Kids. Who needs them?
I see pictures of everybody's new babies, and they're all adorable: soft, sweet-smelling, tiny little feet and hands, truly bundles of joy. You have such hopes and dreams for your children, and they're your pride and joy. You watch them grow up, gain independence, find friends, find boy/girlfriends, have one crisis after another, think the world is going to end, talk to you for hours on end about how horrible that new boy/girl at school is, find another boy/girlfriend, go to the prom, learn to drive... all the things that alert you to the fact that your baby isn't a baby anymore.
And then they go to college, get the dream job, get their own apartment, move in with friends, earn their degree, become doctors or lawyers or professional football players or...
They drive dentures from the lab to the dentist's office.
I guess someone has to do it, but why my kid?
I'm absolutely exhausted. I've just spent the past three hours at puppy class and yelling at the thing that emerged from my snatch 30 years ago.
(I knew I'd work "snatch" in there somehow.)
Puppy class was fine. Emma has now realized that the little creatures who are 1/16th her size are her classmates and available for her to head-butt and play with. What's amazing is that all the little creatures have lost their fear and are now snarling and biting at Emma. Then this hideous creature who belongs to the people who sit next to us (this beast snapped at Em last week) tried to hump her face. I was less than pleased, and poor Em was confused. Personally, I think she should have opened her enormous mouth and bitten off his dingle. But she's far too sweet for that. We worked on walking on a leash today, and she did wonderfully. Then we weighed all the dogs, and she came in at 28 pounds. My little baby is a big sausage. However, a past student came into class with her baby, a nine-month old English Mastiff. This thing is close to four feet high at the shoulder and weighs 135 pounds. When she's grown up, she'll be about eight feet tall when she stands on her back feet and weigh 200 pounds. I guess Emma isn't as large a sausage as I thought.
After class, we had to go through all the people who wanted to lavish love on Em (she gobbles this shit up), talk to the staff who think Em is the cutest thing they've ever seen (they have exquisite taste), and make our way out to the car. I told Hubster to drive over to Mom's to see if the thing was there. I wanted to rip her a new one if she was. Unfortunately for her, she was out in front with the kids, so Hubster sort of blocked her car with the truck, and we all piled out. Beast wasn't too pleased to see us, although she did play with Em (Em doesn't know her history, nor does she care; all she knows is that Beast has two hands to pet her with). No sooner had we walked onto the lawn and I handed Em over to Hubster, I launched into a tirade.
Lest you think that I'm a horrible mother and/or person. let me say that Beast has been doing things to us and the rest of the family since she was in high school. She runs off with the first guy she dates; she totaled her brand-new car we bought her for Christmas; she got married to a total loser on the trip where she totaled her car (in Reno - she hit a patch of ice in February and hit a taxi with a cop in it); but worst of all, she has completely neglected her children. She barely gives my mom any money toward their support; she sees them for an hour a day and thinks that's enough; she thinks that Hubster and I should be buying their clothes and anything else they need - in other words, she likes being a mom in name only. I know that I've ranted about her before, but I'm so disgusted that I had to say something.
The face-off didn't go well. It was pretty much the usual bullshit, but after yelling at her for almost an hour, she finally broke down and switched tactics. She wants to sit down with me, mother and daughter together, and just talk without yelling. I told her fine; if she wants to talk, pick up the phone, call us to set aside a day, and come over. I know what will happen. Either she really will call and we'll talk (probably ending up in yelling like we always do), or she said that to shut me up and get away from the problem. I told her in no uncertain terms that this time, I've had it, that she's a horrible mother, that I simply can't believe I spawned a creature like her, and that we'll take her to court to take the kids away from her. I don't really want to do that, because I don't think I have the energy to take care of two rambunctious four-year olds. However, I also can't stand by and see them neglected by her. They have a happy home with mom and grandma, but that isn't going to last much longer. My mother is past 70 and has to have surgery very soon, and my grandma can't walk anymore. We're going to wind up with them one way or the other, and I won't have her using them as pawns against the family. She's self-centered, self-absorbed, selfish, disrespectful, nasty, and doesn't care about anything or anybody except herself - and that includes her children. So what did she do last weekend? She moved out of mom's into a house with three other girls so she could be closer to the boyfriend - and this in a town about 30 minutes away. The child who doesn't have any money to begin with has now taken on another debt which she can't afford. Mom always said she would throw her out, but there's a double-standard at work here. If I had done even half of what Beast has done, I would have been tossed out on my ass. But since Beast is mom's granddaughter, she goes easy on her. I don't think mom has done her any favors. In fact, I think she's made matters worse.
As I said, I've told you about my... my... child (shudder) before, but I'm just so damned mad that I had to rant or I would have exploded. I'm so disappointed, so hurt, so... so... so. I'm truly embarrassed to let people know she's my child. Of course, if you met her, you'd think she was a delightful and well-mannered person. But it's the act she's polished over the years. She's soulless and empty. It's such a waste.
I think I'm going to have a cuppa, work on the shop, and go cry in the corner. Because I couldn't let her see me cry. That would mean she had gotten to me, and that's a mark of victory to her.
It burns a hole in my soul every time this happens, and my soul can't take much more.