Phone Call Reprecussions

I had been debating things since the phone call.  Even the children caught that she was manipulating them, and me, to get a rise out of me, so she could gaslight me and more.

I now know for certain that my husband reads my blog, when he has decided to hide everything from me.  I have nothing to hide.

He stated, commenting on this blog: I may be your personal villain right now. You may hate my guts for the rest of your life, but one thing I think we will always agree is that your mother is a piece of work who should never be within a hundred miles of our kids.

100 miles of the kids? 
I don’t want her within 100 miles of me!

I just checked – she’s 125 miles away as the crow flies.  Way too close.  I should move to the other side of the country to get thousands of miles between us.  That would be better, right?

This was the first time since the separation that I had actually wished my wasband was still in my life.  He would have taken the phone, told her off, and hung up, instead of 40ish minutes of wtf the kids and I went through trying to humour her to get medical information from her, while she wheedled information from us.

The irony is that the kids had been asking to see her “when they’re old enough.”  Our oldest is barely old enough to let him, and he has since decided that he wants nothing to do with her.  That phone call was a wonderful thing, in a way – the kids got a taste of what she was like to me.  A taste is all I want them to ever have.

Yet, there’s the medical issue she talked about.  One aunt died of brain cancer.  Now it’s come out that there is an issue with the “left side of our brains.”  I guess her strokes must have been on the left side of her brain.  I don’t think she sees how her chimney imitation could have contributed to that.

Then there’s something about cysts removed from my grandmother’s (her mother’s) ovaries when she was 40.  Mine were scanned about a year ago and are fine.  Then there’s the kidney issues, including cysts.

This is the one thing that has me worried.

I was diagnosed with a 2F kidney cyst a few years ago, but because it was 2.5cm, and had not grown between scans, it was deemed benign.  On my last scan, it had grown to over 3cm.  Now, that’s not much, but if it keeps on growing, and the shards of pain I’m feeling is any indication, I may need more investigation. 

I’m not looking forward to that.

The brain thing has me concerned, but there is nothing i can do about it.  I get stressed and my right hand starts to shake.  I’ve been told it’s psychological, but from what I remember of my anatomy and biology lessons, the right hand is controlled by the left hemisphere.  I can’t do anything about my brain, and if there is a ticking time bomb, then it will go off when it goes off.  My kidneys, however, can be managed.

Now, to address what he said.  “I may be your personal villain right now.”

No, you’re not my “personal villain.” The “personal villain” is someone else.  Several someone elses.

“You may hate my guts for the rest of your life,”

How can I hate the man who sired my children?

I don’t hate you.  I want you to man up and support the kids, and your wife, and try to work on patching things up so that she (me) can tolerate being in your presence, instead of making things worse.  This includes the car payments.  Your name is on the lease, and you are just as legally responsible for them as I am.  I would like to believe that a loving father would go above and beyond to make sure the vehicle used to drive his kids around in, and that his 16 year old was going to learn to drive on, was 110% road worthy.

I would like to believe you would do anything to make sure your kids’ lives, and their mother’s, are easier for them, even if you suffer, instead of the minimum that is legaly required.  After all, that’s what a man who loves his children does.

“(B)ut one thing I think we will always agree on, is that your mother is a piece of work who should never be within a hundred miles of our kids.

Yup.  We both agree on this.  The stunts she pulled when my grandmother died and I was 35 weeks pregnant, and the one about 8 years ago when she had a stroke taught you exactly what sort of monster-in-law you were dealing with, and the other stunt 3 ish years ago showed that even after the strokes, she’s still the same.


She owes me money from a court case that she never bothered to show up for.  She still has some of my property – if it wasn’t destroyed in that apartment building fire she was rescued from.  She also has the family recipes I have been moaning about for over 30 years.  I want those recipes so I can share them with my children and children-in-law, but she never wanted me to have them as a teen, or learn them.  This might be the only time I can get the special great-grandma’s cookies and more.

And photos.  Photos of my childhood.  A specific photo album my grandmother gave me.

I’m thinking about allowing her some minimal contact if she’s willing to follow boundaries, but she’s already stomped all over one.

I seriously doubt this relationship will happen.  I’m going to have to think about this some more.  How much of my soul am I willing to sell in order to get a few precious mementoes of my childhood? My children are not up for sale.

As for the cops – she has to actually start harassing me for them to do something about her.

I need a solid think.

Tomorrow: job training.  Another certificate to get!  Woot!

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