Stepmonster

It's 4:20am. I haven't been to sleep yet. No, not for one minute.

The reason? I have a stepmonster and thoughts of how to manage this familial situation are pounding my head.

I'm fairly certain that my dad will never find this blog so I'm going to share the details of my evening here in the hopes of clearing some space in my brain for some much-needed rest. Especially since Ben will be up in two (ouch!) hours.

My dad married the wicked witch of the west and that, to be sure, is putting it kindly. Now, to be fair, occasionally the witch (I better call her T just to be safe) does throw on her tiara and is the nicest, Glenda type fairy godmother that you could ever imagine. It just seems like recently, give or take 10 years, that the witch has been around much more than Glenda. And I've pretty much had it.

After forgetting my dad's birthday and attempting to make amends by finishing work, dashing home, packing up Ben and scurrying to to his house for what I hoped would be good family time before the big birthday bash, I quickly found T working in the backyard, feverishly preparing for the party. "Hi!" I said. "Everything looks great!" I added emphatically. "What can I do to help?" "Stay away from me," she replied. "I'm in a bad mood."

Well, hello to you too. And lovely to see you, I might add.

No sooner could I digest this greeting, when the gossipy aunt grabs me by the elbow and pulls me into the bathroom. "We need to talk," she says." "Your dad showed Teresa your blog. She is not happy."

I had recently posted a tongue-in-cheek re-cap of the notoriously HUGE event of me forgetting my dad's birthday.

I looked at my aunt. "So?" I said. "That's my dad's business, not mine. Teresa doesn't even know what a blog is."

My aunt goes on: "Well, you really hurt her feelings, blah blah blah blah blah blah..." At which point I cut her off: "She's hurt my feelings more than I've ever admitted in the last 10 years. This isn't about her. I could really care less."

I turned around, flung open the door and there was Teresa. Perfect timing. But the thing was, I really didn't care. How many times have I arrived at their house, only to have my dad tell me, "Teresa's in a really bad mood today. You need to be extra kind, extra helpful." Right, and when am I anything but all this? And more?

Ben wanted me to swim with him. So I stayed clear of the adults and enjoyed my time with him. The adults also steered clear of us and by the time we went in to dry off and get ready for the party, there was a chilly silence among the cousins who had come in for the night. I caught a few looks of disapproval and that was enough for me.

I got the hell out of the kitchen and found my brother and his kids. My sister showed up shortly thereafter and I felt much more protected, secure.

Teresa had another outburst about us not staying over.

My sister and I never did have an opportunity to present our respective tributes to our dad. It was pretty obvious that any kind of sentiment was not part of Teresa's agenda.

Then she and the cousins all sat on their butts, on the porch, while I took Ben on the rounds to say goodbye. No one spoke to me, no one made even the slightest attempt to touch my hand in a goodbye gesture, certainly no hugs were attempted. I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there.

Ben cried for 40 minutes on the way home. Wailing about how tired he was. My head started to hurt. Then it began to throb. Then I thought I was going to throw up.

We finally arrived home at 11:30pm. I took two prescription strength pain killers and sobbed for hours. It did nothing for my head pain so I took two more. Obviously, I must have some type of great tolerance to meds because here I am, at 4:45am, still nursing the headache and not a bit tired.

I need a break from Teresa. I have absolutely had it with her back-stabbing ways. And most particularly, with her "triangulating", that is, bouncing from one daughter to the other, depending on whom is the greater threat to her at any given time.

It comes right down to being unhealthy and toxic. And a situation that I'd best avoid for a while. After all, she definitely took the lead on this one by saying: "Stay away from me." Okay, Teresa, that I will do. May I offer you some advice for the future: be careful of what you demand.