Posts Tagged 'step-mothers'

Dum dum dum….foreshadowing!

Okay, okay…so I was going to tell you about the big fight in this post…BUUUUUUT in reading my journal, I realized that this part couldn’t be left out.  Therefore, I’m doing two posts.  This is an entry from the day before the big blowup:

Today was a very long day, with C.D. being a complete bitch the whole time.  E.*, the boys, and I went to our childhood church and Dad came along.  C.D. went to mass instead.**  She made everyone breakfast and then complained about it.  We saw a lot of people we hadn’t seen in years.  It was good to go back.

Afterward, we came back to the house and waited for C.D. to get home.  I kept asking Dad if there was anything we should do to start lunch, or if we needed to go to the store to pick something up.  He said no, C.D. was bringing home stuff to cook and had it all planned out.***  She didn’t get here until 1:30.  We were all starving by this point.****  So, she goes to cooking and complaining about how she has to do everything.  (It was soup and grilled cheese sandwiches….gee, 3 adults and 2 kids couldn’t have handled that on their own). 

As soon as we were done eating, we jumped in the car to go to NASA.  We didn’t get there until about 3:30.  Today is a Sunday, so they were closing at 6.  Not much time.  I think Little J must’ve stayed up 1/2 the night last night because he complained about everything, which only made C.D. treat him/his brother/everyone that much worse. 

When we left at closing time, Dad said they were going to take us out to dinner.  That was a surprise, although as tired as the boys were I didn’t think it was a great idea.  It was a nice dinner, anyway…probably mostly because C.D. sat at the opposite side of the table.  She actually didn’t understand what was going on when the waiter scraped the crumbs from the table with the little scraper.  Hahahahahahahaha.  At least there was that little laugh.  I don’t think she said more than 2 words to me the whole time.  Oh, well. 

As soon as we got back to the house, she went straight to bed.  No “goodnight,” no “fuck you,” nothing.  Dad just looked at me and said, “Well, C.D.’s hard to live with.”  I told him that she made me feel very unwelcome in their home.  He said, “You’re always welcome here.”  I told him that I love seeing and spending time with him, but I can’t stand being around her.  I also told him that I miss him.  He knows how hard this separation/divorce is for me, maybe more that anyone else.  I’m glad I’ll be back at Honeywine‘s house soon.


*My younger sister.

**Did I mention she’s a religious zealot, who thinks all non-catholics will go to hell?  She also fancies herself a martyr.

***There is always food in their house, but damned if you can ever find anything to eat.  Most of the things in the refrigerator have expired, and you’re left with lots of mixes and things.  My father couldn’t even find anything for us to eat in his own house!


Cruella Deville

Since I decided to write about the monster that is my step-mother after reading Honeywine‘s post about hers, I figured I’d give y’all a little background first. 

My parents were together for 25 years, until I was 18 and had already moved out of the house.  Pretty much my mother just left one day after having been unhappy for a very long time.  To my father, of course, it came out of the blue and he was devastated.  Yelling and all around nastiness ensued, and unfortunately my younger sister, then 16, witnessed more than she should have.

I rushed home as fast as I could (I lived in Georgia at the time) to be there for my dad.  We stayed about a week, and I made sure to call him at least once a week after that to check on him.  This all happened in October.  By January, he told me how he had reconnected with an old girlfriend from high school.  He said she was a friend, and he enjoyed having someone to talk to.  I thought, “That’s great, I’m glad he has someone”.  Boy, was I wrong!!!  In February, I came back home to go to my cousin’s wedding.  My younger sister was there, too, and Dad told us that his friend, C.D., would be coming with us.  He told us (exact words) that, “she’s not beautiful like your mom…she has a face like a train wreck, but she’s got a good heart”.  Okay, you can stop laughing now, I know it’s funny.  This was the first time we’d met her, and she was just as nice as could be.  I was really glad that my dad had someone to distract him from what was going on with my mother.  I still called him every weekend and he would tell me how he’d gone with C.D. to her daughter’s soccer games (she was 13 or 14 at the time…he never came to any of our school functions) and how they’d gone and done this and that.  Again, still thankful he had someone.  The most important thing you should know about C.D. is that she is completely two-faced. 

My mother served divorce papers in February.  I was actually there with my dad the day they were delivered, and I’m pretty sure it was Valentine’s Day.  Ouch, huh?  Over the next few months, he was always doing something with C.D., at least on the weekends.  He told me that they planned on dating for a year, and if they were still together at the end of the year, they’d probably get married.  Weird, I thought, but no big deal.  Wrong again.  They ended up getting married in August.  I think it was something like two weeks after my parents’ divorce was finalized. 

This was a shock!  C.D. is Catholic, my father was not.  She and my father tried to get my mother to sign anullment papers so that they could be married in the Catholic church.  Rightly, I think, my mother refused.  She’s not Catholic, either, and if she signed them, basically it would make my sisters and me bastard children in the eyes of their church.  So, they got married in the Methodist church (where my father attended).  She also moved her daughter and foster children into my childhood home.  You see, C.D. took in foster kids for the money, not because of any want to help people.  It also made her look good for the people at church.  Now, when I left home, my parents were still together, and I left a lot of my childhood things in my room.  Journals, letters, clothes, shoes, toys, etc. etc.  My two sisters did, too.  Right before the wedding, C.D. and her daughter (who at this point was a spoiled snot-nosed brat who told my sister she wanted to sleep with my husband) went through all of OUR stuff and decided what should be thrown away and what was going outside on the porch.  We were then told that we had to go through these things and take what we wanted, and the rest was going to be thrown away because they had to make room for the other kids.  This was the first blow and when the distance between my father and me started.  How could he let a stranger go through our personal things?

Over the last 8 years, there have been so many times when I’ve bitten my tongue for my father’s sake.  Pretty soon after they were married, Douche, the kids, and I moved away to Hawaii for three years.  That helped.  They did come to visit once, though, and that in and of itself is a whole other nightmare.

I was clearing out an old email account recently and came across this email.  It pretty much shows C.D.’s true colors.  By this time, Douche and I were living in Louisiana, only a 2 1/2 hour drive from Dad’s house.  Our kids have always been involved in sports, but since we had always lived so far away from family, no one ever got to watch them play but us.  We invited Dad and C.D., as well as my in-laws to come visit any chance they got.  I think Dad came twice in 2 years, and always only stayed for the shortest time possible (thanks to C.D.)  She would never let him come alone, yet never wanted to be there.  The reason for this email was that my dad had offered to babysit the kids for mine and Douche’s anniversary.  I had suggested they pick the boys up on Saturday, stay for their ball games, and visit, then take them home.  I would pick them up on Sunday afternoon.  This is the response I got from C.D.:

What if C.D. leaves our house on Friday, March 3 at 4, meets Ginger with the boys in Jasper and takes the boys home, then on Sunday about 3 meet ya’ll in Jasper we have dinner together and all return home. That would give you guys Friday night, Saturday and Sunday morning together and we could have time with the boys and all visit over dinner on Sunday. Let Dad know how you feel about that. We are not coming that Saturday to Louisiana to visit with you. C.D. and Dad

Yes, “not” was italicized and underlined.  What a bitch, huh?  She also wrote me a letter not long after they got married telling me how I didn’t appreciate my dad and her daughter was so lucky to have him in her life…blah, blah, blah.  I thought that was strange, since her daughter always told me how much she disliked my dad.  Also, out of my Dad’s kids, I was the only one who ever took the time to call him or visit him.  Huh.

There have been many other instances…culminating in a huge fight last summer when I visited.  I’ll share the details of that with you soon. 

Get it?  It’s a cliff-hanger!