Revival of the Unholy Spirit

Finally, I was forced to interact with The Motha aka Mama. I have avoided her since the Christmas drama (and no I don’t refer to the church play). It was the baby’s birthday and I have never had him a REAL party. So, I earned a few hundred dollars and was able to give him a Fro-Yo party. Mama was not consulted at all about the party, but I did send her an evite. The day before the event, she calls to ask who was coming and what did I plan on doing. I mean, with me being a complete idiot, I bet I couldn’t figure out how to let the Fro-Yo girlies show everyone how to dispense their frozen yogurt and add their own toppings. The party was fun but awkward in that Mama did not attempt to interact with  my two friends who attended. (There was a total of  8 people there and 2 kids other than mine.) Mama would never act like that with anyone else, but because they are my friends, she happens to think they are worthless and unworthy of common courtesy. The sad part is her complete lack of insight into her own behavior. But just like a crap cupcake with sprinkles, Mama keeps serving up what no one would possibly be able to digest.

Birthday-isms a la Mama:

“Malingan, Micnlanga, Michigan, you are really pretty. I am sorry I never can get y’all’s names right.” (Yep, you guessed it…my friend is black and her name is beautiful! Malana. Really? How difficult is that? I swear, Mama is the ultimate ignorant Cracker Attacker. UGH.)

“You have done a wonderful job with those kids. They just have the best manners. You can really tell when a Mother truly enjoys teaching her children good manners.” (An obvious jab at me and makes me wonder what that says about my Grandma…)

After the party Mama insists on coming to the house so that she can organize the baby’s toys from Christmas. She has bought 10-15 boxes to store things in and is on a mission to organize me away. Haha. We are sitting in the floor of the playroom, helping the baby with his trains when I askhim if he loved his train cake. The baby hugged me and kissed me and said it was the best cake ever. Mama looks at me in that moment and says “Where’s the $1000.00 you owe me for the house payment?” Ok the house is a whole other blog, but the short version is that we own the house together. After my divorce, I could no longer afford it because my entire salary per month wouldn’t cover it. I have offered to move out so they could rent it, I have offered to sell it, I have offered everything I can thin k of to help. Nothing changes the fact that until i finally get some child support, I can’t afford it.

It gets worse. In order to earn extra money, I have been working in a job that is well, demoralizing, to put it politely. I have to travel with men (usually older) and go with them to events and they give me gifts. I will allow your imagination to fill in the blanks. Mama knows about these trips. She also knows that the last one paid for the party. How sad that my own Mother thinks it’s okay to ask for money that she knows I earned in a difficult situation (We are talking all day, all night for an entire weekend you are entertaining, talking to, dining with etc someone you may or may not even like.)  So she starts screaming about how I need to be paying for myself and I am screaming back that I am doing everything I can working 2 jobs, but that my entire check wouldn’t cover the house payment. I pay all of the other bills, but can’t cover that much, yet. The baby starts crying and I end up making her leave. In true Mama style, she stands in the front yard for 45 minutes waving to the baby through the window. I texted her and told her she ruins every special day and that I had worked hard for the money to give my baby a party. Mama came back in and played innocent…”I don’t know why you think it’s my fault.”

We need a renewal. A revival. Something to jolt her out of my immediate vicinity.

 

I’m Dreaming of a White *Trash* Christmas…

It’s kinda bizarre how both of my brothers married women who are…well…bitches. They are different kinds of bitches, but both seem to be fueled by drama of some sort. White Trash Barbie is what I call one of them: She has white blonde hair that she insists is natural. WTB and I were great friends for about 3 months. My Mama does this dance where she wants us to be friends, then became jealous of our friendship, then split us apart by telling her that I am a “bad influence”.  Mama’s “shove people together, then rip them apart” dance.

I should digress and explain that I have  Narcissist ex-husband (Clinically, not just a term I am tossing around casually.) Before we divorced, he told my entire small town that I was a crack-whore. What he meant by “crack” is that he thought I was addicted to my computer, that I used to avoid him. What he meant by “whore” is that I no longer wanted to have sex with him (for the last several years of our marriage). He failed to clear up these code words with the Town, so it is commonly thought that I am indeed a literal crack-whore. (The fattest crack whore in history, may I add!)

So, White Trash Barbie decided to kick me while I am down because she wants my parents’ money and attention. She and I had an email- text- war a month ago and haven’t spoken at all since she initiated a fight by telling me I am worthless. 

Fast forward to Thursday night, my son’s first Christmas pageant and also my nephew’s Christmas pageant. Ultimately it was White Trash Barbie’s White Trash Christmas Pageant. (Who knew?!)  I am standing in the hallway of the daycare with 200 parents and children seated and eating a celebratory dinner. I have my 9 month old niece in my arms, when suddenly I am tackled from behind. Surprise! WTB has run into me and thank GOD I didn’t actually fall (wearing high heels) with the baby in my grip! My neck is injured, but other than that, it’s fine.  WTB takes the opportunity to snatch the baby and start screaming at me (in front of everyone in my son’s daycare) that I am a liar and a bitch. She orders me to leave and I refuse. Eventually she goes to her car as I try to get my kids to hurry up and leave. My brother was silent and followed her outside to leave.

Mama Drama Warning: I call my Mama to ask her to keep my oldest son who is being rude because he’s embarrassed and angry. Mama lies to me and tells me she is at home. I inform her I am in her driveway. She then says she is in a restaurant, and I call her bluff. I am in tears, telling her how humiliating that was for my children and she interrupts:

Mama: Can I talk to you later I have to go?

SJ: What?! I am in the middle of a story and I need you to listen.

M: I heard it. You got in a fight because y’all can’t get along and now there won’t be Christmas.

SJ: Huh?!

M: I gotta go check on your brother. I am at his house and he is devastated by what you have done.

SJ: You suck as a Mom. (hanging up.)

Ring Ring.

SJ: Hello

Dad: I am at your house and we need to figure out how you can fix this so your Mother can have one of those Christmas cards like Becky sent out.

SJ: What card?

Dad: The one with all of the kids and grandkids together.

SJ: I gotta go because my neck hurts and I need to take a tranquilizer.

I came home to a lecture about how selfish I am and how I don’t care about people. Merry Christmas, Me.  Poor kids having to deal with all this shizzle.