Blood is thicker than a vanilla milkshake…mmm…milkshake

My family has inserted itself in my life so much in the last few weeks. It’s been weird and off putting.

This, mind you, coming from someone who talks to her mother at least three times a day. Have you seen that Citibank commercial where the guy is all “I’m a dependable guy. I call my mother every week.” I’m like every <em>*week*</em>? And what? You want a cookie? Spend a day in my shoes, mister! No, don’t. You’d stretch out my Liberace sneakers. Also, why are men always coming up to me and asking where they can get my shoes because their “daughter would love them”? Get yer own Liberace sneakers!

Anyway, between my uncle’s wife being murdered (yeah, still not my aunt), my cousin wanting to throw a party for her two year old son that she can’t afford, and my other cousin getting arrested for stabbing her teenage daughter, it’s been a very special Jerry Springer episode in my household lately. The blogging, sleeping and diet/exercise that I was supposed to start two weeks ago, have all suffered horribly.

Interestingly, the state doesn’t allow you to live with your mother once she’s been arrested for stabbing you.  So there was a huge discussion about where my little cousin would live. No one seemed to think foster care was the answer.

My mother ended up taking her in. Unfortunately, my mother, is not known for her ability to pull punches. She told the child, in no uncertain terms, that no one, not even her own mother or grandmother wants anything to do with her. She then added that the only reason she would intervene was because after 30 years of working in the lady-wing of a hospital she knows the horrible things that can happen to teenage girls in foster homes. And then she finished with underlining that she’s an old lady who has already raised her own pain in the ass child and will not hesitate to turn her over to child services if she causes any stress or is any kind of problem.

Personally, I thought this was a bit harsh.

“That’s life. This is where she has gotten herself and she needs to know it.”

“No, I mean calling me a pain in the ass. I am standing RIGHT HERE WOMAN!”

Truth be told, I did feel badly for the kid. As crappy as much of my childhood was, I always had my mother and a room of my own. I can’t imagine not only being alone in the world, but having your only family tell you you’re unwanted.

Of course, not 48 hours later this chick stays out until 1 in the morning at “a friend’s house.”

After a conversation, the sum of which went something like… “if you want to stay out all night with ‘friends,’ you can go live with them.”  A problem, by the way, that I steered clear of as a teenager by avoiding having friends altogether! You say anti-social, I say genius!

Sigh. I’m pretty sure my mom’s gonna end up stabbing her. I’m kidding. Totally kidding.


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9 Responses to Blood is thicker than a vanilla milkshake…mmm…milkshake

  1. Redx says:

    I thought the Liberace shoes ended up in the trash on your midwest adventure…..?
    Cool new space here. I’ve been reading your blog(s) for a long time. Keep it up.

  2. Stephane says:

    I bought new ones on ebay before my trip, the other ones were on their last soles. And thanks!

  3. Petitedov says:

    Um, wow. I don’t even know what to say. Hope things settle down soon.

    I talk to my mother every single day, several times. It’s not always by choice, but appreciate it enough. Week! #pshaw

  4. Stephane says:

    Oh…dude “choice” has nothing to do with it! 🙂 I hate that stupid “every week” commercial. I want to tag him in embarrassing photos too.

  5. Mary says:

    If I talked to my mom more than once a week, I would absolutely go crazy and probably kill a lot of people.

    I’ve heard your conversations with your mom before and they tend to last less than a minute – I guess your multiple calls probably add up to my one weekly call length.

  6. KenP says:

    If it is a decent milkshake it is thicker than blood — unless you let it sit around and melt. I don’t see that as a possibility for either of us. I’d also say the shake is obviously tastier — unless you have unusual canines.

    I too was wondering about the crap covered Liberaces. I’ll be able to sleep tonight with that cleared up.

    We all love our family. But the like part is mixed and varied. Possibly your not being stabbed by your mother is an indication of remarkable restraint. It is that way with mine. That women was a saint. You ever try to live with a saint?

  7. Stephane says:

    Who said my mother didn’t stab me? O_O

  8. Tae says:

    I simply can’t blame anyone for stabbing a teenager.

  9. Stephane says:

    LOL. You owe me 3 ounces of cherry pepsi!

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