Letters From Mama: Assumptive, Manipulative, Narcissism

I hadn't heard from Mama for quite a while. I have her completely blocked on all social media, as well as my phone. I know she has access to this blog, and I'm quite happy about that, really.

Anyway, I received the letter in the photograph to the left - and.....there is just so much to see here. So much.

But I must start out with the following:

Do not feel badly for me. Please. Just don't.

I'm very much past the point of being hurt by her words. No. That passed years ago. Now, I can't help giggling, rolling my eyes, poring over every word, every comma (there are a hell of a lot of them), every message she leaves in the way she writes and spells, etc. It's no fun to just conclude that she's bat-shit crazy. While true, that's just too easy.

So, enjoy my commentary below:

Hello, son,

Okay. Why? Just why the comma in the middle? Wait, though. You'll get very used to having to take little breaths and think backwards until the sentence ends and you end up flushed, feeling like you listened to Yoda, in the throes of a galactic constipated bowel movement.

Also notice she doesn't capitalize "son." Friends, that's bloody on purpose. She won't name me anymore until I do whatever it is she wants me to do - "open my eyes to her loveliness."

Wanting, here, to thank you again, for introducing me to Cameron coffee. In that old grinder your brother gave me so many years ago, I grind the whole beans, and then make the coffee, Intense French, in that little coffee maker your sister gave me so long ago.

She's trying to remind me of better times, here. It won't work. The better times were awful. I tried for years to love her unconditionally and got nothing in return but hurt and derision. She despised everything about me, including the fact that I married my bride without her permission. I couldn't fart in her presence without her say-so. She treated my family like shit and they did nothing to her but exist. My children were just children and my wife was just a fucking woman. They deserved her love, as my mother. That is all.

And it is apparent that both my brother and my sister, mentioned in the above paragraph, have also left her in the lurch. She would have named them otherwise. I have no idea which siblings she is talking about, nor do I remember the coffee bullshit. And that's exactly the way she wants it. She wants me to burn with curiosity, and come crawling back to her, asking her to tell me the whole story, face upraised toward hers, in earnest eagerness, hand on her knee, rubbing my thumb back and forth, my breaths short with anticipation.

No. Just no. I have absolutely no interest in playing her petty games.

Absolutely sky-rocketing delicious. :)

Jesus Christ woman! When a comma is needed, you forget to add it. She used to just say "glorious," but I guess that's just not good enough anymore. Absolutely, sky-rocketingly delicious. There...I fixed it for you.

Too, I want to let you know that, if I hadn't heard that you tore up the last Christmas present I sent to you and your wife and children, and pocketed the bits of money I'd sent for the kids...

Now hold on here, woman. That was sent in 2011. And you didn't send "bits of money." You sent a dollar to the four oldest of my children AS A BRIBE! They weren't allowed to spend a damn penny of that money, unless they hoodwinked me into contacting you again. Then, they needed to come to your house, get some creepy shit out of your house, dig a few toys out of the cellar, and then, AND ONLY THEN, were they allowed to spend the dollar.

I skipped all the bullshit and took my kids out shopping.

Do your research before leveling accusations. Stop pretending that your "Christmas gift" was an innocent present. And if you're curious, that whole "gift" is documented here.

...if I hadn't heard of that, I truly would send to you all, Christmas presents each year, even if you did not speak to me all year long before each special day, birthday & all such things, too.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!

I'm crushed. Hurt. Smashed to bits. I seriously am barred from receiving more "gifts"? I'm going to weep the weepery of all my ancestors heretofore. My mother is so full of herself, it's not even subtle anymore.

No. We have a fine Christmas without you. Just fine. Keep your strings-attached shit.

love you,...

Right. If that's love, my kids are fucking privileged to be my kids. The shitty love I give to them is so far and away better than your love, it's not even a contest. I'm learning to be a better dad and husband by the day. I fail like crazy and make them cry. But I want so bad to be the reason they smile at the end of the day. And I work my ass off to make up for my failings. But that's life. We learn. We improve.

We don't fail, then manipulate our loved ones to do whatever we want, despite treating them like shit.

...and all your family, and waiting for the day your eyes become opened to my loveliness :)

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

My mother is a narcissist.

Love you all. I'm out.

 

 

Innocence of Children vs. Crankiness of Old People

Excitedly, I pointed the standard-sized SUV toward Budget Rental. I had been held in check for three hours, since ordering the "surprise" for my six kids, renting a 2016 Ford Transit, 15-passenger van until Christmas Eve, while our SUV was in the shop, and we were finally headed there, the kids noticeably oozing with excitement over my words that something was going to be "fun."

We had purchased the SUV the year before, trading in a 12-passenger van. Our kids were pissed. Now, instead of space to stretch out and the inability to reach their siblings to administer a well-placed pop knot on their noggin, they were elbow to elbow, never satisfied with the seating arrangements. Almost daily, one of them yells out, "Daddy! Why in the hell did you sell the van!!??"

We pulled up to Budget Rental, left the kids in the SUV, and walked in. Mohamed was there, and saw us walk in, a huge smile flashing across his face.

"Hi, Kristine!!!!! Oh...hey Joe."

Mohamed has managed this joint for the four years we've been renting from him and knows us well. We've crashed a few of his cars, kept one or two of them for an extra day or two, returning it to a whisper and a wink from the guy, never charging us another red penny. He's just the most delightful rental human ever to walk the earth.

"I've got your van in the back. It's the all new European style body and full of gas."

He led us to the back, handed us the keys, foregoing the walk-around, and waved goodbye.

Kristine and I jumped into the van and drove it around the front, stopping right behind our SUV. The kids didn't notice we were there until I threw open the doors and with a stern and angry voice, I yelled, "Get out!!!"

Slightly amused, they noticed the van.

The next ten minutes contained the loudest noise the city of Burnsville, Minnesota had ever heard. It was as if my kids were handed tickets to a two-week trip to Disney World. They danced around the van, squealing with delight, picking seats, and screaming.

After finally getting everyone situated and buckled in, I headed over to Taco Bell for dinner. I tried to dampen their excitement, telling them the nature of it came from the benefits of a large vehicle for a large family, after being squished into a crappy smaller vehicle, and that other humans wouldn't understand.

They would have none of it.

Busting into Taco Bell, six children swept up to the counter, talking all at once,

"We got a new van!!!"

"Just for a week, though!"

"It finally fits our family!"

"No more fighting until Christmas!"

"WHERE'S MY IPAD!!!!!!!!!!!?????????"

"Shush, Fred!"

The cashier behind the counter blinked and smiled, appreciative of kid cuteness, but not understanding what all the excitement was about. I ordered the food and sent the kids to a table in the corner, hearing them telling every single customer they passed, about the good news.

A few minutes later, I made my way over to them and sat down. Surveying the crowd, I caught a pair of glaring eyes, sending evil vibes my direction. Turning my head slightly to the right, I stared into the burning hot coal eyes of an elderly woman, holding a handful of playing cards. Noticing I was looking at her, she whispered inaudibly to the other woman across the table, shaking her head at my children.

I laughed, breathed a breath of satisfaction, and winked at the woman, sending her into a tizzy.

The Pool of Men is Getting Smaller, Apparently

I just received this message from OKCupid:

We just detected that you’re now among the most attractive people on OkCupid.   We learned this from clicks to your profile and reactions to you in Quickmatch. Did you get a new haircut or something? Well, it’s working!   To celebrate, we’ve adjusted your OkCupid experience:

You’ll see more attractive people in your results.

This won’t affect your match percentages, which are still based purely on your answers and desired match’s answers. But we’ll recommend more attractive people to you. You’ll also appear more often to other attractive people.   Sign in to see your newly-shuffled matches. Have fun, and don’t let this go to your head