So much anger!
This is going to be a big old bitch and moan about family. Feel free to ignore this...
I sometimes wonder about my paternal grandfather. He died when I was about 2 1/2, so the only memories I have are very, VERY vague. I actually have quite a few memories of after he died - I remember going to the cemetery, asking Grandma and Aunt Rachel not to cry so much this time. But seriously. My Dad has some anger issues - he wasn't abusive, but holy SHIT could he get angry. I've seen the same thing in my Aunt, who has a whole herd of kids that she's adopted and often has a foster child thrown in from time to time. Was he an angry guy? Grandma could be catty, but I very rarely ever saw her angry.
Back to my Aunt. There's a birthday party at her house about every other month. It usually seems like more. A lot more. Anyway, we reported for duty at a party Sunday. There was one foster child there, a young black boy - about 5 - named Jamal. My Mom's parents were there, which is always fun...in a good way. Dad & Phyllis showed up right as Mac & I did. Kat was there - she seems to be doing well...staying on her meds and such. Ugh. My sister, whom I count on for a spark of sanity during these events, was at a Girl Scout party. Lucky devil.
Mac and I sit on the couch with my Grandparents and chat for a while. My Aunt and Dad find the need to share the story behind Jamal's unfortunate induction into the foster care system. We're regaled with a tale that begins with, "His Momma is in jail." I'll sum up from there. His father was pulled over for a routine traffic stop. He had drugs in the car, and rather than be caught with them, he decides to eat them. He starts to wig out as the drugs kick in and runs away from the cops. He runs into the woods, and they can't find him...till a week later. He ran into the woods and fell in a pond, where he drowned, immediately. There's a nice, cheery story to share at a 6 year old's birthday party, no?
So the pizza came in (via Kat) and everyone sat down to eat dinner. At 3PM. But I digress. I drank a Diet Coke while Mac obliterated some pizza. Awkward conversation, with interruptions by the children acting up. Then the cake...my Aunt put the cake on the table - in front of ALL of the young kids - and when Jamal tried to blow out the candles, she blew her top. "It's NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!" Holy crap. There was more, but I'm not going to put it here.
Mac and I left shortly after that. We had to go to my MIL's house. I was very grateful. Ugh. Family.
I sometimes wonder about my paternal grandfather. He died when I was about 2 1/2, so the only memories I have are very, VERY vague. I actually have quite a few memories of after he died - I remember going to the cemetery, asking Grandma and Aunt Rachel not to cry so much this time. But seriously. My Dad has some anger issues - he wasn't abusive, but holy SHIT could he get angry. I've seen the same thing in my Aunt, who has a whole herd of kids that she's adopted and often has a foster child thrown in from time to time. Was he an angry guy? Grandma could be catty, but I very rarely ever saw her angry.
Back to my Aunt. There's a birthday party at her house about every other month. It usually seems like more. A lot more. Anyway, we reported for duty at a party Sunday. There was one foster child there, a young black boy - about 5 - named Jamal. My Mom's parents were there, which is always fun...in a good way. Dad & Phyllis showed up right as Mac & I did. Kat was there - she seems to be doing well...staying on her meds and such. Ugh. My sister, whom I count on for a spark of sanity during these events, was at a Girl Scout party. Lucky devil.
Mac and I sit on the couch with my Grandparents and chat for a while. My Aunt and Dad find the need to share the story behind Jamal's unfortunate induction into the foster care system. We're regaled with a tale that begins with, "His Momma is in jail." I'll sum up from there. His father was pulled over for a routine traffic stop. He had drugs in the car, and rather than be caught with them, he decides to eat them. He starts to wig out as the drugs kick in and runs away from the cops. He runs into the woods, and they can't find him...till a week later. He ran into the woods and fell in a pond, where he drowned, immediately. There's a nice, cheery story to share at a 6 year old's birthday party, no?
So the pizza came in (via Kat) and everyone sat down to eat dinner. At 3PM. But I digress. I drank a Diet Coke while Mac obliterated some pizza. Awkward conversation, with interruptions by the children acting up. Then the cake...my Aunt put the cake on the table - in front of ALL of the young kids - and when Jamal tried to blow out the candles, she blew her top. "It's NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!" Holy crap. There was more, but I'm not going to put it here.
Mac and I left shortly after that. We had to go to my MIL's house. I was very grateful. Ugh. Family.