Psychotic Bitch
Simon's annual family vacation rolled around this week and we went off to spend 10 days in the mountains with his parents, his nephew and his brother. I was assured before the trip that his brother, who fights with Drew (Simon's eldest son), would only be there for the weekend.
We arrived Thursday evening and all was well. Friday, I went shopping with Simon's mother, and we bonded. We got the baby a toddler pool and some stuff. Saturday morning I found out that his brother invited his girlfriend and her five kids to visit for the day. They all spent the day having a great time. I baked a cake for Ralph, it was his birthday. Then we had smores. It all went to hell.
First, I'd like to say that I've never felt comfortable staying at someone's house. Even before I had children. Now! I have three and I feel that the way I handle kids and the way others handle my kids is always going to be different. People have different beliefs and when you're in someone else's home, one must respect those beliefs. It's the polite thing to do. However, when one turns into a raving maniac, then FUCK polite.
So, the smores.... Simon was out by the camp fire they built, the baby was wandering the area and got into the pool. When he got out of the pool was when the shit hit the fan. Mind you he only had a diaper on, and not a swim one, so his diaper was saturated from pool water. Simon, with the thought that he didn't want Miller catching cold, took the wet diaper off and was holding him in his arms. My brother-in-law went ballistic. He's spouting off that we (Simon and I) are fucking tree-huggers and we are nuts. We shouldn't have taken the diaper off the baby. It ain't right....yada yada. I went outside and took the baby to put a new diaper on him. He was still ranting when I went back inside. I told him that it wasn't a big deal and that I was putting the diaper on the baby. He's still yelling at us for being hippie loving...whatever. I told him he was blowing it out of proportion. Simon's mother, conservative to the core, interjects that it is a big deal. I, shortly, told her, NO, it is not a big deal. He is a baby. So, Simon's brother says I'm sick. I tell him to shut up and kiss my big butt, and he calls me a psychotic bitch.
THAT IS IT. VACATION IS OVER. I told Simon that if Paul didn't leave that Sunday, that I was going to go stay at my mothers. Simon said that we were all leaving, so we did.
Now, I do know that Simon and Paul don't get along all the time, and that Paul hates Simon's ex-wife. ANYONE who knows me knows that I am the furthest thing from a tree hugger. I am the least granola person I know. I don't think there is much in me that enjoys roughing. I am a city girl to the fullest. Kathleen on the other hand, is the quilt making, clothes sewing for kids, let's make out own preserves while we go camping type of person. Maybe Paul was confused, maybe Paul was looking for an ass kicking. I don't know. What I DO know, is how to raise my kids, and I know what is right and wrong, and him calling me a PSYCHOTIC BITCH because my child had a diaper full of water, and my husband took it off, is a ridiculous. The man needs counseling. His parent's are raising his child, and he went to jail for stealing. I hardly need someone like him telling me what is right and what is wrong. FUCKING ASS HOLE.
What irritates me the most is that Simon's mom is taking Paul's side, and is mad at me. Great, so much for family bonding.
So, we spent our vacation at hotels. Fine by me. I'd rather go swimming in a pool than in a lake. I'd rather be able to go to the bathroom and put my toiletries away in the bathroom rather than carrying them to and from my room. I'd rather not have to suffer through awkward moments when I don't have anything nice to say about people I don't like.
I do feel badly that the vacation didn't go as planned, but I also didn't know that the asshole was going to be staying the whole time. Simon made the decision to go, but I still feel responsible for ruining things.
Catholic guilt?
We arrived Thursday evening and all was well. Friday, I went shopping with Simon's mother, and we bonded. We got the baby a toddler pool and some stuff. Saturday morning I found out that his brother invited his girlfriend and her five kids to visit for the day. They all spent the day having a great time. I baked a cake for Ralph, it was his birthday. Then we had smores. It all went to hell.
First, I'd like to say that I've never felt comfortable staying at someone's house. Even before I had children. Now! I have three and I feel that the way I handle kids and the way others handle my kids is always going to be different. People have different beliefs and when you're in someone else's home, one must respect those beliefs. It's the polite thing to do. However, when one turns into a raving maniac, then FUCK polite.
So, the smores.... Simon was out by the camp fire they built, the baby was wandering the area and got into the pool. When he got out of the pool was when the shit hit the fan. Mind you he only had a diaper on, and not a swim one, so his diaper was saturated from pool water. Simon, with the thought that he didn't want Miller catching cold, took the wet diaper off and was holding him in his arms. My brother-in-law went ballistic. He's spouting off that we (Simon and I) are fucking tree-huggers and we are nuts. We shouldn't have taken the diaper off the baby. It ain't right....yada yada. I went outside and took the baby to put a new diaper on him. He was still ranting when I went back inside. I told him that it wasn't a big deal and that I was putting the diaper on the baby. He's still yelling at us for being hippie loving...whatever. I told him he was blowing it out of proportion. Simon's mother, conservative to the core, interjects that it is a big deal. I, shortly, told her, NO, it is not a big deal. He is a baby. So, Simon's brother says I'm sick. I tell him to shut up and kiss my big butt, and he calls me a psychotic bitch.
THAT IS IT. VACATION IS OVER. I told Simon that if Paul didn't leave that Sunday, that I was going to go stay at my mothers. Simon said that we were all leaving, so we did.
Now, I do know that Simon and Paul don't get along all the time, and that Paul hates Simon's ex-wife. ANYONE who knows me knows that I am the furthest thing from a tree hugger. I am the least granola person I know. I don't think there is much in me that enjoys roughing. I am a city girl to the fullest. Kathleen on the other hand, is the quilt making, clothes sewing for kids, let's make out own preserves while we go camping type of person. Maybe Paul was confused, maybe Paul was looking for an ass kicking. I don't know. What I DO know, is how to raise my kids, and I know what is right and wrong, and him calling me a PSYCHOTIC BITCH because my child had a diaper full of water, and my husband took it off, is a ridiculous. The man needs counseling. His parent's are raising his child, and he went to jail for stealing. I hardly need someone like him telling me what is right and what is wrong. FUCKING ASS HOLE.
What irritates me the most is that Simon's mom is taking Paul's side, and is mad at me. Great, so much for family bonding.
So, we spent our vacation at hotels. Fine by me. I'd rather go swimming in a pool than in a lake. I'd rather be able to go to the bathroom and put my toiletries away in the bathroom rather than carrying them to and from my room. I'd rather not have to suffer through awkward moments when I don't have anything nice to say about people I don't like.
I do feel badly that the vacation didn't go as planned, but I also didn't know that the asshole was going to be staying the whole time. Simon made the decision to go, but I still feel responsible for ruining things.
Catholic guilt?
