Ummmmm....

Gosh. Should I post about the family again? It gets old but sometimes I need to vent somewhere and this has been a good place for a sympathetic ear.

I haven't heard much from my family for last couple of months. My brother went back to school so he could teach in Thailand and as far as I know he's working. This is a good thing since he won't have to rely on handouts from my parents anymore. I don't know much more than that. I think he and my parents haven't been getting along real well since he's moving again to gain some space from them. At least I think that's what's going on.

So I get an email from my mom a few days ago. I guess she tried to send it a few times but she always sends the emails to the wrong email address (why I'm not in her contacts list I don't know) and she drops a few hints here and there that there is something going on. She says she's happy that my brother is working because that takes the financial stress off of them. (Hellooo, took $100k from him. You should still be giving him money).

And then she says that they won't be able to make it home this month after all....

WTF?

What does come "home" for a visit mean exactly? Was she still under the impression that she and dad were going to be staying with me?

Oh yeah. After I told her that my son and I might have Asperger's she decided that everything I had said to her before was a delusion brought on by my afflicted brain. Or so my brother told me.

So what did I do? I panicked. I freaked out because I didn't want my mom to think that I had an open door policy. I felt like I had to make things crystal clear so that there wouldn't be any future misunderstandings. So I sent her an email that was basically a here's the deal kind of thing. I basically said-- no more lies, I don't appreciate having a potential diagnosis used against me, and if you're going to send me back another nasty email because I'm sticking to my stance of you can't stay with me then don't bother to write.

I didn't cuss at her. It was reasonable. I thought.

Then I get an email from my brother saying why can't we all just get along? Yes, a loving guilt trip from my brother. The one who calls me at 1:00 in the morning to rant and rave about my parents. The one who pokes a stick at the hornets nest and then wonders why there's a bunch of angry insects buzzing around. The one who told me his wife doesn't speak to my mom anymore. Oh, and then he adds a happy little post script that says my mom is "shaking" she's so upset. If I had a dime for every time my brothers had her in the same state while growing up..... But I guess he learned to sling guilt with the best of them and think none of it will blow back on him.

*Sigh*

I sent a reply back to my brother that basically stated the same thing I said above. I told him that I didn't think it was fair that I only get little bits of information here and there and then I'm expected to draw a whole picture from that. I told him that I thought it was b.s. that I have been expected to be the dutiful daughter my whole life but when I finally decide enough is enough and stand my ground I'm made to feel guilty about it. Naturally I haven't heard back.

Thing is, my family has never been particularly loving. **I'm going to divulge a little bit of uncomfortable info here** I was molested by my oldest brother (not the one in Thailand) when I was a kid. I don't remember when it started, I'm guessing around 4 or 5 (I think I've repressed most of the memories, though I have always remembered a few specific instances) and I made him stop by the time I was 9. I never told my mom what happened when I was a kid. I'm sure you've all heard about the shame and embarrassment that goes with this kind of thing, and it's true. But when I was 27 I told my mom what happened because she had kicked my brother out of her house, with his two sons. I was worried about the kids and I wanted to do what I could to make sure that custody was transferred to their mother.

So what does my mom do with that info? She decides to tell everyone in the family what happened -- without my permission-- just to make sure they were good and angry at him and would take her side in the whole argument. Yep. That's my mom. Throws me under the bus no matter what. The subject was pretty much dropped after that. She got what she needed out of it so now we can move forward as if nothing happened.

Between that incident and the way she has turned the whole Asperger's thing against me, I think I'm pretty justified in not trusting my mom. I haven't had this discussion with my brother, but I don't expect him to be particularly sensitive to my feelings. No one in my family ever is. It's been pretty much a life of shit rolling down hill and I'm the one who catches it all.

I feel like I'm at a fork in the road. On one side is my family-- chaos, heartache and pain. The other side is no family-- peace.

How sad is that?

Sort of a good news, bad news, good news.. kind of thing

Let me start with the good news. I took my son to the neurologist this last week and the first thing he said to me was "your son is definitely not autistic."

I like this doctor.

I wasn't actually too worried that my son would be diagnosed autistic. Despite the fact that Asperger's is considered on the autism spectrum, there seems to be some controversy over whether or not it should be considered an autism-like disorder at all. So all I was really worried about was what the doctor saw as a long-term prognosis for my son-- which apparently is very good.

The doctor said my son is too young to really evaluate for Asperger's, and since I have a couple of traits my son probably will too. But-- and this is what really won me over-- the doctor said "there is too much right with this boy for me to be worried about him."

Sweeeeeeet!

All I have to do at this point is make sure my son gets speech therapy and take him back to the neurologist in 6 months to monitor his progress. The doctor said the diagnosis could change over time, but he didn't think it would get worse-- only better. Words a mom likes to hear.

Okay. The bad news. My nephew calls me a few days ago. That's a good thing. I didn't have his number and had been wanting to hear from him. He's a good kid. He's 16, mellow and seems to be on the right track. His brother on the other hand....

This is where I get a pissed off for a bit.

My other nephew is in jail. Now, as bad as that is, that's not what I'm pissed about. My jailbird nephew (son of my jailbird brother) is 19 years old and has been in and out of jail for the last year (3 times I've been told) and I didn't know any of this. I also didn't know that he dropped out of school his Sophomore year (almost 3 years ago).

How is this possible you ask?

Because my mom is a liar. A chronic, bald-faced liar.

My mom spun me a story awhile ago about my nephew being in juvenile hall. Oh, he was in juvie, but that's all I ever heard. To hear my mom tell it, my nephew went back to school and everything was hunky-dory. WTF?

I remember asking my mom over the last year if she had had my nephews over to visit before she left and she always said she was too busy or too tired or whatever. I asked many times about those boys and not once did the subject of jail come up. I think I would have remembered that.

Why? Why lie? I don't get it.

So I guess my nephew is following in the dubious footsteps of my brother. The one I haven't seen for over 10 years thanks to his meth habit. Oh man. I hate hearing this kind of stuff.

So I'm going to end this post on a happy note.

My new couch came today.

I talked my husband into a sectional couch that is just gorgeous. It's not super trendy, but it is micro-fiber so I don't have to worry about kids and pets. It's soooooo soft and cuddly. We ordered the fabric so it's not the cheap micro-fiber that's stiff. It's like a baby's butt. Is that a good description? I don't care. It's soft. And it has a corner with my name on it.

My husband... kind of like Costanza

My husband is a great guy. I've mentioned him several times on my blog and I think we can all agree he got more than his money's worth when he married me. And not in a good way.

But like all people he has some strange quirks. That's okay. I think a big part of staying married is finding someone who's quirks you can live with.

So I'm watching "Resident Evil" the other night (yeah...I know) and my husband walks in during a scene in which Michelle Rodriguez is on the screen and asks "is that Denise Richards?"

Me: Blank stare.

Hubby: "What? Isn't that Denise Richards?"

Me: Looking at the TV screen to verify that the channel hasn't changed on it's own. Nope. Still Michelle Rodriguez on the screen. "What are you talking about?"

Hubby: Looks at TV again. "What? She looks like Denise Richards."

Me: "What planet are you from?"

I go through this kind of stuff a lot with my husband. There are times when I know we're wired differently and we will never see eye to eye on some things. However, he can't take all the blame--even on my own blog.

The thing is, I'm really literal. I mean really, really literal. I've mentioned before that I think I have Asperger's syndrome, and without belaboring the point too much, a super-literal mind is characteristic of the syndrome. Or maybe it's just me. I don't know.

Anyway, my husband is a goof-ball. Non-sequiturs are a big part of his everyday conversation. He likes "Seinfeld" to the point that he will insert quotes from the show into a conversation at will-- much to my confusion.

Just recently I was reading a book about Asperger's and trying to explain something to my husband about the syndrome when he suddenly pipes up "You're like George Costanza! You've got to do everything the opposite of the way you've been doing it your whole life!"

I literally started crying.

It took my husband about ten minutes to convince me that he was, in fact, kidding. He did not win any points for sensitivity that night.

And then it occurs to me that my husband is actually the one who could be compared to George Costanza. Throwing out an inappropriate comment is not that unusual for him. I threw a birthday party for him a few years ago and invited a ton of people. We were playing pool and hubby was playing a game with a female co-worker, Michelle, who has become friends with us over the years. Anyway, my husband missed a shot and ended up setting up Michelle perfectly for her next shot-- which she made with ease. Then hubby decides to pipe up and say, really loudly, "Oh sure, you always like my sloppy seconds" thinking that would be funny. Needless to say, every eye in the room looked at him in a slightly horrified fashion. My jaw dropped and just as I was about to whip out a can of whup ass on my husband, Michelle walks up to me, pats my arm and says, "don't worry, he knows not what he's saying..."

And you know what, she was right. He had no clue that "sloppy seconds" had a potentially offensive meaning, like this funny article I found, or that maybe it's not a good idea to say the phrase, loudly, in front of a lot of co-workers.

I think I've managed to rein him in a little though. I've tried, mightily, to get him to think before he speaks-- not an easy task. I haven't been embarrassed in front of a large crowd of people in months, so I think it's working.

Oh the karma is a bitch! ** Updated**

Okay. I am so sorry I keep posting family stuff here. I really am. But I kind of feel like this bit of family drama is more in the nature of gossip.

Is it wrong to gossip about one's mom?

My brother emailed me tonight and said mom and dad are fighting and that my dad told my mom he was done with her and she might as well find someone in the States to live with.

Oh snap.

The most amazing part is that I haven't heard from my mom. That's right. She hasn't come begging at my door.

I am in shock and awe.

Personally, I doubt my mom will leave my dad. A big part of the reason is because I'm not sure anyone here will take her and she has no money. Well, other than what she can take from my dad's social security-- and that isn't much.

I'm kind of on pins and needles waiting to hear from my brother. He'll probably call me next week. At two in the morning.

**Update**

I heard a little more from my brother last night. My mom apparently decided to tell my dad how she really feels and she let loose with a barrage of you're a loser and a prick and my life is ruined because of you. So then my dad asks her if she told me that she was the one who turned down the offer on the house?

Boy. My mom will walk a thousand miles to avoid responsibility for anything won't she? My dad has screwed up a lot but I suspect she's laid a lot as his feet that he isn't responsible for. I bet the main reason my brother is struggling financially is because my mom is the one who insists on staying in the hotel.

Oh well. Not my problem. She's not living with me. Knowing her she'll find a way to suck up to my dad and smooth things over. For her sake, she better.

Why does my family have to live in crazy town?

Every two months or so, my brother ambushes me with a phone call. It's usually at 1:00 in the morning or some equally heinous hour. I don't know why. He just thinks he can do that because I'm his sister. Unfortunately he's right. I'd hang up on pretty much anyone other than him.

((Quick aside: my son just ran by carrying his Transformer blanket singing the Transformer song "Transformers...more than meets the eye..." He's making a fort in the living room. Cutest thing I've ever seen.))

This is the brother who lives in Thailand. Up until recently I thought he was living with my parents but I guess they've decided to live in a hotel in a nearby town. Apparently my mom likes room service.

When my brother gets mad his phone calls are kind of hard to decipher. Also, there's the added difficulty that his phone calls from Thailand are made on a phone card that usually runs out after six minutes or so. So his conversation comes at me in machine gun like bursts. I mean, he goes! I only hear from him every couple of months so he tries to cram as much information he can and it's pretty overwhelming. Let me tell you.

It goes something like this.

"Theresa, OMGwheredoIstart?Youcan'tbelievehowbadmomanddadarebeing.TheyaresuchassholesThey'respendingallofthemoney.Ihadtohockmyweddingringandmom'sbraggingabouthavingroomservice.They'rethemostworthlesspeopleever!

After about two minutes my head is exploding.

I'm so glad my family is half a world away. Although in a perfect world, my brother would come back and my mom and dad would stay in Thailand.

That may be what happens next.

I don't know the whole story, but then I never do. I did get a fairly nasty email from my mom a few weeks ago after I told her that I thought it was b.s. that they didn't pay my brother back and I was a bit bothered by the fact that they paid to store a bunch of clothes she didn't need while leaving behind all the art projects my brothers and I had made as kids. (you know, the little ashtrays and flowerpots kids make in second grade to give to mom and dad? Though I doubt anyone makes ashtrays anymore) Anyway, she sent me back a bile filled note full of denial and guilt. Pretty much what I expected. So I sent her back a note saying that my son and I have Asperger's and I can't deal with any of her b.s. right now. Surprisingly she then sent me a very nice note full of motherly love. That really shocked me. More than the mean note. Until my brother tells me that now my mom is telling everyone that I'm mad at her because I'm autistic and I don't know what I'm saying. I'm too addled to know what's what.

Now that's the mom I know and love.

So, since my parents are in the process of well and truly screwing my brother I'm selling the few items my parents asked me to hold for them so I can send the money to my brother. Oddly, I feel guilty for doing this. I've never been one to go against my word and I feel weird in doing something that seems so blatantly "screw you." But if my brother has to hock his wedding ring to buy food and my mom is gloating that she doesn't have to clean up her room because she has room service, I guess I can sell a couple of things for my brother without guilt.

Man, my mom's email is going to be really bad now. Maybe she won't talk to me anymore. Now that's something to hope for.

Wow, no matter how far away they are, they can still screw things up for me

So I get an email from my mom this morning.

Ugh.

I get about one email a month from my mom. Generally they don't say much. I've gotten more info about what's going on with her and my dad in Thailand from the one phone call I got from my brother. But this time she decided to ask me why I haven't sent pictures to her.

The last email she sent she asked me to send pictures, specifically of my house. No mention of the kids. Naturally, I was suspicious. I figure my dad wants to see pictures of the house so he can pick out their bedroom. So without saying anything I just didn't send any pictures over. I did that because the whole non-acknowledgement thing is my mom's strategy. Whenever I ask her something she doesn't want to answer, she just ignores the question. I thought, okay, I'll do the same thing and put her on the spot. If she wants to know what's up, she's going to have to ask. And she never does that.

But she finally did. A day before we leave for Disneyland. Great timing mom.

So I had to tell her what's what. I had to tell her the stuff I found out about after they left. I had to tell her that I was offended they paid for a storage unit to store her clothes but left behind the stuff my brothers and I made for her as kids. I had to tell her that I'm not letting them stay here if they come back to the states.

This sucks.

I hate being in the position of having to lay all this out. I hate having to send off that email and potentially leave without knowing what kind of a reaction she's going to have to it. I hate that I will probably be mulling over this during my trip to Disneyland. I want to enjoy myself and I don't need any more of their B.S.

Why do my parents have to be such shits?

Disneyland

Oh how I love Disneyland.

We're taking the kids next week and I am stupid excited. We haven't been in four years since we took our daughter there for her birthday and I think I'm more jazzed than the kids.

My son has never been so he doesn't have a point of reference. He's kind of excited but I don't think knows why. My daughter is kind of excited too, but she's torn between being happier over going to Disneyland or missing school. Understandable.

Disneyland is one of those memories for me that has never been sullied by anything unpleasant. Even arguing over who got the last E ticket (for those of you who remember those) can take the shine off the Magic Kingdom. I remember going on Space Mountain as a kid and being dazzled by the stars glowing in the darkness. That was my favorite ride for a long time. Now that I'm older I appreciate the Pirates of the Caribbean more. Who needs all the twists and turns of a roller coasted when you can watch the pirates chase the pirate wenches -- though now they've made it PC by having the wenches carrying platters of food so delicate minds won't think salacious thoughts.

Oh and the light parade. I used to love staying up late and watching the light parade. We're driving in Sunday and we're going to take the kids to see the parade once we get there. My daughter was a little scared of it the last time we went. I remember her being bothered by the snails that would drive around in circles. Hopefully she's forgotten that by now.

Sadly, my daughter isn't into the Princesses anymore. They're too babyish for her now. Fortunately she is replacing the Princess fixation with a healthy appreciation for Jack Sparrow and frankly, I can find no fault with that.

So here's looking forward to walking our legs to the bone, standing in lines and getting sunburned in the happiest place on Earth. I can't wait.

Last Minute Mom Stuff

I feel like this blog is my neglected child. I have two other blogs that focus on sci-fi and they take so much of my blogging time that I never seem to have the chance to use this personal blog. I suppose that's just as well, I have had a tendency to be too maudlin over the last few months and no one really wants to see that. Heck, when I read personal blogs, I prefer the funny stuff. I just wish I had better comic timing.

I'm yawning all over the place today. My daughter, who turns eight on Sunday, decides to remind me last night at 9:30pm that she needs cupcakes to take to school today. Doh! I should have remembered that myself but it slipped my mind. Well, almost. I thought of it last night before she reminded me but I thought, I can do it Monday, that's closer to her birthday anyway. But second graders don't think that way. The class celebration must be prior to, or on, the actual birthday. So, not wanting to be the mom who shafted her kid on her birthday I schlepped myself up to the store, got supplies, and was up to about midnight making cupcakes. Oh well, it's all for a good cause. She may not remember as she gets older that I made her cupcakes for school, but she sure as hell would remember if I didn't!

She's a good kid though. I would've probably been kicking myself if I hadn't done it.

Not to get maudlin again (sorry!) but my parents have been known to forget my birthday. Not too much when I was little, but that's kind of hard when you have an 8-year-old reminding you every other second that their birthday is 2 days and 6--- no 5 hours and 45 minutes away. But there was this time when I was 10....

I'm not entirely sure they forgot my birthday but I think they did. I didn't get any birthday presents that year. My mom and dad gave me a card saying that my dad was going to build me a swing-set for my birthday. Bwahahahahahahah! I knew right then and there I'd never see the swing-set. My dad is not exactly a master builder. He put up a fence once and forgot to put in a gate. It was funny. We had this massive yard and my dad built a fence around the downstairs sliding door so we'd have a place to let the dogs out. But you could only get in and out of the yard through the slider since he forgot the gate. But he was so proud of that fence. It wasn't straight, but he built it.

I never asked my parents about the swing-set. I knew my dad wouldn't build it, but I also knew that if I pestered him enough to actually try, I'd end up with something sure to break my neck, so I let the whole thing lie. But I still think they forgot the birthday and tried to come up with a last minute promise so I wouldn't think they forgot. Wouldn't be the last time.

I wonder if my brothers had this happen to them too? I've never asked them and I probably won't. Why bother bringing up something that will just end up in a bitter conversation? (I know.. I know... why do I do this?) But in a way I'd like to know I wasn't alone in being a little forgotten.

Okay, I gotta shake this off. I don't want to be a downer. It's just I think of this stuff when my kids birthday's roll around. I know women have looooong memories but I suspect we all do when we're kids. And I sure as heck don't want my children to remember that I forgot to think they're important on their birthdays. I would deserve to be smacked for that.

Oh the Humanity

I don't know about you, but I'm a believer in always learning as you get older. Not only should we strive to learn new things, but I think it's important to learn from our mistakes. That seems like common sense, right? Most people think that way don't they? Well, maybe Elliot Spitzer hasn't learned that lesson yet, but we should try at least, right?

My parents don't seem to think so.

Sometimes I wonder how they managed to keep a roof over our heads. I mean, I really really wonder.

My brother called me a few days ago. He made the token effort to say I ought to call my mom. I made the token effort to agree, for a second or so, but then I started thinking about the manner in which they left and my voice started getting higher and higher and my brother finally told me why he really called.

Even brothers need to vent.

First, you should know, my brother is the worlds most easygoing guy. He invented the word mellow. I mean, you'd have to be incredibly calm to lend someone $100k, not get it back, and then let them live with you. Me? I'd be in jail by now.

So once my brother calmed my tantrum down he started to tell me what it's like living with them on that side of the world.

Basically, nothing's changed.

My parents arranged to have their social security and my dad's disability checks sent over there and that's what everyone is living on. Fortunately the American dollar goes a long way in Thailand so they have more than enough. Of course the standard of living isn't like the U.S., but it's not bad. But my mom, who I remember as never being satisfied by anyplace we ever stayed at, is already wanting to move to a house on the beach. That's my mom. Even broke she wants the best of everything.

I guess the IRS also caught up with them. My dad hasn't paid taxes in years so the IRS has attached their money, but they're not really taking that much (especially considering how much they likely owe). There is a loophole though. The IRS can't take any money if you're making less that $20k -something a year-- I can't remember the exact number. So my parent's accountant is supposed to send a statement to the IRS showing my dad hasn't worked for the last few years. Of course my dad uses that as added justification as to why he can't work.

But get this, my parents are still spending all their money. My brother is going nuts. He's trying to keep them on a budget but they want to have everything and they're being insanely lazy. My mom was supposed to get her visa renewed but she didn't in time so now they're going to have to pay almost double-- which is just stupid since they had no reason not to get it done. They are the laziest people you can imagine. But the worst part is that they're withholding money from my brother. I am so disgusted by this. My dad is acting like he has the right to dole out the money on his whim even though he owes my brother more money than he could ever pay back. My sister-in-law and my mom went to the store to buy food and my mom was being super cheap about everything (she's only cheap when she's not spending on herself). So Yui (my sister-in-law) tells my brother and he asks my dad what's going on. Turns out my mom wants to go to Bangkok and spend the night in a hotel. So my dad tells her fine, don't spend money on food so they can splurge on a night out for themselves as the expense of my brother's family. Nice. These are the lovely people who raised me.

I'm sorry I keep belaboring this, but it's the story that never ends. Just when you think it can't get worse, it does.

There is a little bit of black comedy in this though. My mom and dad bought some sculptures about 15 years ago that I swear they thought were going to be their retirement. They had this 300lb marble angel that they told me they paid $10k for, but has a $30k appraisal. They also had a bronze sculpture that had an $18k appraisal. I kept harping on them for the last year to sell this stuff. They're broke and need the money, right? And I couldn't figure out why they just sat on this stuff. So when they left I told them I'd sell it and send the money to them. After talking to my brother I decided I would send the money to him though-- and I told him that on the phone. So the next day I got in touch with Bonhams and Butterfields in San Francisco. They're a very old, very prestigious auction house. I talked to a wonderful man with a very sophisticated British accent (my mother would have felt very chichi doing this) and he told me their stuff was basically worthless.

I'm sorry, but this is funny. My dad is one of those guys who thinks he can never be taken by anyone. Used car salesman, remember? If anyone pays $1000 too much on a car he'll give you hell and tell you that you "got your head ripped off." And laugh at you. Seriously. But the thing is, my dad is the biggest sucker for a good sales pitch. He's the guy who buy crap stock because some guy he met on the airplane said it was good. He buys stuff from people making calls from a boiler room.

The thing is, I always thought the appraisals on their stuff were suspect. They were written up by the same company that sold the items-- which has subsequently gone out of business. They misspelled words on the appraisal-- that should be a clue shouldn't it?

So my parents thought they had a 19th Century piece of art that turned out to have been made in Mexico about 30 years ago. They thought it would be worth more than $30k and I'll be lucky to get one thousand out of it. Yeah, that sounds about right. The other piece, the one that's supposed to be worth $18k is worth about $500.

I felt bad at first because I thought I wasn't going to be able to send my brother anything. But all may not be lost. My parents left 4 pieces of art by Peter Max (on the living room floor for anyone to take no less) that are signed and authenticated. Those might actually be worth something and my parents don't even know I have them. If I can get something for those that will go directly to my brother so he can recoup something out of this mess.

So my husband has more stories to tell at work and I have more material for my future therapy sessions.

Sorry for unloading again. But jeez, my parents are crazy. I wonder if they have alzheimer's.....

Ugh!

I hate New Years resolutions. I never make them. Well, mostly. I pretty much resolve to lose weight year round and pretty much gain and lose the same 10 pounds in an endless cycle of self-loathing.

So I threw the scale away. I really did. I just can't live like that anymore; pegging my self-esteem to a number on a scale. I swear, it got so bad that if I weighed myself and I was up 2 pounds I'd be depressed all day.

What kind of life is that I ask you?

I blame my mom. She of the freakishly high metabolism that kept her at about 100lbs her whole adult life and couldn't figure out why I had such a hard time. After all, being skinny is easy, isn't it? I should never have relished in her menopausal weight gain but I did. She stopped griping about my weight for the first time in my life and I got to lecture her about how beneficial a trip to the gym would be. Oh paybacks are a bitch.

I feel like I am in this weird flux state in my life right now. I haven't weighed myself in a couple of months and it's been pretty great. The world didn't end, my clothes still fit and I can make it through the day without a fit of self-loathing. Who knew how liberating ignoring ones weight could be?

Sadly, it does help that my mom is gone (not dead, just out of the country...). I no longer worry about comments about my current hairstyle, clothing or shoes. Yes, I can wear my Croc's without comments about how wide they make my feet look. These are silly little freedoms but you'd be surprised how the little things add up.

I just hope that I have learned something though. I hope I can raise my daughter without so many superficial judgements. I hope I appreciate her for who she is and what she can offer without letting 'appearances sake' get in the way. I've had enough of that for one lifetime.

Sob

I wish I didn't need to use my blog as a diary. I wish I didn't feel like the acid in my stomach is a volcano ready to erupt. I wish my parents were leaving when they originally said they were going to *&^%$# leave!

They delayed their flight by three days. That might not seem like much, but it's an eternity to me. I went over to their house today to pack up stuff that they've graciously decided to pawn off on me and my gut has been ready to explode ever since.

Is it wrong to wish for a big blow-up so I can tell my dad never to call me again? I actually wish for this too.

The drama right now is over the fact that my parents want to store a bunch of stuff in our garage. My husband is so mad he can't see straight. My dad lays this guilt trip on me that because we're "family" he shouldn't have to even feel bad about asking us to store his shit for him. WTF? I don't remember seeing a family rulebook that says it's okay to take advantage of your kids without guilt. Then my dad tells me that because he gave us this pinball machine that my husband wanted ....I could've paid for a years worth of storage for what I could have sold that for..... we should store his stuff for him. My husband is ready to go rent a truck and park the pinball machine in their driveway.

I don't blame him.

My parents have also said they want to spend the night with us right before they leave but I think that's going to be off the table. My husband has decided he will put them up in a hotel before that comes to pass and I think that's wise. I can just see my dad telling us, after he's already in the door, that he's postponed his flight again and they're going to spend Christmas with us.

I think not.

Stress!!!

I'm as so stressed. I know I've been using my blog as a personal diary lately with TMI in virtually every post. But I'm sure you've been there before, haven't you? The stress you're dealing with is family related and you can't exactly call your mom and tell her what's going on when your mom is the problem. And my poor husband is just plain tired of hearing about it. And frankly, hearing his rants about my family don't exactly lift the stress right off of my shoulders either.

We're moving this week (Ya!) and that's actually not too bad. We have probably had the most hassle-free home purchase ever. This is so ironic considering the credit crunch that is going on right now. I guess the frugality that my husband and I live our lives by has finally paid off. We got the keys today and my dear hubby is currently painting his brains out. I would be over there helping him, but without babysitting there is no way I could take our 3-year-old demon child over there an expect to have a fingerprint-free paint job. Heck, I expect the boy would be covered in paint from head-to-toe in a matter in minutes-- right after my husband pulled all of his own hair out.

No, my stress is pretty much all related to my parents. Isn't that something? I'm moving during Thanksgiving week and that's nothing compared to dealing with my family. But you so know what I'm talking about don't you? You know you do. You're planning on having Thanksgiving dinner right now with relatives that drive you up the wall. Don't lie.

I've been living in terror for the last three weeks that my mom and dad were going to try to weasel their way into living with me. We bought a house that would be big enough to move them in, but there is no way in hell that I would ever, ever let that happen. My dad threw out a comment the first week that hey, there's room for all of us there! Your mom and I could go on hubby's insurance as dependants and I could pocket my social security money.

I think my exact response was oh shit!

My dad is one of those people who will say stuff like that to see how you'll react and if it's not a positive reaction, they'll try to pass it off as a joke. Riiiiiight. Just a joke. He wouldn't be joking if I said he could move in.

But I told my mom straight up that there was no way that I could live with my dad. Period. I've watched my dad wreck their finances for the last 5 years and I know for a fact he would take advantage of us and put us in the poor-house as well. No thank you. I may be a cold-hearted daughter, but I see no reason to bankrupt my family because my dad hadn't the financial sense not to rack up almost a million dollars in debt-- that he will completely default on.

What's really galling is that my dad wasn't some poor schmuck who earned minimum wage his whole life. No, he earned big bucks. He'd spend $30k a year on lavish vacations. They bought a stupid $10,000 marble statue of an angel that doesn't go with anything. My mom bought fur coats and we live in California. Need I say more?

Luckily, my parents have finally made arrangements to go to Thailand. They're flying out 3 days after we move. Thank God! But it's been a grind. My dad expects me to put my life on hold to help him with his stuff even though I'm moving! He calls me and says I need you to do me a favor and tells me that they're going to be spending the night at my house the day we move. Um, hello? Ever think about asking me if that was okay first? I put my foot down though and told him no way. I don't care that you have packed up your mattresses, where the heck do you think you're going to sleep at my house? On the boxes I haven't emptied yet? Jerk.

So then I tell my mom yesterday that I'm tired of them telling me what I need to do for them. If they want me to do them a favor, ask! Don't demand. My mom gets all patronizing when I get mad and says things like I know, we're all stressed, as if they're not actually doing anything wrong, I'm just stressed out. She did this to me too when I was planning my wedding--but that's an old gripe.

But I still laid down the law. I said I would help if I could. I would try to find a way to let them spend the night right before they left, but not the very day we move in. My mom tells me that my dad's feelings are hurt. Jeebus. My dad has never given a rat's ass about any one's feelings his whole life but now we need to worry about his delicate sensibilities. Sorry, that ship has sailed.

So I'm trying to hold strong. I'm trying to protect my family while managing to stay on speaking terms with my parents-- not easy. But if I have to go silent to keep my kids and my husband from harm, then I will. But I guarantee my parents are going to be nice to me. They won't have anyone else to stay with if they come back for a visit.

My Mother-in-Law is a Tattooed Wiccan

I mentioned in an earlier post that my in-law's divorce saga was just too good a story to pass up-- and it is. I'll try to just hit the highlights, but I may still ramble a bit.

When I first met my husband's family I thought they were soooo normal, and for awhile, they were. My in-laws have been married 35 years and they kept it together for most of that time. They did split up for a year back when my husband was 11, but got back together when my father-in-law supposedly shaped up his act.

Let me back up a bit. My FIL is a career military guy. He flew F-4's in Vietnam and is now a General. I won't specify his position because it could actually hurt his career to have stuff circulating about him, and despite the family drama, I do respect the service he's given his country. But military men are notoriously controlling and in his younger days he had a temper. My MIL was not a strong woman back then but she finally decided enough was enough and left. My FIL calmed down, treated her better and they worked things out.

But over the years another problem creeped up. Confidentiality. My FIL has a political job that involves a lot of secrecy. My husband will sometimes ask questions about what he does and his dad has to say, I can't tell you that, it's classified. It's not as bad as I could tell you but I'd have to kill you... But in all seriousness, that's the job and my FIL isn't making it up. But can you imagine the strain on the marriage? Most of the time he can't talk about his job. The habit is so ingrained that we never hear about his job. No workplace gossip or anything. I couldn't stand that, I love water cooler talk.

Over time this has bled into my FIL's everyday life. He is so used to keeping to himself that I don't think the poor man knows how to communicate beyond giving orders anymore and my MIL is literally starving to death for attention.

So, about two years ago, my FIL starts acting even more secretive than usual. He'd say he was going to go to Home Depot to pick something up and be gone for three hours. He started getting mysterious phone calls. My MIL found his Viagra. Yep, an affair, though he still won't cop to it.

The sad thing is that my MIL held on to the belief that is was just an "emotional affair" for a long time (as if that was better) but I think she's finally come to terms with the fact that he probably used a few of those Viagra, though I don't know if she actually counted them. I would have. But I'm a glutton for punishment.

My MIL's reaction was a bit strange though. Rather than kick his butt out she started acting like a rebellious teenager looking for attention. ((We actually kicked him out for her, but she let him back in just two weeks later after he promised to go to counseling, declaring I've known that man for 34 years and I trust him. He never went to counseling.)) I forget which came first, her decision to become a witch, or the tattoos. I think it was the witch thing first.

I can't remember how it came up initially. I just remember she told my husband that she was going to be a Wiccan. My husband just kind of rolled his eyes and went with it. She's always been the type to get wild hairs every now and then, but this was a new one. I told my husband not to give her a hard time because I thought she was looking for a diversion. But in hindsight, I think she was hoping to shock her straight laced military husband. We'd go over for Thanksgiving and she'd force us to sit through all these pagan blessings. Oh, but only after saying that Halloween was now some kind of major holiday for witch-kind and decking the house out in all it's Halloween finery, lighting candles and casting spells. At least she doesn't do anything halfway.

Unfortunately my FIL just wasn't as rattled by the whole Wiccan thing as my MIL hoped. He'd kind of shake his head, but never really offered a big reaction, which is what I think she was hoping for. So she started getting tattoos. Now, I don't want to be judgemental. Tattoos are pretty commonplace now, but when your MIL starts getting them, they just don't seem that cool anymore.

She started with a moon and stars on her ankle, then a ladybug on her foot. Followed by a small fairy on the other ankle and a great big fairy on her inner ankle that goes up her leg. They're pretty-- I guess. But they're also a pretty drastic measure to get your husband's attention don't you think?

And sadly, that didn't seem to get his attention either. I think he's just totally indifferent now. So MIL is talking divorce, though I don't know how long it'll take before she gets the guts up to actually do it. My FIL is beyond indifferent to her emotionally, but he manipulates her into staying because he doesn't want to lose half his pension. I personally think he's back with his girlfriend but I don't know for sure. I don't really have the energy to deal with it since my parent's drama is ongoing, but I expect that within days of my parents finally leaving, my in-laws will go into full-scale drama mode.

Oh, and I haven't even mentioned the fact that my MIL decided awhile ago that she was bi-polar (she used to be a nurse and self-diagnosed herself) she got a psychologist to go along with it and has been taking meds for it--including Lithium. And she's become a raging alcoholic-- using the drink induced haze to run her mouth at family gatherings.

But you gotta laugh. It's like a black comedy written by the Farrelly Brothers. And the weird thing is that I still think my family is worse. My husband agrees. He thinks that compared to my family, this is garden variety stuff. I should write a screenplay.

I haven't heard much about my MIL's "religion" lately though. I wonder if she's got some other ideas brewing in that head of hers to get my FIL's attention. It could be an interesting Christmas this year.

Sassy, the One Eyed Wonder Klutz

So, we're getting a dog. By the title of my post you've probably already deduced she's not any ordinary dog.

Who wants ordinary?

My parents are moving sometime in the near future and I'm inheriting the dog. I love this dog. As the title of my post suggests her name is Sassy and she is the greatest animal on the planet.

I don't know what it is, but my family has never had normal pets. We're all a little nuts and I'm sure our pets reflect that; but our pets also have personality. Oh yeah.

Where do I begin with Sassy?

My mom got Sassy just before I had my son, so she's almost four years old. She was the cutest puppy you ever saw. A little apricot colored bundle of toy poodle with bad hair. You know how most poodles have a kind of regal snootiness about them? Not Sassy, she's the poodle who's hair sticks out at weird angles and isn't quite curly enough to sustain the pouf the doggie hairdressers try to put in her tail. You gotta love a dog who has bad hair days.

Sassy had a great personality from the get-go. Super sweet with this teddy bear face that almost diverted attention from my newborn son. Though we noticed right from the start that Sassy was very clumsy. You know, the kind of dog that trips over their feet when they're running at you. Most puppies outgrow this but Sassy still finds running very tricky.

My mom has always spoiled our pets shamelessly and they often live twice as long as they're supposed to for the food alone. Sassy got the doggie bed, the little outfits, the toys and even a little knitted blanket. I remember the blanket well. Sassy was laying on my couch one day when my mom came over to help with the baby and I was petting the dog. Sassy jumped up in a puppy frenzy to play with me and promptly started yelping as her front claws got caught in the fabric of the blanket. Poor baby. I untangled her and she licked my face in puppy gratitude and got on with her day. It was an omen I think.

Our dogs have always had these kind of slender metal collars; designer duds for doggies I think. So of course my mom immediately went out and got one for Sassy. I don't think it lasted a week. Somehow, while trying to get the collar off, she got the collar wedged in her mouth. I don't think this is too unusual, my cat used to do this every now and then. But Sassy wedged that thing in so tight my parents couldn't get it off no matter how they tried. My mom got out the wire cutters and metal collars are now a thing of the past.

Things went along like this for awhile. Sassy would run and trip and bite her tongue and do all sorts of silly things, but nothing too serious. Until the Great Dane that is.

My brother had a Great Dane. Another dog with a fantastic personality. I remember when he got her and told me her name was Kingcow. Huh? What the hell kind of name is Kingcow? Turns out he named her after a friend of his who lives in Thailand. I suppose Kingcow (Kinkow?) could be a Thai name. But I digress. After my brother decided to move to Thailand my parents agreed to keep the Great Dane. I don't know many people who would take on that challenge but we are the type to go overboard with our pets. So they ended up with two strangely paired dogs: the Poodle and the Great Dane. And they got along very well; no sibling rivalry at all. But it turns out, size matters.

My mom was babysitting my kids for an overnight stay when the strangest thing happened. I have given my mom a lot of crap on the blog so far, but one thing I really admire about her is that nothing rattles her. Nothing.

So the kids had been at the house for a few hours and I called to check in and my mom tells me every thing's fine and the kids are having a great time. Cool. So my husband and I have our date night and go to pick up the kids the next morning. When we get there I notice that Sassy is looking very strange. One of her eyes looks like it's about ready to pop out of her skull. And it's an alarming red color.

Oh, funny story, my mom tells me.

Mom: Kingcow knocked Sassy's eye out last night.

Me: Um, what did you just say?

Mom: Oh, it's nothing really. The dogs were playing and Sassy jumped up somehow and her head went into Kingcow's mouth and I think one of her teeth hit Sassy's eye and knocked it out.

Me: Silence.

Mom: I didn't want to worry you when you called last night. Dad had already taken the dog to the vet and the kids didn't see anything. I saw Sassy's eye right after it came out and I picked her up really fast so the kids wouldn't see it. I had dad distract the kids while I put her eye back in.

Me: Standing with jaw dropped.

Mom: The vet said there really wasn't anything else we could do. He thinks the eye will stay in but doesn't know if she'll ever see again.

Finally I manage a coherent thought. You put her eye back in??!!

Mom: Well, I had to, it was kind of hanging there....

Me: Kind of twitching now, And you didn't call me to come pick up the kids?!

Mom: I didn't want to spoil your evening....

Me: More stunned silence.

Even though I called Sassy a "one eyed" in the title of this post, she still actually has the eye, though she can't see out of it. You'd never know. She's always been clumsy so there's no discernible difference, though she has a tendency to look at you sideways if you're facing her bad eye. Weeeeellll maybe she is a bit more clumsy. My mom actually knocked the dog out cold one day playing catch with the dog. I kid you not. She threw the ball and Sassy apparently didn't see it coming and it hit her right on the temple and the dog keeled over like a tipped cow. My poor mom thought she had killed her dog, but fortunately Sassy rebounded quickly and my mom's heart started beating again.

My hand to God, this is all true.

And I can't wait to bring her home. My mom is not looking forward to leaving the dog. I mean, anyone who would put your eye back in must really love you right? Gah! Just the thought of it... Maybe I'm crazy for a taking a dog with this history, but maybe it's like someone who has already been stuck by lightening; what are the odds of it happening again? Quick, I need some wood to knock.

And is my mom a cool customer or what?

The Delicate Art of Husband Management

Men don't get it. And they will tell you that too. They will also tell you that they have no conscious thoughts floating around in their heads at any given time. Just ask.

So is it really surprising that they almost always say exactly the wrong thing?

For me this comes up most frequently when I lament the fact, that despite running several miles a day, doing martial arts and eating grass disguised as salad, I can't lost weight. You'd think, after 12 years together he'd have a clue by now. But no, still clueless. Instead of saying what any sane woman wants to hear, Honey, I love you just the way you are... he's always saying crap like, I'm sure if you keep at it, the weight will come off. Tell the truth, you want to kill him already, don't you?

But I must admit fault here too. See, I was very slow to realize that I was supposed to tell him exactly what to say. That's right ladies, they will not figure it out for themselves. Ever. So it is up to us to coach them in the fine are of saying the right thing.

So the last time my husbands started in on his Oh, I'm sure you'll get it figured out eventually.... I stopped him mid-sentence. I tried not to actually say shut up, but it may have slipped out. Anyway, I stopped him before he made sure he'd never have sex again in this century and told him point blank, that is not what you're supposed to say!

Oh the confusion. The poor dear really didn't know what was going on. But I stood my ground and told him to quit trying to encourage me because he just didn't know how. I told him to repeat after me and slowly, with careful enunciation, said the words that every man should write on the back of his hand and say at least 10 times a day to the woman in his life. Honey, I love you just the way you are. I made him repeat it. I also told him to throw in a I don't think you need to lose any weight for good measure.

I told him to practice on his own. A lot.

Next week we're working on I don't care if you gain 50 pounds, I'll still love you just the way you are.

Dear God, Please Don't Let Me End Up Like My Parents

(Warning. This is a long friggin' post)

I bet just about everyone has uttered that prayer once or twenty times, my kids included. But let me tell you, I've got reasons.

I don't know what it is, but it seems like everyone I know who is in my age group (mid-to-late 30's) is going through some kind of parental crisis. And I don't mean a paltry health crisis either, oh no, that would be too easy. I'm talking divorce (my husband's parents), finances (my parents) and health (pretty much everyone).

I've generally stayed away from stuff that's too personal on my sci-fi blog, mostly to protect my kids. But after spending a year in cyber space and meeting some very cool people, I think I can vent in a general way from time to time. I just won't use names, you know, to protect the guilty.

And you gotta vent, right?

Alrighty, let me fill in some details for those of you who've managed to stay curious about all this.

My parents. Where do I start? Deep breath. Okay.

I was adopted as an infant and for the most part I'd say I have no issues with that. But there is a weird disconnect that comes from knowing you are not blood related to the family that raised you. I grew up thinking that maybe the love I felt for my family wasn't as strong as it would have been had I been related by blood. That's ridiculous of course, but still, you can't blame a kid for not understanding that.

It took having my own kids to realize that the love is the same and for that I will always be grateful I had kids. But at the same time seeing yourself reflected in the face of your children and their mannerisms drives home the undeniable truth that no matter how much you wish it wasn't so, you are different from the people who raised you. I don't mean values and that sort of thing. But the truth is there are things that come with genetic bonds. Your doctor knows this is true, that's why they ask you about your family history every time you have a health concern.

In my family, like many, the issues related to substance abuse and manic-depression. My parents were fairly stable, though my dad has a tendency toward alcoholism and gambling and my mom --hell, I don't even know the story there. Okay, maybe not so stable.

Anyway, the reason I mention all that stuff is to kind of give a background so you understand how they got where they are now. On the surface my parents look normal, successful even. But my mom wouldn't have it any other way. She has always compulsively tried to make sure the world would look at us and see the ideal family. Oh dear God, who did she think she was kidding? But it was this drive to appear normal that has allowed her to ignore what has been in front of her face for 40 years. Our family is nuts.

More history-- I have three brothers. One I haven't seen in 10 years due to a bad meth and alcohol addiction. How bad? He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver and hepatitis C at 35 and told one good alcohol binge could kill him. Didn't slow him down. Last I heard he had somehow managed to get out of jail despite a weapons charge that included endangering a minor. He should never have been let out but he usually informs on his drug suppliers to get paroled and then leaves the state. Another brother moved to Missouri about 15 years ago and I seem him every 8 years or so. My third brother-whom I am closest with and love dearly, is manic depressive and moved to Thailand about 2 years ago. I get phone calls now and then.

Back to my parents. I've been nagging them for years to save money for retirement. My dad made a lot of money during his good earning years but they spent like crazy. They'd go on these month long vacations and stay in 5 star hotels. My dad once told me the tab on one vacation was $30k. So I bug my mom since my dad won't listen to me. I ask her what they have put aside for retirement and she tells me they're fine. I suggest that they cut their vacations in half and put away the money they'd save in a retirement account. She tells me, "oh it's your father who wants to take these vacations..." I'm thinking, what's that got to do with anything?

So I nag and they tell me I'm so tight I squeak. That's always been the family joke. Everyone in my family goes through money like water, but not me. For some reason I've always been very frugal, even as a kid. There's no reason for it, my parents never denied me anything. But for some reason I always had a different mentality about money-- one of the things I've kind of wondered if it could be inherited genetically, but probably not.

Once I got married and had kids I became too preoccupied to nag my parents too much about their health or their finances, but I did still try. My dad was a chain smoker for most of his life and I bugged him about that. He was always losing weight on the Atkins diet and then gaining it back-- and then some. My mom had fake boobs (that's a whoooole other counseling session) and they burst and made her really sick and she ended up with lupus and arthritis. My dad predictably ended up with diabetes and heart disease that culminated in a massive heart attack he barely survived.

Needless to say, their health is poor.

Oh but wait, there's more. Oh so much more.

The heart attack put my dad off his feet for almost a year. He'd had his own business for over 20 years but it was a one man shop and there was no one to take up the slack. I asked my mom about that, but everything was fine. But I knew that wasn't the case because my dad had taken a loan out against the house in a business gamble that was poorly thought out and didn't go well. I don't know how much he lost, but it wasn't pretty.

Fast forward two years or so. My brother comes home from Thailand to settle some business and he stays with my parents for a couple of months. He starts telling me they aren't doing well financially. I knew it was bad but I didn't know the extent of it. My brother tells me he loaned my dad $100k, and I'm thinking, wow it is bad. So I bring it up with my mom to try to find out how bad. She didn't know about the loan. Boy, my mom can wear blinders with the best of them.

Cut to the final tally-- $600k borrowed against the house and $200k+ on the credit cards. Holy crap! $800k+ in debt and my dad's business was losing money. My mom makes my dad shut down shop since it's losing money-- and here's the kicker-- my dad doesn't go back to work claiming his health is too poor. WTF? He's been getting up and going to work everyday up to that point but now that the debt is so bad he can't see daylight he quits working altogether? Oh wait, I get it, he thinks he can sell their house for enough money to cover the debt and then some. Except he forgot that the California housing market is going into the crapper.

I found about all this about a year and a half ago.

So my dad's brilliant idea is to sell the house to cover everything. And it might have worked had they sold the house a year and a half ago. But they decided to go to Thailand since my brother and his wife were expecting a baby. They stayed 6 weeks. They come home and tell me they've decided they're now going to sell the house and move to Thailand. Okaaaaaay. Actually, this is okay. They can live on social security and get pretty good health care much cheaper than here. And because my dad can't go to a McDonald's everyday and further abuse his health his blood sugar is the best it's ever been. I tell them I whole-heartedly support the plan.

So you'd think they were on the fast-track to sell the house right? Um, no.

My dad dinks around for several months supposedly getting the house ready, but really he's just moving stuff from one pile to the next. My mom doesn't nag him to move along because she doesn't really want to move to Thailand and she's hoping for a last minute miracle. It doesn't come. January, they finally get the house on the market, but price it about $100k too high. This in a falling market too. My husband and I talk to the realtor and get their appraisal on the house and try to talk sense into my dad. He blows us off. My mom stops talking to me because she doesn't want to hear me nagging anymore. My dad starts smoking again, and my mom won't do anything about that because she doesn't want to stress out my dad any further. Yeah, those cigarettes aren't stressing out his arteries at all.

At about this time my in-laws start in on their divorce crisis-- I will probably go into this later. It's just too good a story to pass up.

So the house sits for months and as far as I know, no offers. Then I find out they did get an offer but my dad rejected it because it was too low. My mom tells me the offer was for $700k, but I later find out it was $785k. But my mom's lies are nothing new (my dad is actually my step-dad, though he's the only dad I've ever known. She told me years ago he couldn't legally adopt me because her ex wouldn't sign off on the adoption. But during the purge of all their stuff she inadvertently gave me a copy of a letter dated 1977 giving my dad consent to adopt me. Nice huh? But I'm used to it. Sort of.)

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Eight months later my dad finally realizes the house is priced too high. He lowers it to $800k (it was at $950K in the beginning). Alright, we're making progress. He's also really regretting he didn't take that earlier offer.

Now they sit. They've sold off most of their stuff to keep the rent paid but they've finally run out of money and stopped paying the mortgage. They are praying they can sell before the house forecloses. My brother who lent them the $100k is now broke and calls me periodically for money. Sigh. We don't have a big enough house to have them move in with us and did I mention, we live in California? It's still crazy expensive here and we can't buy a big enough house for all of us.

And I am ashamed to admit, in moments of reflection, like this, that I'm glad I'm adopted. I don't have an addictive personality, manic depression, heart disease, diabetes and all the other stuff in the bloodline. Of course I don't know what I do have to contend with, but maybe that's a gift.

So we all sit on eggshells. I blog about my personal stuff because I don't have anyone to talk to about this. We moved almost every year growing up (I went to 11 different schools) so I don't have any childhood friends and frankly, I'm not good at making them as an adult. And really, is it fair of me to dump this on some poor unsuspecting soul?

Oh wait, I just did.