Today my family ate at the dinner table per my mom’s request.
Shocker! Right? No? Okay.
Let me explain:
As a kid, I was raised by my grandma and my single mother. Every night we would eat dinner with my grandma’s current husband also. It was a very small house, but the amount of land my family owned on the property partially made up for it. Until my mother got married to my current stepdad, I shared a bedroom with my mom. A 10 x 10 room with a teenager isn’t a good situation to be in on either side of the problem. We weren’t the typical American family, but really who is?
Whenever we moved into my stepdad’s house I got my own room. This was one of the only perks provided to me in dealing with living with him for the past 3 years. Since we moved into the house my mom has this visual of the American dream. Let me tell you from my own experience, it doesn’t last very long. My mom hasn’t had a job in around 7 years, so her first resort was to be a homemaker. In no way am I criticizing that, though. She does more daily than I could ever do. Her second step into this American dream ideal was to generally become the perfect housewife. That’s when I realized she went a bit mental.
Skipping forward to Sunday, my step-grandmother’s birthday:
My mom suggested we sit at the table like we usually do for big holidays or birthday parties. I understand why she wanted to do this, and I was completely fine with it. That is, until I realized I’d have to socialize with a couple of members of my step-family. My step-grandma is a very religious woman. She’s a holiness pentecostal woman, and if that doesn’t tell you enough about her then I don’t know what will. (If you’ve never heard of the denomination of the Christian faith, let me explain: she believes that women shouldn’t cut thier hair, wear pants, or wear makeup. She believes in speaking in foreign tongues and the holy ghost. Lastly, and most irritating of all in my opinion, she thinks that wives should submit to their husbands.)
She soon began to drone on and on about how a woman experienced a medical miracle, and how the son of a bitch (in my own words) doctor became a holy vessel of God and began praising His name.
All the while this was going on, my stepdad was existing. I can’t tell you how much I despise him, honestly. On a side note, just to explain how douchey he is, he just sat there while my mom struggled in picking up a humongous weed-eater. Keep in mind that my mom has shoulder problems and could have inflamed it worse.
Maybe this isn’t the American dream she thought she was getting into after all.