He’s Still in Jail

The only "protective custody" availa...

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At least for a few more weeks according to my older nephew N1, who at my behest called his mother, Baby, last night to tell her  – from me – that ignoring my calls would not make the situation go away. Fortunately, DNOS had already managed to get my rock star sister to take a call and proceeded to royally ream her backward ass, setting her straight on the new world order.

Baby cried persecuted to her son though he informed me that he didn’t believe a word of it, and when I spoke to Mom late Sunday afternoon, the harassing phone calls had stopped.

This was not before she received at least two more after her trip to the police station and was a nervous wreck.

As I chatted with Mom, I called her the traces of anxiety and exhaustion in her voice. This latest incident with Baby being a baby strained her, but unlike times past, she didn’t cave. She’s determined that the Bank of Mom is closed, and she hinted at “other changes”, which can’t be good for Baby. Whereas my dad didn’t believe in punishing us from the grave, Mom is perfectly capable of playing behavior accountant from beyond. Dad was a hammer in the moment, but Mom had the longer memory and could wait patiently for the right opportunity to throw youthful indiscretion squarely back at you when the moment presented itself.

LawnMower Man is on work release, so apparently he was tormenting Mom before or after milking and field work at the farm where he is one of several hired men. My late husband, Will, used to refer to such a set up as “baby jail”. An old high school friend of his wound up in a similar program early in our marriage, and he was mercilessly teased about it.

Between Baby’s broken back and LawnMower Man’s incarceration, they are a hurting financial unit. In days of yore, he would simply phone Mom and inform her that if she didn’t help them out, he would pack Baby up and dump her on Mom’s doorstep. Since the beginning of the year, however, DNOS and I have made it clear that there is no way on any level of hell that we’d allow her to take Baby back. Normally, Mom listens to us not even the littlest bit, but we’ve made surprising headway in the influence department and Baby’s going to have a difficult time getting out of the corner DNOS and I have left her to manuver this time.

“She has the numbers of all the women’s shelters,” Mom told me. “It’s time she got herself out of her own messes.”

Forty-three at the end of the month, she looks a decade older and telegraphs “poor white trash” with her every word and action. No one in the family has an ounce of patience left. If she had  real emergency right now, she had to rely on the kindness of strangers quite literally because anyone who knows her is done with her. She’s played too many people and the chickens are roosting for real in the yard of the possibly condemned trailer she lives in.

5 thoughts on “He’s Still in Jail

  1. I have always seen a lot of simarities between addiction to substances and addiction to romantic involvement with asshats. In that vein, I have seen some women hit rock bottom and come out the other side with a renewed view on who and what (or whether) they date. Then there are the ones who just keep going until it kills them.

    The family and friends IMO reach a similar state to those dealing with the substance addicted, as well … No more. No more lies, no more promises, no more 4 am rescues, simply no more. Period.

    I had to sadly but firmly end a friendship of many years when her addiction to worthless wastes of space became more than I was willing to invest in. She landed on my doorstep one too many times, all her meagre worldly possessions in grocery bags, nose askew, begging a place to stay just this one more time until she could “figure something out”. On the upside, she had long ago lost her own three children to more responsible parties. On the downside, my own kids were peering over the staircase in horror at the ruin of Aunt Jenna’s face. I turned her away.

    It had the predictable consequence of her wishing me damned to hell and called everything from heartless to stuck up to evil to (hilariously enough) a participant, since I was on “his side” that meant I must want him for myself. I gave her enough for cab fare, wished her well and closed my door on her forever.

    I am so sorry that you have had to deal with this for so long, but so glad to hear that your mother seems to be coming around. I can’t imagine having to cut off your own child and I am sure it is one of the hardest and most painful, but in the long run most effective, things she will ever have to do. Once Baby runs out of options, her only option for Savior is herself. I will pray that she can find the strength buried deep in her somewhere to take on the role at long last.

    1. She is five years younger than I am and I left home at 18, so I missed a large chunk of her antics. Ironically, the only guy she had a semi-decent relationship with was essentially homeless. They couch and shelter surfed, living out of paper grocery bags and boxes for over two years.

      This is her bed. She made and she can snuggle in or leave it as far as I am concerned, My only regret is the way she’s treated her son, who deserves better.

  2. good to hear that your mom has taken a stronger stand. there are womens shelters that can provide her safe haven – and better physical security than she can get anywhere else. fingers crossed…

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