Vodka, Pills, and a Guardian Angel

Like I ended my last post, mom wasn't like other moms. My step-dad had no clue what he had gotten himself into. As for my real dad, it felt like an eternity when I got to see him again.

My mom made sure that our step-dad would become the father that I knew. Speaking of my real one became a taboo.

It didn't help that I resembled my dad and my sister missed him horribly. My step-dad did his best to fill his shoes. He really was wonderful to my sister and I.

He was the rock in our lives when our mom would go into her dark times.This happened   frequently. 

She would sleep a lot and keep every curtain in the house closed. She would cry and nothing would make her happy. Not even my step-dad. But he was patient.

This crazy part of her would last for weeks on end. Being a little girl it felt like an infinity. As I got older, I would stay home from school and take care of her. I even learned by the time was 8 to scramble eggs, make a mean grilled cheese, and how to heat up a can of Campbell's soup.

My step-dad was the best. He wore a badge of patience. And many times he came home at the right time. He was clearly our guardian angel.

"What are you doing?" My step-dad shook her one evening.

Mom just stared blankly ahead.

A booze bottle and some pills occupied the kitchen counter. Mom had been sitting on a stool staring into space for what seemed like hours. My 3 year-old sister and I tried many times to get her attention. But it was of no use. Our snack time didn't happen that day.

 My step-dad grabbed the booze bottle and the pills. He dumped the bottle and threw the pills away. After, he walked mom to their room and tucked her into bed. 

That night, my sister, step-dad, and I feasted at the Golden Arches.

To be continued...

Getting All Pretty for Thanksgiving

Good morning, nice people! 

As you can see, I'm stuck in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture. I don't understand why Mummsy even bothers anymore. I'm old and don't really care how I look or smell anymore. It would be nice if I could just sleep and eat. That's it! That's all I need.

If I were you, I'd stop complaining. Be thankful you're still with us. Besides, Grandpa is coming for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. We have to be at our best. Maybe if you didn't whiz and poo all over yourself, you wouldn't need tortured.

Hmmf! As always your stupid, stupid. Why can't you just agree with me for once!

Stop whining, pansy-boy! People don't like complainers. Count your blessings and help me wish all the nice people a Happy Thanksgiving.

We love your visits, the treats, and the belly rubs you all give!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lots of Licks and belly rubs!

Sir Poops and Hair Ball

Severed

People were yelling at each other in my kitchen. It sounded like mom and dad. So I dropped the doll that I was playing with, toddled out of my bedroom, and down the wooden staircase.

Their voices grew louder and angrier as I passed through the creme and turquoise colors of the living room.

I stopped dead in my tracks, shocked, and feeling helpless. A four-year-old can't protect themselves let a grown man like my dad.

Mom stood to the right of me, baring a pointed knife. Dad was to my left, arms spread wide, palms up. He was far enough away not to get stabbed.

I don't remember saying anything to either one of them. But they both went silent and both glanced down at me.

Mom dropped her weapon. 

It wasn't long after this event that my sister, mom, and I were on a plane to Florida.

Years later, my dad explained that the incident was over her obsession to strip and wax the floors throughout their house every other day, including the wooden staircase. Everyone in the house had slipped and hurt themselves on the later. 

He just couldn't deal with her obsessions anymore, the violence, or her wacky stories.

Mom wasn't like other moms or wives. I learned that early on.

To be continued...

Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

"A little white lie never hurt anyone." That was a line I heard most of my life from my mom. Her little white lies had a tendency to turn into whoppers.

After Christmas, birthdays, or major purchases, you could find her in any customer service line. Her favorite store was Wal Mart. At one time, they took any merchandise without a receipt and gave a cash refund. It was definitely a money making venture for her. And a rather embarrassing one for me.

To this day, I still remember the store clerk at Wal Mart telling her, "Sorry ma'am, but we have never carried this item in our store." The guy even cocked his brow at her and ended the conversation with, "Ever."

"But I just bought it from here."

"Where's you're receipt?"

"I must've thrown it away," she'd say.

"Sorry, ma'am. No receipt. No refund." The guy ran his scanner over the item. "And once again, we've never carried this item."

"Are you calling me a liar?!"

I waited for the guy to whip out a big bar of Dial soap or Tobbasco Sauce. Something she gave my sister, brother, and I when we told big ones or said a really bad word.

I really believe she's the reason why most stores give you a refund on a gift card nowadays.

More to come next week...

Personal Stuff

I thought I'd start a series of sorts on this blog about what it was like for me growing up. So...yeah, I'll be talking about my family. Some are real wonky.

The plan is to post these by Thursday or Friday each week. But then again, my schedule is crazy.

My first post will be about my mom. What she was like and what my sibs and I endured.

My thoughts on posting some personal stuff will be in hopes to inspire or help others. And how the people in a writer's life may affect our stories.

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend! I'll be with the Glowstick and visiting my Little-Pizza-Party-Boy having some fun. Love being a grandmother!

Hugs and chocolate!

Shelly

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: ISWG: Surviving the Mummsy Pandemic

I

Hey, nice people. It's me Hair Ball. I think Mummsy has lost her mind. She's been going nuts trying on special suits and funny looking masks-and not the Halloween kind.

Right now, she's pretty upset that there are no more special suits for me and my brother on Amazon. So she's fitting me into this black contraption just in case. I. HATE. IT!

Ever since Ebola touched land in the United States she's been stockpiling things, too.

She says she can't imagine her life without the following, if things go to a full blown pandemic:

Pens and pencils

Tablets

Books

Chocolate

Popcorn

Corn Chips

Tea bags

Water

Batteries

Candles

Vitamin C

Post-It Notes

Fur-peep treats and food

Food for her and Daddy-o

And I can't forget Sir Poops's diapers. It wouldn't be a good thing without them. I personally wouldn't want to be stuck in the house with poo piles. He's not known as Sir Poops for nothing. His name rings true, especially now that he's sick and old.

So I hope everyone is prepared for whatever could happen. I think all of our writer friends would go crazy without writerly things. I know Mummsy would.

This post was written on behalf of Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Group, with intentions to help and encourage. Not to scare anyone. Just saying.

Lots of licks and belly rubs,

Hair Ball and Sir Poops