she drove off.

I called her boyfriend and told him she was driving back and if she wasn't back in 15 minutes, he needed to call me. He slurred back at me, "Okay, I'll call you back."

A few minutes later, he was calling me to tell me that she made it. Actually, he just let me say hello when I answered, said hello back, then sat there saying nothing else... just waiting... this was because he apparently thought I called him. I had to say, "Is she there?" To which he answered, "Yeah, she's just pulling in now. You called at the exact moment."

Uh huh.

When I was going through my divorce 7 years ago, I bought a t-shirt that says, "This is not the life I ordered," thinking that I'd show a little humor towards cruel fate... laugh off the pain. Now I think that dumb shirt could be tempting fate and just perpetuating the circumstances. I think I'm going to ceremonially burn that blasted thing tomorrow.