My Dramily - Part V - The Party

Maybe this should have been my first post. Lead with the positives, and all that. 

The whole reason for going to Georgia this past week, as I've said, was for a celebration of my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. My sisters, no. 1 and no. 2 have been working hard for the past several months to make everything perfect. Sister no. 6 and I have done quite a bit too, just not so much. We functioned more as grunts than anything else. 

My biggest job was to create a slide show of pictures from over the past 5+ decades. If you're extraordinarily bored you can see the silent beta version on YouTube. I think the final version turned out pretty well. At least I got positive feedback. No. 1 was in charge of the cake, invitations, and decorations. The room was gorgeous. As was the cake (a slight lean aside). No 2. (an extreme foodie and inveterate drama queen) did the rest of the food. She was prepared for about a small bazillion people. And all the copious food was delicious, even if we weren't able to eat half of it. Sister no. 6 helped everything run like clockwork (even if she and I preferred to stay mostly in the background). Our brother, no. 3 came as a guest rather than helping or even paying his share of the costs (He has some kind of juvenile sibling rivalry thing going on).

Quite a few people showed up. So many that the building's air conditioning was strained to battle the Georgia heat. We held the event at the church where my parents were married, in the same "fellowship hall" where they had their wedding reception. 

It was a little bit like being haunted by the ghosts of my childhood. Most of the people there knew me by my childhood nickname, so I ended up responding to anything people called me, including my brother's name. Many of the attendees looked vaguely familiar, older versions of people I used to know well. I had to fight the defensive mode some of those familiar faces put me in. I don't know how much those people know about me these days, so I found myself playing the pronoun and dodge the question with vagueness games. "Oh yes, I do live in Spain... I just... love it there." 

A few rare exemptions included my siblings and in-laws. I knew they knew I was gay, so I could be myself. It was nice hanging out with no. 2's husband. He's a nice, fairly open minded guy (and a hell of a better person than her ex). We spent a good bit of time in the kitchen getting food ready, bantering with innuendos that often left visitors to the kitchen bewildered. "How do you take your fruit?" "I usually give him a back massage first."

Also there was a minister who has performed the weddings of several members of my family and now presides over a church in Atlanta where many LGBT folks worship. He has talked to my mom about me. He pulled me aside at one point and we talked about how great my parents have been. It's easy to forget in all that closeted hell I went through when I was younger that when I did finally come out, my parents were spectacular. They're pretty much rural southerners with some backwards ideas about things like race, gender, and sexuality. It's just how they were raised. But when I came out, they decided to be supportive rather than losing me. Frankly I was amazed at the time. As I told the preacher, I fully expected to never see my family again. But instead they were accepting and told the rest of the family that if they couldn't be nice, they were welcome to stay away. I don't know if my parents know how much that meant to me. I truly feel lucky for that. 

Anyway, I think the whole thing went off very well. As I think I've said before, I've never seen my somewhat antisocial father talk to so many people. And my mom was her eternal social butterfly self and seemed to enjoy the attention. I hope they enjoyed it. 

My Dramily - Part IV - The After-Blowup Blowup

One of the themes I like to explore in my writing is how violence begets violence.  So here's a little bit of family drama that came from someone being upset about drama. After my nephew blew up at my mother for referring to the similarity between his and his father's behavior, she was really unhappy. She couldn't stop rehashing it over and over. And honestly not too many of my family members are exactly very good at letting things go. 

The siblings gathered in the kitchen to finalize the financial end of the 50th anniversary celebration. My mother was present. And my dad came into the kitchen to tell us about his experience at the party. 

He thoroughly enjoyed it. I've never seen him talk to so many people (I do get my antisocial behavior naturally). There was one small incident that bothered him. He had been sitting at a table eating and socializing and decided to get some more food. When he returned to his seat, the husband of one of my mother's best friends had taken it. No big deal, right? So Daddy stood up and began talking to someone by the screen where we were showing a slide show of family photos. Then the same man who had (rather rudely) taken his seat (rather rudely) asked Daddy to move as he was standing in front of the screen. 

Daddy wouldn't have minded moving, of course. And he did move. But he wanted to share with us the impolite way the guy had asked him. It was the only thing about the whole party my (often cantankerous) dad had any problem with. 

However, this just happened to be the wrong moment to share the story. As Mama was still fuming about her grandson's recent blow up. She stood up and shouted at my father, "Don't tell that story again!" She (rather like my nephew) stormed out of the room yelling at my dad. 

Mama was tired. It had been a long weekend. And I'm sure she was not only upset because of what had happened with my nephew, but also emotionally fragile given that many of her children and grandchildren were about to head to their own homes that day. Unlike my father and me, she adores the company of others. But anger is cyclical and self-feeding. Sometimes when the family has been together for a while we start quarreling. It was a perfect time to wrap things up and let everyone go back to their corners to nurse their wounds. 

My Dramily - Part III - The Father's Day Blowup

My siblings and I, as well as our children haven't always made the best choices when it comes to partners. Despite the fact that my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary last week, we haven't been able to follow their example of longevity when it comes to marriage. Sister no. 1 is still married to her first husband (an abusive alcoholic) and claims she may make it to 50 years so long as they remain living in two different states. Sister no. 2 is on her second marriage, the first having been about 13 different kinds of asshole (more about that in a minute). Brother no. 3 is also on his second marriage. His first was an adulterous control freak with a Napoleon complex (their third child is named for her lover at the time and current husband). His second is taller, amazingly enough more controlling, and I hope I never have to hear about her sex life. Brother no. 4 died in infancy. Brother no. 5 is me; my first marriage didn't last because of irreconcilable similarities (we both like men). Sister no. 6 is on her first marriage. You can read about her here. Of the 5 nieces and nephews who have married, 3 are divorced. 

Now about no. 2's first husband. For starters we was controlling. I can't tell you how many jobs he forced her to quit because he didn't like the lack of control he had over her life. When their three children played outside at my parents' house he would freak out, allegedly because they might get hurt. And abusive. She used to say things like, "I don't like red roses because [asshole] bought me a dozen roses the first time he hit me." The first time? Sheesh. Despite keeping her from working, he seemed unable to hold down a job himself. He often claimed he quit because of personal differences with his bosses. They tended to be under the impression they fired him because of stealing. There were other shady happenings, mysterious packages delivered to the house and the like. They never had money in the way gambling addicts and junkies never have money, but my sister seemed unaware of exactly why. They frequently moved from house to house through an endless series of evictions, foreclosures, and bankruptcies. When my sister finally got rid of him, he left her in horrible, horrible debt, since by that point everything had to be in her name. I have no idea what other indignities the family had to suffer under that monster. He did however have a lovely singing voice. 

Suffice it to say no. 2's middle child doesn't like being compared to his father. At my parents' 50th celebration a well-meaning guest approached my nephew to say how much he looked like his father. He grunted in response. I was actually proud of him for his restraint, knowing how much he hates his father. 

The next day was Father's Day. We gathered at my parents' house for a lunch of leftover party food. While the adults were finishing up lunch, the kids went outside to play, including my nephew's son. When the nephew saw his son at the top of the slide he freaked out (much as his father would have done). He yelled, "who told my son he could go outside?"

He dragged the boy from the playground equipment, brought him back to the kitchen, and returned to his food. My mother began talking to him about how difficult it was to watch when his father behaved the same way. Truthfully, many members of my family are control freaks. I've seen several of them spazz over such trivial things (and have struggled with similar outbursts of control freakishness myself). The nephew paused, glaring at his food. "I am so sick of coming here and being compared to that man," he said, the anger in his voice eerily similar to that of his father. He turned to his wife, "Get your stuff. We're leaving." He stormed out in a huff, timid wife and child in tow (like his father did many times when his authority was challenged). 

My mother was upset. She couldn't stop going on and on about it. Sister no. 2 tried to explain how much he hated his father. How he wanted to find the man only to make him pay for the Hell he put his family through. How he had serious anger toward the man. And how he couldn't stand even being related to his father. 

His rage is pretty much justified. And I understand how he probably hasn't had enough time to learn how to manage those feelings, much less attain anything close to forgiveness. The poor guy is stuck with a physical appearance that resembles that of his father. He never had significant role models other than his father and so exhibits behaviors like his. He even sounds like his dad when he sings.

 

I know he hates the man so much that he can only respond to comparisons with anger, but many of the similarities are beyond his control. And he hasn't had enough time or doesn't have enough control over his own emotions to prevent those that are. Nobody thinks he's his father made over. But I hope someday he learns to accept those elements of his appearance and personality that other people see as like his dad. And if he can't learn to accept them, maybe he can at least learn to live with them and/or learn to behave differently. Responding to those comparisons with anger certainly seems to only result in behaving more like his dad. 

My Dramily - Part II - The Custody Battle

Another aspect of my ludicrous family involves a 2-year-old child whom nobody seems to really want to (or be able to) raise yet several people seem intent to fight over. The characters:

My niece is deployed in Kuwait right now. She's in the Army. She's stuck overseas for the next several months and thereby can't do much to take care of her daughter right at the moment. Before the Middle East, she was stationed somewhere in Alaska. She has/did have legal custody of her daughter. Like many young people she seems prone to making foolish mistakes. Like hooking up with the father of her child, having a child with another young and foolish person (USE CONDOMS, PEOPLE), and believing the Army's rhetoric about how they'll make your life all better if you join up. She wants to be a mother and take care of her daughter but can't for obvious reasons. She claims the Army has refused to offer her any legal help despite their willingness to ship her thousands of miles from her daughter. 

Her former partner (I'm not certain if they were married) was living with her and their daughter in Alaska. He was also in the Army, but was discharged for undisclosed reasons. His employment status is unknown and/or sketchy at best. My mother claims he hasn't sent any child support except for a dress. He has made no effort to see or communicate with his daughter and expects the girl's caregivers to make the effort to contact him. Despite all of this, he is fighting for custody of his daughter. The impression I get is that he simply doesn't want to have to pay child-support. 

My mother has documented legal custody of the child until my niece returns. As far as parenting skills go, she must be pretty good at it. She raised me after all. However, she has, over the years, raised five kids and helped raise a dozen or so grandchildren and half as many great-grandchildren. She also has bad knees and the usual health issues of a person of her age. A 2-year-old is probably the last thing she needs right now. 

The child is living (mostly) with my sister. Not my brother who is the child's grandfather. He is only marginally involved with the family in any way. She seems to have taken excellent care of the girl. According to my mother, when the child arrived, she was given to screaming tantrums, profanity that would make a sailor blush, and a few bizarre behaviors indicative of exposure to situations a 2-year-old shouldn't be exposed to. These days she appears to be a fairly normal, fairly well-adjusted child. She intermittently calls my sister Mama and/or her first name as would most girls her age with their primary care-givers. She doesn't like talking on the phone. And she is permanently attached to a small collection of bean-bag-types stuffed animals.

Add to all this mess a fourth person, an "older friend" of the father who is helping him lay claim to the child. My family refers to this man as a child molester, although I'm fairly certain they have no evidence. What they've heard is that he trades sexual favors for financial help and friendship with a mixed group of 20-somethings including the father. He seems intent on helping the father, despite having no legal "dog in the fight" as it were. The father claims he sent child support money to this man (instead of the child's actual care-givers) who then used it to buy clothes for her. He apparently offered to fund legal council for the father as well as travel expenses when he comes to get his daughter. 

To complicate matters further there is a "child advocate" involved whose most helpful advice so far has been to suggest that my sister call the father, put him on speaker phone, and follow the little girl around in lieu of the supervised visitation he's entitled to. 

Now the father claims he's won the custody battle, despite the fact that the custodial parent is deployed and it's technically illegal for them to take any action against her while she's overseas. And usually courts in the U.S. tend to be reluctant to take children away from their mothers (or their representatives) unless abuse or neglect is proven. He's coming to Georgia in a few months to collect his daughter with the help of the alleged child molester. My family is horrified. I told them that they had legal documents indicating that the clild was to remain with them until my niece returns from Kuwait. That they didn't have to do anything he told them to until they were served legal papers. They go on and on and on about the whole situation, but won't bother retaining legal council. What my mother was willing to do was to email the office of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin. They were most conciliatory but not at all helpful with their form response. Go figure. 

Rien à être fait (or however Becket spelled that).  I don't really know why I'm sharing all of this. Except that it's sad. Divorce is heinously difficult, especially for children the involved. There's no need to make it worse. Sure, children are resilient. My great-niece seems to be doing well under the care of my sister. But all this battling and back-biting seems unnecessary. And why doesn't the Army step in to support its personnel? Or just let her go if they're not going to help her? 

My Dramily - Part I - Le Petit Prince

Hello again ladies and gentlemen and the rest of you. Sorry for the long silence, but I was at my parents' house for their 50th wedding anniversary, which allowed for very little time for quiet reflection (and/or internet access). I want to talk about several happenings among my absurdly dramatic family. And since it bears connections to one of the themes I hoped to talk about when I started this little blog (parenting) I first want to talk about my nephew.

At least one of my siblings refers to my youngest  nephew with the (not always justified) moniker The Prince. He's 5, and he is my parents' youngest grandchild and his other grandparents' first grandchild, and is thereby somewhat spoiled. He also has the misfortune of living within walking distance of my parents' house and so has ample opportunity to pursue said spoiling. My sister works obscene hours as a nurse (bless her) and tries to work against the damaging effects of the grandparents and other influences. But her husband is a giant child himself and actually manages to make things worse by pestering the child instead of parenting him. No one, not her husband, not either of their parents, nor anyone else in the family supports her in her efforts at discipline. 

An example: Our first night at my parents' house my nephew and his father came over for dinner. We had roast, potatoes, and fresh vegetables from my dad's garden. Additionally my mother fixed miniature pizzas especially for the nephew. (When we cook for my kids we try to include foods they will eat, but we don't cook separate dinners just for them. And if they don't like what is prepared they are welcome to politely choose to not eat.) When he saw the pizzas he threw a walleyed fit, screaming they were the wrong ones and demanding that she make something else for him. When he was told nothing else was available, the fit became a violent tantrum with screaming, threats of violence, and raiding the pantry for cans of Spaghetti-O's, which he demanded that my mother prepare for him. 

The fit continued through dinner. And needless to say he didn't join us, nor did anyone do anything to stop him. After dinner while the family retired to the living room to watch television, he raided the bucket of snacks my mother keeps in her kitchen. Another fit followed because he couldn't find the particular "gummies" he wanted. He screamed for someone find them for him until his father did so.  

Throughout all of this I stayed quiet. His father was present, so I figured it wasn't my job. However, no one else seemed willing to do anything about it. 

Another: My father has planter boxes on either side of his front steps. This year he has marigolds in them. The flowers are dying because the nephew urinates on them daily. No one seems to be willing to do anything about that either. 

Yet another: The last time we visited my son spent the night at their house. The nephew jumped on him, threw toys at him, and hounded him late into the night. My brother-in-law did nothing to stop it. My son came away saying he never wanted to visit again. This time my son did spend the night again and came away with the impression the behavior situation is getting better (although he did get smacked with a marble slide, whatever that is). 

On another day the nephew was throwing another fit because he wanted his game from his house and no one would unlock the door for him. My mother was on the phone and couldn't hear the person she was talking to. I went outside for a cigarette. This time his mother was present. She took him outside for a time-out until he calmed down. His response? He refused to sit on the bench where she put him, screamed, threatened violence, and attached himself to her leg so she couldn't leave him. He bellowed that he didn't want to be alone and she always stayed with him through his time-outs. 

I know it wasn't really my place, but I stepped in. I told him that I was outside, so he wouldn't be alone. I told him to let go of his mother and do what she told him. When he started to argue with me, I refused to engage. I placed myself between him and his mother. I waited a few yards away while he calmed down.

When the screaming subsided, I spoke to him. I tried to keep my voice calm since he was still visibly upset. I validated his feelings (something I've never heard any of the adults in his life do). And I asked him to think about other people's feelings, especially when he yells and screams at them. The idea that other people might have feelings was completely foreign to him. I know a few adults who aren't that great at perspective-taking, but a five-year-old ought to be able to at least acknowledge that other people have an internal life even if he hasn't mastered empathy yet. We talked about how it was easier to comply with people's wishes when they asked you in a nice way. And I modeled how he could ask someone for help in retrieving his game. 

He said, "Uncle, will you go with me to my house and help me unlock the door so I can get my game?" Well, I couldn't very well say no then, could I? Much to my surprise, he went inside and used the modeling I had given him to politely ask his mother to borrow the house key and to ask my son to accompany him to find the game.

I'm not the best parent in the world by any stretch of the imagination. I make gross errors all the time. I tend to fall on the permissive side of the permissive-authoritarian scale of parents. And I'm not always a great master of my own emotions. But I think my "little prince" of a nephew might not be such a holy terror if the adults in his life were just a little more consistent, responsive, and better role models for his behavior. I know I didn't "fix" him in a few minutes. His parents (and grandparents) have more work to do to be positive influences in his life. But, he didn't throw a fit in my presence for the rest of our visit, and I'd like to think I had something to do with that.