BLENDED FAMILIES
I
am from a Blended family. At fourteen, the youngest of three children, my mom
re-married and I shared a middle child spot of 8 children with only one blood
sister, while my oldest brother was in Vietnam. I had a new sister and four new brothers, and
a man who wanted me to think of him as Dad.
My sister adapted better than me to him. We were NO Brady Bunch.
Blended
is such a strange word to me. At the time I was in this home, I was never so
lonely. My mom thought it would be a good idea for the older girls to room
together and me to have my own room. I wanted to share a room. You readers may think I was lucky. No I
didn’t think so, I was lonely. My father had only been dead a year and
the new sister was really cool. And my mom wouldn’t let any of us girls borrow
each other’s clothes. Still sound like fun?
The
oldest boy had his own room WAY down the other end of the house because he used
to be my boyfriend. The other three boys got to room together. Does that make
sense? So the “parents” sit me and the boyfriend down and say, “You two are no
longer dating! AND you are forbidding going into each other’s rooms!” Great!
Now I can’t do that either. Can I go into the kitchen? AND to top off that. If
we come in late after a certain time she locks us out. Such fun. “Hey
mom, you just lock me and the old boyfriend outside alone together!”
There
was also a lot of fighting about religion, they were Catholic and we were not.
My mom would go to church with them after she would drop me and my sister off
at our local church. That sucked. We were not allowed to go to the Catholic
one. My sister and I had to go to work
as soon as we could but our oldest sister got to go to college. She also got a
beautiful Mustang, yellow with black stripes. She was generous with it. She
would take us all to the beach in it. It was a tight fit and many times a wonderful escape.
There
wasn’t much fun in the house except when the “parents” went out. We would
take out the board games and play loud music. The older ones would go out with their cars and
leave me alone with the three youngest.
That happened a lot. One night I left and they were all
waiting for me when I got home chastising me about my "reputation". I was like, “Seriously? You all
do this every weekend." My guess is they
wanted a babysitter. Nitwits. How impish they were in their imaginary concern about my status in the local community.
I
will say Christmas’s were fun. That’s all I got. Needless to say everyone got pregnant or got
their girlfriends pregnant swiftly to escape the merger. Not me, I was the
brave one, I just left.
Let
me explain. Back in the 60’s a young woman doesn’t move out on her own. That
makes her a harlot according to my “parents”.
I was supposed to stay living at home and coming in before midnight and
going to church on Sunday forever until some man came by and purposed marriage
to me. Okay….but what if I don’t want to
get married at 18? “What do you think you can do in your own place that you
can’t do here?” Oh… that was such a loaded question. So after being stifled for
four years by this “parent” I just
opened up and said, “Well, I won’t have to listen to this.”
Now
okay I know what you are thinking, but I dead-on swear, I said it with kindness
and kindness did not come back. He was so fricking pissed. It was beautiful. It
was like the roof came off the house. Snap!
I had studied for a few months on how I was going to afford an apartment
and I was ready. I had talked to a mentor and looked into my finances and I had
a job, my car was paid for. Everything was good. I kept thinking, “Where is my
mom? I don’t even know this dude.” Every
time something significant happened, I had to go to him. And at 16, I was told to go get a JOB!
At 19 I moved out and I never looked back.
My
step-brothers did help me move and in about 3-4 months my “parents” knocked
down my old bedroom and made the kitchen bigger. Big surprise. So I did stay as close as possible with one
of my brothers, the middle child. He was away from home a lot. He went away to
school. Lucky shit. The others as time
went on got married and the wife’s had lots of babies and I really did not have
that much in common with. Except for the oldest one. I stayed friendly with the old boyfriend’s new
girlfriend and wife. I still really love her. She is amazing. When I say boyfriend, we were just kids. We
went to a movie, a hayride, hung out a few times. It was really innocent. Father
“parent” was at the movie with us. “Shiver” Nothing like what he had with his
next girl. MY GOD, he could not keep his
hands off her. I would have slapped that horny boy!
Back
to the Blended thing. My opinion to all divorced people out there with
children is to stay single until your children are grown and out of the house. It will not work well. You may think it is because your children say
they are okay but inside we aren’t. I
don’t see anything good about this Blended option. I have lived it and it sucks. No mother or
father loves someone else’s child more than their own. When push comes to shove
blood is thicker than water. My “parents” were always fighter about us. What a
show! I use to run away. In the area
where the serial killer Michael Ross lived and hid one of the bodies. I hated
seeing them fight. I hated the yelling.
One
time my mother yelled and threw a knife across the kitchen and at the same time
threw my step sister down on the floor. What a day that was! Shit, get out the popcorn. It was because of all their pent up anger. We
were not allowed to talk about what was bothering us and I was sent to my room
for saying I wanted my father who was dead.
Also for my Blends, they as well could not talk about their mom.
Also
when you Blend you must become part of the other Blends family. I call this
Step-Blending. What truly sucks about
this is after you become an adult and have a family of your own and one of the
“parents” dies, they forget you. They go out to eat and invite everyone but
you. They have huge get together and they say, “We told someone to tell you.”
You are not important enough to get a phone call. And when the other “parent”
dies, you sit in the back. I didn’t
care. My sister did.
I
could have been closer to my “parent” if I chose to let him run my life, kiss
me while his tongue tried to push into my mouth. When I finally told him to
piss off he got so angry he doubles my rent in the house I was renting from
him. Now here’s the kicker. The fucker
had my mother give me the letter. And when I say double I mean double. He was starting to freak me out. One night
when I was sleeping he comes into the house. Dead of night walks in with my
mom; I got up and my mom is sitting on
my couch so I say to my mom, “Some people have a lot of fucking nerve.” She was
offended by my language. I said, “Mom,
it is pitch black and you are IN MY HOUSE.”
My mom says, ‘ He needed to check
the furnace.” So, I had a boyfriend
move in with me and then we moved in with my sister.
So
because of this bull, I did the same thing. I should have stay alone until my
son was out of school and on his own. But I did not and it caused a lot of
grief as well. Why do men feel the need to knock down and be mean to someone
else son like a male lion that kills all the cubs sired by the previous leader
of his pride? And what about our daughters? When they become a woman what makes
a man think she part of his pack. Let me tell you. She isn’t. Step back!
If
I could do my life all over again I would never Blend my family. I do forgive
my mom. We all need to move on. I just need to vent.
“No human beings were intended to be hurt in this
verbiage"
02/06/2015
