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Morning Song by Darlinggirl
October 2008

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October 9, 2008

Now, really, would this site have helped little ol' me all those years ago and really part two: Why did my baby sister send a link to this site and greatly encourage me to tell some of my experiences here? Now, I know all those buried memories probably do need to be let out, but will it help? It's not as if Cheri didn't witness so much of MeanOldMum's bizarre behaviour, for Cheri was with me in several of the Stalking Incidents.

Yes, MeanOldMum stalked me the whole year before Himself and I married, it got to where I began checking parking lots and cars near mine. She knew my schedule and how I was always ferrying my sister and baby brother, our best loved lunch and shopping spots and of course, my car. Looking back now, with over half a lifetime's experinces and *cough* *cough* insights and wisdom, well, I'm still speechless.

Oh, sure it shows up in bad dreams and of course, about four years ago, after witnessing an altercation with BabyBoyII (MeanOldMum didn't know I was in her house), I stopped all the Good-Daughter-in-Law stuff: Reminding her son of birthdays, holidays, calls, helping to budget trips to visit (hence, we've not seen her in four years), cards, emails, I just stopped cold-turkey...I didn't even discuss it with anyone.

Ohhh, sure, when BabyBoyI (who she worships) was married, I made sure the bride had her address and she did received an invite, but her health was too frail to take the trip to Boston in June...I am trying to remember when I last spoke to her...I answered Himself's cell a few months back and promptly went to get him. All I said was, " Hi! Just a second, he's out in the garden..." and promptly fetched him his phone.

When out at BabyBoyI's home the last two times, of course I noticed the silver on the dining-room dresser. I also noticed, Himself noticing it, we both shot each other glances over that long, glowing, glossy table (seats twelve) in that huge dining room. I don't know what he saw looking back at me but I know what I felt.

This silver belonged to Mr.D.'s family, it was meant to given to the first male in the family to have sons, guess who that was? It was the way Mr. D. got it, but really, it's not that good quality silver, really. Not that I have any silver but I know the good truly heirloom quality, from my grandmothers' family silver. But I digress.

Her reason for not presenting us with the D. family silver when BabyBoy I was born: She didn't trust our marriage to last and didn't want it in our possession when the marriage broke up. As if I would make off with that flimsy ugly silver! If I had ever left Himself, I would have given him back ANYTHING that came from them but there wasn't ANYTHING from her. (It can really suck being the third and youngest brother and of course, the father-in-law was long long dead and even though he hated his wife's guts by the time he died, he named her executor of his estate.)

I understand she is in cloud nine still 'cause BabyBoyI married a Catholic, she sees this as some sort of victory over me and my influence.

Now, I'm a mother-in-law and do I compensate for my own exeperience? Ohhh, yes. Besides I really like our daughter-in-law, at times, when I watch her and BabyBoyI together, it's like watching twins of some sort, they actually look a lot alike and I can see so easily the fierce devotion and pride and love in his eyes when he looks at her. (Well, I am no stranger to looks like that.)

Truthfully, I have liked all the boys' girlfriends, all of them. (The boys seemed to really like very smart, very pretty, very funny girls that dance well and sing a lot. We actually keep up with several of these old flames.) Oh sure, she can't cook really, but that's okay. BabyBoyI can cook pretty darn well, that's one the things that blew her away when she got to spending time with him. She told me so herself.

When we were in Boston, I must confess, I got a huge kick out of watching those three, *my* men...for really, their manners, height, grace, and yes, compared to these people, they all sound a bit Southern...and well, my heart understood why BabyBoyI's new wife gazed at him with eyes huge and dilated with love! *heehee* And we get along, her mother and I, she, too worships the water BabyBoy I walks upon and adores the point she makes sure to have *his* Bourbon in the house when he visits. *heehee* My sons have introduced Bourbon to this family of Irish whisky and it's funny to watch.

Anyway, I'm amazed at Cheri's own brand of sensitivity, it's as if she sensed the recent troubled with MeanOldMum and I haven't breathed a word to her. Why not?

It's the same old song. Not even any new verses. She will know what is happening, what is going to happen next, she doesn't even have to be told, she knows. As long as that woman is alive, that's the way it is going to be.

And more and more, I totally understand, why her husband drank himself to death. As cruel as that sounds and he wasn't a nice man either, from all I've been told.

Would he have approved of me ? Well, I don't know. He wasn't much of a Catholic, hated to attend church and thought much of the religious world was totally fake. He seemed to care mostly for making money. He did love to attend gallery openings in various cities and he read a lot. I don't like looking at pictures of him. From a very handsome, very red-headed but rather short man, with a big romantic eyes, he morphed into a cruel, hard, flat-eyed, thin-lipped businessman-engineer type and the last years of his life, he looked very very mean and cold.

Plus, he was so, well, old. When I look at my parents now and recollect (as Granddaddy would say) what they looked like when I was living in their house, I'm shocked myself. My parents were young too when I was born and for awhile, they looked it. I remember lots of traits of theirs that no one sees anymore.

Let's see, my mother was seventeen when I was born, my father twenty...and I left home when I married what? They were were in their mid-thirties. Not nearly so bitter, but showing signs of strain and the effects of so many things.

So, who knows? All I know or perhaps fear, is MeanOldMum is going to live to be a whining, fussing, grasping, mean ancient woman...I mean as well over ninety. Maybe even one hundred! Egads.

Listen to me, I am implying I want someone to, well, go away. Her mind is as sharp as ever, her body not doing so well in some ways but pretty good in others. Her spirit, though, that's what I fear.

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