Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Children with Wine

3 different dinners.  Within the span of a year, I would guess - but months apart.

Notice the glasses of wine in front of the children - not me, I hated the taste of it.  We were not allowed to have milk.  Or water.  But a glass of cabernet sauvignon was perfectly fine.  I was 6 that first year.  that makes the sisters a few years older each.  so 8, 10, 12.

(also, wallpaper.  jeebus.)

I am so goddamned little in this picture I break my own heart.


  1. Good Lord. That is truly amazing.

    How are you feeling about going through all of the old photos? To be honest, I was a bit curious as to why you wanted to go through them all (I mean besides the fact that you are nice and thoughtful and wanted to help out by scanning them all and felt you should). Closure? To see your childhood through a different lens?
    I have all of my family photos too (NM wanted them OUT of her house a long time ago. NSIS is irresponsible and has no place to keep them anyway, so she gave them to me. I planned on scanning them....some day. Recently, my estranged sister called me an asshole for "keeping them from her" and wanted me to MAIL them (an entire Rubbermaid of heavy old albums) to her. She claims I was keeping her "childhood" from her. Sure. At this point, she can have the damn things. My father, at one point, got all up on his high horse about me "keeping them to myself" too. He hadn't seen the pictures in 20 years and never looked at them when he had the chance. Funny how these things nobody wants suddenly become so priceless when there is some sort of ego involved.

    1. Jessie - Yeah. The photos. I started looking through the first book - where I found these pictures. And I promptly got so depressed I just had to stop.

      It's like a diary of abuse. There are a few I will scan and post, like these, pictures that prove a point or whatever. But I am sending the albums on to another sister.

      I don't need to take a walk back through that hallway of sadness.

    2. It was my first thought when you said you were going to scan (SCAN, my dear, meaning you had to look at and process, every. damn. one.) the whole lot. I thought, whoa, that's might sting a bit. But I'm on the outside, looking in. It's easier to see things from out here.

      But maybe it would help you to process a bit? I think looking through them might be good. Scanning them all would be rough. But, I think that speaks to your character. A good person, willing to do something for a family that has done nothing but hurt her. I'd say God Bless you, but I know that doesn't quit mean the same thing to a lot of us...but the sentiments there and I can't think of a better way to say it.

      I do want to say again that your last few posts have been so helpful to me. You phrased feelings in ways that I was better able to process. Even our talking of "processing" helped process ;). So I want to let you know that out of your pain came some good.

      Ironically, a few days before I went on this trip, my father dropped the shocking news to me that they are (suddenly) selling my grandmother's house and she is moving far away. I'm a bit surprised that she took so ill so fast, although I knew it was coming soon.
      But it still hurt. This is the last little bit of my childhood. A part of my childhood that was the good part. My grandma wasn't perfect, and most likely is a bit more PD than I ever thought (but, good God, BP, NPD, and the like were my "normal". So my grandma, by comparison seemed saintly.) That's something I've had to come to terms with too. Who she may have really been. What kind of mother she might have been. If she was the "maternal powerhouse" I thought she was.
      Anywhoozl, as you would say, I haven't even processed that and then I spent the weekend with NMIL. Phew.
      But I'm trying to decide if I should go help her move, and I've already heard grumblings about who gets what, and my father is SO unsentimental that he's almost an asshole about it. And we had an intense conversation in which I slipped into a nervous little child again.
      But I regained my shit and took on NMIL. With the help of you and all our friends here. So, thanks. Thanks for sharing this hard journey you've been on this week, you've helped me so much.
      Sorry, got a little long winded there.

  2. I wish someone had given me a nice Merlot at that age. I would have yakked chow and never drank a drop after.


  4. Jess it's like my oldest step daughter wanted whatever my youngest step daughter had no matter what it was. If she the younger one came down with chickenpox she would feel slighted if she didn't get sick too.

    1. That's definitely the case with my dad, Q. He's not a narc, but it pissed him off that I thought I had "ownership" of the photos. Ownership, in reality, means I took the damn photos when my mother was trying to get them out like they were the plague. Sure they reminded her of my dad, but our baby pictures were in there. Makes sense now how she could so easily part with them . My dad, at the time, wanted nothing and was being a big child too, declaring he wanted nothing to do with such sentimental crap. He doesn't care for photos and never has. And my sister would've traded them for cash at the time. She couldn't have cared less (and in fact, destroyed a lot of childhood things).
      So, I take the damn things, store them for FIVE YEARS, organize them. And then my dad says he paid for them, so they are his.
      My sister was using the pictures to remind me that I am a selfish asshole, who "stole" the pictures to deprive her of her childhood. Seriously. She told me that outright. Her real intention was to force an interaction with me because I hadn't taken her bait up until that point. I offered to give the pictures to my mother who could then divide them out. My sister told me I was a selfish bitch who was involving my mother when I shouldn't.

  5. NM gave the NGC my childhood pics with orders never to let them out of his sight. What gives with these assholes and pictures? Unless, they took them in the first place so they'd have some kinda warped ammo to use later.

    Booze for kiddies but no milk and they probably thought YOU were weird for not having some!

    BTW First house my DH and I bought had that wallpaper!

  6. Meals were "Ground Zero" for NP BS. Regardless of what they "ordered" you bet your ass you were the Main Course.
    Of course...

    1. Meals were my NF's top choice for narcissistic rages over big stuff like NM forgetting to put the salt and pepper on the table. Absolute #1 would be special occasions dinners like Xmas and birthdays. I'm guessing because unless it was his birthday he wasn't the center of attention.

      We kids were conditioned to keep eating and avoid eye contact. I will never forget seeing my own kid do exactly that when she was about six and he went ape shit about something big like a lump in his mashed potatoes. Hindsight...that's when I should have walked away!