A Comment Worth Posting

Last night, my mom responded to my other blog post. After sleeping on it, I decided that yes I am going to post, because if I can’t allow the readers to see the full side of the story and allow my mother to get her say then I’m not much of a blogger. Even though yes, it paints us, both she and I in a pretty shitty color of WTF is going on.

There is a reason I blog the way I do. I blog as my mind thinks, it just so happens that I blog in paragraphs. I also blog the way I do to flesh out without giving a complete insight to my entire life. This is the internet, there’s enough dirty laundry on here and I don’t need to add to it.

I read you blog…I’m sorry that you are going through this and you feel alone. However, I will not be portrayed as the “mother who deserted you” like you put. Although not entirely accurate, some points are. You, however, neglected to state the whole issue between you and I. Let’s start with the text you sent me which initiated the entire conversation…”Momma, I don’t feel like calling, but Happy New Year, Zach and I broke up.” The very first part, set the standard for the conversation…starts as a negative and does not, in any way establish, you wanting/needing your mother’s shoulder to cry on.

Firstly I would like to point at at the time I sent this text message I was already on the verge of tears and was trying to be brave and strong. I failed here. I sent a text message because of the fact I felt the need to let my mom know. Okay so I failed at conversational skills as well. I should have called and told her. I’ve never been great at talking on the phone especially when my emotions are sky high. It was the latter part that should have told you I needed my mom.

Secondly, when I was bringing your attention to the correct matter of your lifes events and matters with Christopher…you then said “I called you because I needed my mom”; I corrected you again and said that I called you, you didn’t call me….see text message above. Then proceeded to tell me that if I was going to throw up in your face everything you did, then you didn’t want to talk to me (your exact words).

Yep, you did correct me. So what if my wording was off, my mistake, again emotions were high, by this point I was crying and things were coherent in my head. As for everything being thrown in my face, that’s exactly what you did. You asked me why I broke up with Zach, then when I told you, you threw in my face that it was me who walked out my marriage. I admitted that. I have my reasons and I don’t need to explain them to anyone. After that you proceeded to tell ask me about my sleeping arrangements. Then when you found out Zach wasn’t moving out, and TJ was living over at his friends, you then asked me what TJ was doing for a job and what my father thought about all of this. It was at this point, I told you I didn’t want to speak to you if you were going to throw things in my face.

I didn’t want you to sit there tell me what was wrong with my life, I want you tell me that I would be okay, that I’m strong, that I’ve got Mitchell blood and I would survive. YOU DIDN’T DO THIS.

I’ve always been fair with you and you’re brother…when you misquote something that I directly know about, I’ve always called you both on it…neither of you like it and thus we have the current situation between you and I. I called a spade a spade and you didn’t like what you heard. You even went as far as showing the nasty text that I sent to you, to your father, but neglected to tell him exactly what prompted my text to you. Which prompted him to call me, essentially you tried to “get me in trouble with dad”. I spoke to him and as a result, I understand he spoke to you about it too.

Yep, fair you have been, always. It had nothing to do with misquoting . In fact that didn’t even bother me. And yeah I did show my father the nasty text you sent me. Also notice I didn’t show the world. Dad did speak to me about it, however, I was still very angry so I wasn’t hearing any of it.

You can be hurt, you can be angry with me, with life, with whatever, I’m not going to take that away from you and have never tried…but before you can heal the right and proper way, you have to reflect on the situation and be completely honest with yourself and others. You dealt the first blow, which stemmed a lot of emotion coming from hurt from me. You cannot take that away from me. I didn’t prompt it nor did I want this to happen between us.

Like you, I have to defend my hurt as well. Nothing in my text was untrue…..it could have been said many different ways, but none of it is untrue….think about ALL the promises of phone calls and drawings….speaking of why you don’t call me “because you get voice mail because I was dating a less than desireable man….here I go again….poor excuse, I haven’t been with him in over a year now…and you promised me a phone call every tuesday at 6 (for which I’m home most of the time) and to call grams every wednesday. Tuesday 6 p.m. call happend once or twice…then there were a few calls at 10 or 10:30, in which I told you I’m in bed at that time because I have to get up at 5 a.m….then we got the phone call at 8 or 9 on a night I happened to be sick and sleeping and you told me “sorry but I had to work so I’m calling now”. Told you I was in bed and sleeping, and have not gotten a phone call on a tuesday since.

I believe I said in the previous blog that I should call more. But there have been times, even after you weren’t with Mr. Undesirable, that I was push on the back burner. However I wasn’t talking about these times, I was talking about the almost two years that I nearly forgot I had a mother because when I called at whatever time I would, I got voicemail. I used to call your phone sometimes knowing I was going to get voicemail just to hear your voice. You can’t even tell me that while you were Mr. Undesirable, that you were in anyway shape or form allowed to have any contact with your child in Indiana, your mother, and half the time your son, who lived with you. That is why I stopped calling in general.

I’m also sorry but I don’t feel a daughter should ever have to pick a time to have a conversation with her mother. I get “penciled” in for a 6 pm phone call once a week. How often do you speak to Grams? Last I heard, every day at lunch time. You call her every single day at least to my knowledge. So why can’t I call my mom every single day?

I predominantly call you when I want to talk to you or the baby, mostly on my drive home from work…if I get you, I get to talk to you. If I get voicemail, I leave a message, in which it could be 2 or 3 days before I get a call back. Not to mention you cell voicemail message is insulting and the home voicemail “cancelled my recording”….go figure. Bottom line, if you’re gonna tell the story….be completely honest and tell the whole story.

You call me once in a while.  If you want to call to talk to me and get a hold of me call the cell phone. Recently acquired, but still I answer that more than I will ever answer my house phone. As for my voicemail, which I’d like to add, you only got once; it was a joke between a friend and me. Someone who used to send me to voicemail just to get rise out of me. You are the only person who got bent out of shape over my voicemail. Dad thought it was funny because he’ll call me at 6:45 and know full well I’m sleeping, but knows I have to get up. Doesn’t mean I’m going to be willing. Doesn’t mean I’m going to answer. Get over it. It’s a voicemail not a personal insult to you. Just leave a message and I will eventually call you back. Sheesh.

You can delete this if you want….but those that know you and me and the history between us, know the real truth….I can also blog this myself, but either way, you brought it out and in an unfair manner to me. If I’m going to wear the black hat of the “bad guy”, at least make it justifiable.

As I stated previously, it would be unfair not to let you have your say in matters between us. I didn’t go into extreme details of what happened with our phone conversation. But I think between the two of us, we covered everything there for the fifteen minute conversation that ended hatefully.

We’ll get past this, we always do. We’ve had worse than this. My mom is honestly my best friend ever. But like all friends, we fight, ours just go to a more personal level. It what happens when the daughter is too much like the mother.

Keep it real and rockin’

 

The Epic Adventure to Save My Dad

Let it begin!

It all started last night, it was a cool and breezy night. I had just got off work and was relaxing in front of my favorite toy, the computer. I was doing my usual thing, checking emails, the lols, and getting ready to play City of Heroes with Tim and Mort. When all of a sudden boyfriend told me that Dad’s truck broke down.

Well crud.

Now my dad was stranded somewhere in Pennsylvania with no money and no way home. Not even two seconds later my telephone rang. Dad’s ears must’ve been ringing because it was him on the other end. I answered “Hello, where are you?” He replied with “Hello, State College.”

Okay so he was some place I was familiar with, but not that familiar. He promised me he was safe and tucked in for the night. He must’ve been lonely because he kept me on the phone for a good twenty minutes letting me know what happened and where exactly he was. Finally he was tired enough to pass out and we said good night.

This morning, I get up at 5:15am to let LGIB in the door so her mom can get to work. Back to sleep I go once I get her settled in. Then at 6:30 my alarm clock goes off telling me it’s time to get up and moving so I can get Rhys on his bus and LGIB on hers. So I slap the snooze button.

Twenty minutes later the phone rings, blinded by the light of the phone I answer groggily “Hello?” It’s dad on the line “Gooooood morning.” I can only grunt at this point, mentally thinking to myself, the sun isn’t up yet and you are telling me good morning.

“Is your computer fired up?”
“No, I’m not even awake yet?”
“Okay, I need you to…”
“Wait dad, lemme get out of bed first and get the computer started up before you list me off things to do. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
“Alright, bye”

So I rolled out of bed, begrudgingly I might add and started my day. I got Boyfriend up and made his coffee, pulled Rhys from his sleep and got him in the bathroom and started up my computer. While the coffee was doing its thing and my computer doing its. I got my son ready for school. Socks, pants, shirt and shoes. By this time it’s 7:10am, so we go outside and wait for his bus. I send the kidlet off to school and go back upstairs to call dad. Still groggy and missing the warmth of my bed, I open up my firefox.

“I need you to go to Chase and tell me how much is in there.”
“‘kay.” *yawn*

Last night I had told him there was nothing new to the account and he told me his check should be in this morning. Me not remembering this at that time was expecting to see x amount of dollars again and hear “Aww what the piss” from dad.

I logged into his account and seen there was more than last night. I told him this and this is where the epic adventure to save my dad begins truly.

“I need you to go to bank and then to walmart and wire me some money.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Zach has the car and is at work. He won’t be home until 4ish.”
“Dammit there goes that plan.”
“Is there a Wal-mart near by?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alright lemme check.”

So I go to walmart.com and use the store locater and find there is one just down the road a piece from where he was sitting at. I tell him it’s 3 miles away and if he could get a ride I’ll figure out a way to get to walmart.

“What about what’s her name?”
“Donnella?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh lemme call her and see if she has the van.”

Once again we hang up and I call Donnella, turns out her boyfriend has the van and won’t be home until lunch time. Crap on a stick. So then it clicks, oh yeah there’s a bus and it goes to walmart! So I let her know I’ll take the bus and talk to her later.

I call dad back and tell him it was a no go with Donnella and explain my clever plan to ride the bus to wal-mart. Which I could easily have walked, but they’re lacking sidewalks in this city, at least down this end of town. I get dad to activate the debit cards so I can use it to send him some cash. Yes that’s right, the debit cards are here. He was already on the road when they came in. So he got them activated, and called me back. He informed me that they are bussing him home via greyhound and I’ll just have to pick him up in Indy.

Great. I hate Indy.

Anyways, we get the cards sorted and I get dressed, pull my hair back and out the door I go. I stand at the bus stop and wait and wait, and wait some more. I’ve ridden buses before. Everything I needed to get to was within a bus route as I was growing up in Philly. Two other passengers show up, I’ll call them the mumblers, because any time they spoke it was mumbles. And man did the mumblers stink. The wind was blowing west to east and I was standing downwind of body odor. Gag. Finally the bus shows up and I get on. The bus driver didn’t recognize me and asked me if I needed a transfer. I told him no and took a seat at the front of the bus since I wasn’t going to on long.

I asked the driver if there was another stop on the front side of Wal-mart he said yes and let me off there. I kid you not when I say I paid a buck to ride 4 minutes down the road to Wal-mart.

I went to the money center and filled out all the boxes so I could send my dad his money. After waiting for the woman to not be distracted enough, and send the right amount, we were good. Then I had to hunt up a pay phone because I don’t own a cell phone that actually has minutes on it and call him with the information. Finally we get that squared away and I go back into wal-mart to break a ten so I could take the bus back. I kid you not when I say I’m too lazy to walk the whole mile back to my house.

Standing at the bus stop, there was a gentleman who was kind enough to tell me the time and that the bus should be here soon. We joked about how I would save a buck just by walking home. We chit-chatted about our families and how hard the economy was being. Then we fell silent, awkwardly and I put my nose in a magazine I bought. The bus shows up about ten minutes late. I grew up in the city and never take actual times for what they are and consider them approximate times. I sit on the front again and take my four minute ride home.

The bus driver was nice enough to tell me not to walk in front of the bus and wait for it to pass, that there had been numerous people hit by cars that went around. So I stepped off and waited for it to move, thanking the bus driver for the lift as I was taught to do. You’d be surprised how much better their day is when people say thanks for the ride.

Once the bus passed, there were several cars waiting to go. The woman in the car just behind the bus saw me get off and waved me across the street. It’s people like that make me happy I live in Bloomington. Surprisingly enough, this town still impresses me with the amount of polite people it has.

Finally I walked in the door to await a phone call from my dad telling me he got the money.

I just received said phone call, he’s got his money, and he’s on his way to the bus depot to come home. I pick him up at 3 am in Indianapolis.

Keep it real and rockin’

❤