“Something, like, just got me!”
Rough. Rural life is. Distracted as hell by Mat’s weird choice of night music, but working my way through another tide of writerly non-flow by attempting to coax him into creating some sort of delectable dessert & penning each and every thought, come what may. Already there are strawberries on the range, steam rising from the pan.
A couple years back, Mat’s kid Oliver flew the coop–back to his mother’s arms and hundreds of miles away from my alleged horrendous step-motherliness. I lost a stepson & his dog Zelda. I wasn’t sure who I missed more. Zelda never called me a phony.
This past spring, just weeks before the end of Oliver’s junior year, his mom pushed him back out of her nest. No comprehensible flying instructions, no last tuck of love under her histrionic wing.
Plenty of accusations flew on the wind. Was Oliver truly acting as erratically as the loathsome subject in his mother’s wild tales of cunning deceit? Given her track record for false accusations, her opinions were taken about as seriously as Trump’s latest fallacious conspiracy theories. We laughed at them AND they made us sad.
After an eerily cold departure from his mother, Oliver was relieved to return home. We welcomed him with open arms and zero accusations.
Now, thanks to one truly madly deeply narcissistic mother, I’m here to shield Oliver from her counterintuitive quest to pin him down with shame coated daggers. Thanks to her, I get to be a stepmom again to someone who once thought of me as the lame ass monster (but now knows better).
Maybe now that delusional self-centric ex-wife energy will threaten to permeate the wind and disturb all peace at all times, wherever she may roam. Because it’s totally normal to read your ex-husband’s new wife’s blog and reply in the tone of a demented finger wagging stalker, amiright?