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parents' weekend

My parents just left this morning. Ossie obliged them very nicely on their visit by starting to walk. He's just taking a few steps here and there, but it definitely put a shine on the (otherwise) dreary proceedings.

I can't seem to be anything but a sullen teenager around her these days. We were deciding some things about the new house--which is, in theory, their guest house/retirement house (heaven for fend!). We will, again--in theory, build our house on the same land in the coming year or two. Thing is, this house has cost twice as much to build as we thought it would and Jeff and I are in no way able to sink that much money times two (our house has to be twice as big as theirs--county regulations or something) in our own construction project. And, my parents are barely able to make it through each month having to pay for this place. So. Jeff and I offered to buy them out this weekend and they agreed...thinking that they will buy the place back in a couple of years when we are ready to begin building "our" place. But secretly (don't tell!) we don't want to build anything else.

I mean, I'd love for my dad to be close by. He adores Ossie and Ossie adores him and it warms the cockles of my cold cold heart to see them together. It's a bit like seeing what I didn't have as a kid (trying not to be all blamey here, but I'm not doing too well with that), and a bit like seeing my dad come fully into the light. Last night, after Oz had gone down for the night and all the dishes were done, my dad and Jeff and I sat around the table trying to remember all of the state capitals. It was really fun. (dorks, all of us)

So yeah. We want to not ever sell the place back to them. We love the little house and have ideas for expansion if we ever felt like we needed more room. I don't think I could stand to live next door to my mother. Ever. She was talking about having Dan (drunk brother) come up here to install the AC and I almost clocked her. I have told her again and again, that he is not welcome here. He was such a complete asshole, and a freeloading entitled asshole at that, this summer. Not to mention the drinking, which, on the few occasions he slipped and drank, was beyond horrifying. He knows he's not welcome here. My dad knows he's not welcome here. I have told my mother, but she still doesn't get it. I'm so angry about all of this. I'm so angry at the way they (read: she) treat Dan. She infantalizes him because she is so afraid that he will end up on the streets. He never has to deal with consequences, never has to live, not really. And thus, he becomes this pathetic half-dead person who has not moved beyond being 14-years-old. Example: this summer he was charged with a DUI here in NC and had his license taken from him by the state of NC. My mother? Finagles the system to get him a FL license. I was so mad. so so fucking mad. He drives drunk all the time--and not just a few drinks drunk, but blacked out can't remember anything falling out of bed drunk. My dad's fatal flaw is that he is my mother's minion and so he gets along and goes along with whatever.

Ossie is being utterly charming right this minute. He's taking things out of the bag and putting things back in the back and babbling about all manner of things and looking at himself in a little toy mirror. He's starting saying dadda and momma and bye bye and he signs fan and basho and peaches and cat and waves bye bye. He does not sign or say milk because that is too important for mere language. But I know what he means so I best hie myself away.

I promise I won't always write about how much I'm not getting along with my mother. I had every intention of writing, today, about what a great time Jeff and I had on Friday night. When we went out! With friends! Hotdiggitydog! Later I'll write about the good times.

8:15 a.m. - 2006-09-17

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