|
My parents have been divorced for nine years. First let me start by saying that I think a divorce is the living proof that people are stupid. It says that they are not marrying the person because of what the big appendage says, but what the little appendage says. Does not the 'til death due us part' count until after a ten year trial run? But back to my story. I just spent 15 minutes listening to my mother tell me how much of a deadbeat my father is. Is that not dehumanizing? For boys, there father is god almighty. But I am not saying that my father is a saint. And this is not the first time she has done it. Far from it. This time though, I snapped. After 15 minutes I yelled at her that that was enough and stormed out. And now I am sitting here at the computer trying to see the keyboard through tear filled eyes. Yes, I am not afraid to admit that I cry. I have cried at the ends of movies, at the ends of books, and when my perceptions of reality come crashing down. On previous occasions of my mother trashing my father, I have been stuck and tried to weather the storm. Sometimes trying to get a word in edge-wise to say that it does not speak highly of her that she is trashing her childrens' father in front of them. This time she tried to pull me into the trashing by saying that because of this-and-this, she wouldn't be able to buy me a car. I felt appalled by the pass. She was trying to get me to sell out my father for something that I barely even care about. I admit that it would be nice to have a car, but I am not fanatical about it. But if he is such a low-life, how is it that we dread the weekends at my mother's house and cannot wait for the weekends at my father's house. Let me rephrase that, because it is not my mother's house, it is Jerry's house. Jerry is my mother's second husband, and she is his third. He is 18 years older than she. He was the school psychologist at Turpin High School when she was attending it. And he is no diamond in the ruff either. He has problems with agression. I have often heard them fighting upstairs in the late hours of the night. On one occasion we lived at a neighbors house for a week. On two separate occasions I have told him to not talk to my mother that way and he responded by asking me if I wanted to fight him. The first time this happened he pulled the large 32 inch tv out of its crevice and ripped my cable out. Which I was then grounded from for a month. And now back to the beggining of this tangent. We enjoy going to our father's house because we do stuff over there. We go to movies and Reds games and all sorts of local festivals. Not every weekend but often. While weekends at my mother's house consist of staying out of sight so you don't get any work detail. That's about it really for I've run out of things to say. |
|
