Donna reminded me the other day that, while I spend a good deal of time bitching about my current problems, I rarely talk about what she feels is a more likely candidate as the root of my problems... my parents. I've mentioned my mother from time-to-time before. Her neglect, her awkward boundary issues and even how she got knocked-up back in the summer of love. So this time, let's give my dad a turn.
My father is what some would call a compulsive groom. A serial marrier. He just can't manage to stay single no matter how hard he tries. He falls into marriages, despite his obvious lack of matrimonial ability, with surprising ease. My brothers and I have run out of ways to address all of our mothers.
First, of course, is Mom. Our biological mother. That one is pretty obvious.
Then there was Elizabeth. We just called her Elizabeth. Because, well... we were still new at the step-mom thing and didn't know how important it would be to distinguish her from the parade of moms that would follow her. Besides, we were all grown and married ourselves by the time Dad married her so it's not like we had to live with her or anything. And since we were introduced to her by way of a phone call telling us they had just celebrated their nuptials on the eighteenth green of the Pebble Beach golf course, we figured there wasn't too much expectation that we would get all huggy-kissy with her.
Somewhere along the way Elizabeth and Dad grew apart... or whatever. And some time later, Iris came along. Iris was German and, as Dad reminded me almost every time I spoke with him, bisexual. They met on the internet and married after she had considerable trouble entering the United States via Canada. I had another new mom. She was, in age, between me and my older brother. It pleased me to no end to eventually think to call her Grandma Iris. We even got the kids to do it too.
One Christmas she brought some holiday treats for the cast of a show I was in. They were made from communion wafers. No shit. My castmates still delight in reminding me that my new mom fed them the flesh of the Savior. "Jesus Christ, these cookies are delicious!"
Surprisingly, that whole deal didn't work out.
Now Dad is with Genie. Genie is now my new new mom and Grandma Iris has become my old new mom. Genie is lovely and a (finally) age-appropriate companion for my father. She has at least two daughters that I've met and, who knows, there might be even more.
So to recap... there's Mom, Elizabeth, my old new mom Grandma Iris, and my new new mom Genie.
I'm just jealous of my older brother. After all, he's the only one who has ever been to any of my dad's weddings. Even if it was while he was in the womb.
UPDATE: I read this post live in February 2008
Mommies, Dearest from Jon Deal on Vimeo.
Oh, Pete... Im so sorry to laugh at your woes but you actually made me burst out laughing in my office just now. You are truly blessed with the gift comedy. Im sure if you have ever let Donna down in other areas, you make up for it with your humor. I have a dad like yours and its nice to know Im not alone. Thanks Pete.
I feel really bad for laughing so much at this but the communion cookie thing put me right the hell over the top.
This was featured on GoodMom/BadMom so get down with your bad self. http://blogs.chron.com/goodmombadmom/2008/05/blog_round_up.html
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Cause I think she pegged it.
Damn, that is a lot of matrimony.