MicroMonday

I have to go with a seasonal theme today.  Thanksgiving.

I love Thanksgiving.  The ‘giving’ consists of food, family and friendship.  It isn’t a shopping extravaganza kind of holiday.  Except for the food shopping, I guess.

This year, I am going to the in-laws on Thursday.  I’ve gotten out of it for a few times, and I would be happy getting out of it forever.  That sounds rude, I know, and I don’t truly mean to be rude, but honestly, my mother in law is not a good cook.  She’s a family cook.  True, she has cooked in diners for years, but more along the lines of a short order kind of cook.  She makes the same dishes she always makes.  It’s their family’s traditional comfort food.  It’s also pretty bad.  Or, maybe I should say, it isn’t what I grew up eating.

Instead of feeling disappointed in the meal and the holiday, I am adjusting my expectations.  I’m not going for the food.  I’m not even going for the company.  I’m going because it will make my partner happy.  For a bonus, it will make her mom happy too, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  It will be loud, too hot, televisions on in two different rooms, a small yappy dog underfoot all day long, mediocre food, and the mother in law (who is nearly deaf) bossing everyone and wielding a wooden spoon.  As long as I know this and plan ahead for it, I’ll be fine.  I’m going to lay claim to a remote control, put on some football, sit on a couch and watch a game and smile through the whole thing.  I can be nice!

On Friday, I will cook a small Thanksgiving dinner for myself, my partner, my dad and my crazy brother (who may or may not come).  I have purchased the turkey breast.  I have planned out my menu.  I have done most of the shopping and will be ready.  This will be a delicious meal.  And I will be giving thanks twice.

What are you all doing?

In-laws... sigh

Alright, a confession.

I behaved badly at the in-law’s house this weekend. 

It’s kind of a long story, and a sad one, so I’ll abridge it.

My girlfriend’s brother is … mentally challenged.  I would say retarded but the family hates that word.  He is not Down’s Syndrome, just slow, illiterate, low functioning, etc.  You know, retarded.  This never stopped him from meeting women, marrying and reproducing, though.  And his kids?  Also retarded, in varying degrees.  The eldest, a girl, lives with me and T during the school year ~ at least until she gets through high school (or I kick them both out).  She is the most functional of the bunch.  The boy, Wayne, lives with his dad.

So, we were over at T’s mom’s house on Saturday.  T’s sister, Pam, was there too, having her mother color her hair.  The kids were at their own mother’s house for once.  We were chatting about random stuff and eventually the hair coloring was concluded and Pam went to pick up the kids.

When they got back the usual conversation started about how difficult Clark, the retarded brother, is to be around.  How he has a million rules for Wayne about everything, and how he is always yelling at him and is, in fact, quite mean to the boy.  He is not allowed to turn on the tv by himself (he is 15), or get a glass of water by himself.  He is not allowed to open the refrigerator without asking.  He is not allowed to play with toys he has been given because he might break them.  He is not allowed to do much of anything.  And, seriously, it’s the halt leading the blind here.  They are both well below an IQ of 70.

This conversation comes up frequently.  Everybody bemoaning how hard Clark is on Wayne, and nobody choosing to deal with the situation. 

Eventually, on Saturday, it got down to talk of physical violence and how Clark had better not hit Wayne because Wayne is now big enough to hit him back.

This is when I lost it.  Talk about triggering.

I asked why it was ok for Wayne to have to live this way.  Why wasn’t anyone putting him first?  Who was looking out for Wayne if he had to grow up with an abusive father?  There was some backpedaling at that point, but the bottom line is that Wayne doesn’t count for very much in the family.  It’s appalling.  It’s wrong. 

And the thing of it is, Wayne is a much nicer kid than his sister who lives with me and T.  She is sly and secretive and withholding and selfish.  Her much more retarded brother has a sweet nature and an open personality.  He is cheerful and outgoing, she is moody and withdrawn.   

T’s mom started to say how she knew what it was like to live with an abuser.  Well, then, why are you allowing your grandson to go through that, I asked.  Oh, it’s not that bad, she said.  I look out for him, she said.

It’s a total fucked up mess, I can tell you that.

Nobody wants Wayne.  Grandma won’t take him.  T and I simply can’t ~ plus we’ve already committed to the sister.  Pam and her family won’t.  They don’t like the kid.  They are a bunch of snobs who like to pretend that they aren’t related to the rest of the family.  I think that he should be allowed to go live with his mother.  Although, that is probably not the best solution.  She is also of low intelligence and doesn’t always have her own place to live.  I believe that she is living with her own mother currently.

So, yes, I lost it.  I ranted for a minute or two and then stood up, gave Wayne a hug, and walked out the door.  Went and sat in my car waiting for T to come out and drive me home.  If I had had the keys in my pocket I would have left.  On the way home I lost it again, or further, and said all kinds of things that hurt my partner’s feelings.  But, really, at that point I was both crying and shouting and far, far beyond discretion.  Ugh. 

I’m not sure why this situation affected me so much on Saturday.  Well, ok, I had an energy alignment on Thursday, my therapist on Friday, and I think my usual walls and defenses were down.  I just couldn’t bear the thought of that kid living like that. 

So, now I have to apologize to my mother in law for being an obnoxious jerk.  I won’t take back what I said, but the way I said it was inappropriate.  It’ll be awkward, for sure, especially since the woman is nearly deaf and telephone conversations must be conducted at very loud volume.  I’ll probably email my sister in law as well.  We’ll see how long they hold a grudge…

A fun weekend with the in-laws.  How was yours? 

(Yes, this was the abridged version.)

Biting my Tongue

My girlfriend’s former sister-in-law was in town for a week and I’ve just about bitten my tongue completely off. They had a great time, and she’s a really nice woman, but the constant praising of the man they have in common was nauseating.

T’s brother has been dead for about ten years. I’ve heard a lot of stories about how charming and funny and persuasive he was. He was the family favorite, a jokester, a card, a cut-up, a great dancer, a good friend, could talk you out of the shirt on your back. Notice that he could talk you out of the shirt on your back, not that he would give you the shirt off his back.

He died of complications of hard living. He was a drug user for years – and I’m not talking pot, here. He used heroine for many, many years. He was clean from time to time but couldn’t stay sober. I’m not judging him on that count, though. There are too many substance abusers in my own family to point any fingers.

He was also a world class womanizer and a sex addict by all accounts. Some of the stories I have heard are beyond appalling. He drugged and raped one of T’s girlfriends; he beat up this gal who was visiting us four times before she finally decided she had had enough. Apparently he would fuck anything because I heard a story from T’s half-brother that Mike showed up at a job site once with a goat in his truck. Not sure I actually believe that one… But the rest of it is absolutely reprehensible.

He also embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars from a business that he had with T. All gone – to be injected into his veins. He died leaving her holding the empty bag. It took her years to settle with the federal government and she still has a huge judgment against her in the state of Oregon. Oregon takes all of her tax refund every year in the nearly futile attempt to recoup the lost money. Now, since we are registered domestic partners, they take my tax refund too. Yes, yes, I can file an innocent spouse form… but still.

I know that we look at the people we love through rose colored glasses. I am hard pressed to find one redeeming quality or characteristic about this man. It is mind boggling to hear T and Amy go on and on about Mike as if he were some All American star. To me he sounds like the sleaziest, dirtiest, most deceitful asshole ever. I have kept my mouth shut all week while listening to them reminisce. It’s been a challenge. I am so damned glad that he was long gone by the time I met T. And I’m so glad that Amy has gone home so that the topic of conversation can be changed.

The In-laws

Next weekend is going to be interesting. One of T’s cousins is pregnant and a big baby shower is planned for Saturday. I hate baby showers. And bridal showers. I hate those stupid games. And I especially hate showers without booze. If I am forced to attend, there really ought to be some liquid compensation for the pain and suffering.

So, T’s mom is hosting the event. Now, I gotta say, I love her mom. She is funny! And loud. And when she gets drinking she is a hoot. The first time I met Grace was at the niece’s 13th birthday party. The kids were having snacks and drinks in the family room and the adults were in the dining room having beers. The birthday girl came in and asked if they could have more punch. T’s sister looked at her mom and said incredulously, “Are you letting them drink punch in the family room?!” Her mom said, “What do I care if they spill? Cubby shits in there!” (Cubby being the dog, thankfully.) I nearly spit out the beer I was drinking. I love that ornery woman! And, since she is hosting the event, there will be alcohol.

As the weeks have unfurled, the baby shower has turned into a family reunion. Apparently relatives are coming from all over. Even old GreatAunt Whatever is flying in from Houston, for crying out loud! T hasn’t seen her since she was a teenager and T is pushing 50. I asked if the old aunt knew T was gay… she said, “Well, she will by the end of the party.” T has a lesbian cousin who lives about 4 or 5 hours away. So far she isn’t coming but she might have her arm twisted to make an appearance. I’d actually like that. A safety in numbers kind of feeling. But, if we are the only deviants there, so be it. T’s immediate family adore her and are pretty darn fond of me so I’m not worried about that.

We have to show up early to help with some of the set up. T will probably be roped into barbequing. I volunteered to keep the coolers stocked up with beer and pop. Actually, whatever Grace wants me to do, I will do. Better to stay busy at these things than sitting around looking like you want to talk to people.

I’m not sure how long we’ll have to stay. I’m hoping we can bug out fairly early ~ the Roller Derby semifinals are Saturday night and really, I’d rather go watch that.