is the grass any bluer...

is the grass any bluer...
on the other side?

Friday, July 3, 2015

Grandkids Grow Up



A few years ago I started wondering why I did not see my grandchildren more often. I would get a ride to N Ky to visit, and borrow my friend the generous and kind Diana's car, drive to my son's home in Hebron ... but nobody would answer the phone, return texts, or open the door. As it turned out, my daughter-in-law had gotten angry with me over something -- I had no idea what it was -- yet after a bit of investigation, I saw that "somehow" I'd deleted/blocked her from my Facebook. Of course, I did NOT do that, but I do know someone who knows all the answers to my password-revealing "secret questions." That is my older sister, who has bullied me all my life and after 60 years, I figure it's time for that to stop. After her treatment of me the last few years, I'm resigned to the fact that she will never change; I have left that relationship behind. It's for the best. 

Kasey still isn't speaking to me, but I have also accepted that circumstance. Until I realized my Facebook was hacked, I wondered what I had done wrong, and why I was living the life I was living-- alone, wanting to see my grandchildren, yet never getting to see them.

Maybe Kasey was still pissed off that I got a divorce from my beloved last husband. Perhaps she's miffed because I couldn't get to Florence to see her and family after her fourth childbirth. You see, when my youngest grandson was born 11 years ago, I was living with The Addict. 

During that time, I was not allowed to see my family or go out anywhere, unless it was to get Kevin beer or cigarettes. If I got a job, I had to bring the money directly home, so he could order crack from his dealer. If I challenged him, I had table and chairs shoved into my ribs until they broke. 

I would be forced to live upstairs in the attic when the ribs fractured -- would have to stay there until I could breathe and sneeze without wincing -- in the attic, yes, where there was no air conditioning or heat. It was four years of Hell on Earth. 

I finally found help at UK, put together a plan, and got out. Praise be to UK School of Dentistry and the placards placed in the ladies room by some kind folk who act to stop domestic violence. 

I seem to always set myself up with people who bully me. Perhaps bullies seek out people like me, who will do anything you say as long as you still love them. I have been told I am a people pleaser, that I want attention, I want to be noticed. Well, yeah! Who doesn't? Hello, middle child calling from the middle of the seven-child pack here, just want a pat on the head! Lol

So, why am I babbling on and on about all of this? I do have a point to this blog, and that is that no matter what you do with your children, they grow up. They fall in love, grow their own opinions, have children, disagree with you, and find ways to point the finger for faults they have. Whether they are your child or your son's child, they (hopefully) grow up. Just as my mother, who beat us with Hot Wheels tracks learned, when kids like me grow up, they stop talking to their parents who have abused them. We get pregnant and leave home ASAP. Then we live our lives out, always seeking the love and understanding we didn't get as a child. 

Well, lambchops, my granddaughters are now out of high school, and the boys are 13 and 11. They are able now to let me be their Facebook friend and my granddaughters are old enough to confide in me and ask me for advice, and that, my dears, is priceless. 

Give time to Time.  It indeed heals all wounds. 

Peace, love, and grandkids. 
K

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