April is letter writing month for NaBloPoMo and even though I’m not participating in the event I am taking the time to write some letters. It is such a cathartic practice and a lost art. When I was a little girl I had such a great letter-writing practice with my grandmother. She has curly pretty writing and would put stickers on the letter and enclose newspaper clippings she thought I’d be interested in and enclosed them lovingly in an envelope she would address to me. My mind never paused to consider that when she licked the envelope she did so with lips that would kiss me were she living closer, but then we might not have had the many exchanged letters.
Last night week I wrote a letter to Mallory and sent it via email to ask her permission to share a different kind of letter here in my April writing exercise.
Let me back up a bit to tell a story. It’s not a warm and fuzzy one, either. Rather, it is a painful time in my life as a parent and it brought to mind the several years I was a single parent to my daughter.
When Mallory contacted her father and arranged to begin a relationship with him I wasn’t at all pleased, but tried to be brave and understanding of it. It’s natural, I thought. This wanting to find out where you come from and what your other parent is like. But I didn’t like it at all. After phone calls and a visit from her sperm donor to us, she got to the point where she wanted to fly to Arizona to his home and spend some time prior to Christmas with him and his wife and their young toddler-age daughter.
This was a strained time for all of our family and there were awkward, tense conversations with Richard Cranium that usually ended in me berating him for not sticking to the plan or doing some monumentally asinine act AND DOING SO WITH MY KID IN HIS PHYSICAL POSSESSION. Obviously, sharing any parenting duty with him was foreign and I have never been accused of sharing toys during playtime. Not in pre-school. Not ever.
So I put my teenage daughter on an airplane and waited in agony until she got home that about a week later to celebrate Christmas and immediately upon her return I received a letter from Sperm Donor’s mother-in-law. A woman I’ve never met who typed me three pages, single-spaced and let me know that my child hadn’t ever said “thank you” for anything and seemed ungrateful during her visit and a lot of other unbelievably ridiculous things. Somehow, while I was scanning the letter, my senses came to me and I called my best friend over to stop me from committing an unspeakable act that would have surely resulted in hopping on a plane myself to crease someone’s skull with a blunt object. Meanwhile, my eldest son called his father at work and suggested that he come home as he described me as a “lion in a cage, pacing back and forth and growling“.
This woman, this NOBODY to me, this STRANGER wrote me a letter and assumed all kinds of things about me. She suggested that God approved of her sending the diatribe and even invited me to call her because, as she wrote: “I do well on the phone.”
To list the numerous mistakes in her wondering if I could call her on the phone and “talk” about these things would take an entire other posting, but I’m certain that my personality shines through enough of my writing to intimate that THAT WAS A HUGE MISCALCULATION ON HER PART.
Bring it on was my first and only thought at that moment. I picked up the phone to call her and my BFF offered some advice that I’ve lived and lived by ever since that moment: “Don’t forget that women, especially, have a terrible problem that prevents them from ever getting anywhere, Kelly. They are always running around trying to get other women to behave. She wants you to BEHAVE and keep your daughter out of her daughter’s life. Her daughter is married to this man and she doesn’t want the distraction. If you try to go line by line of her letter and answer everything and even try to set her straight, she will be winning because she will be making you behave. You don’t have to do this.”
It was too late. Lion in the cage had begun the act of readying herself to protect her cubs and the claws were out. While I didn’t go “line by line” in explanation, I did call and leave a message. When she called back she said, “Hi. This is Christy.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Christy. You know. I’m so-and-so’s mom.”
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“I’m the mother-in-law of Richard Cranium.”
“No. I heard you the first time. I want to know WHO THE HELL ARE YOU to write that letter? Who the hell are you to send such drivel to someone you don’t even know. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO ME?”
As expected, she tried to defend her actions and didn’t really understand where I was coming from, but my intention wasn’t to get her to change her mind about me. The most worthwhile part of the conversation was when I told her how much she offended me by criticizing my parenting.
“You don’t get it, do you? Mallory is my Magnum Opus and you’re nothing but an art critic who can’t even finger paint. You don’t GET to critique me. That’s not your job.”
It didn’t get much better from there, but it was a moment that I’ll never forget because I learned that I am stronger than I originally thought. I learned that when it’s important, I can make the hard choice to confront those who require it. I learned that I am not a pushover or the person who is willing to lie down and become the doormat for life for either the people who’ve wronged me or the people who support them.
When I asked Mallory if I could write about it as a cathartic exercise and wondered what her feelings were she admitted that she read it years ago and said that if it helped anyone else to read that I should do it. Tomorrow, I will publish the letter I wrote back and never sent.
April 15, 2008 @ 7:42 pm | Filed under I Sent You A Letter, NaBloPoMo | Permalink |
Angella Said,
April 15, 2008 @ 8:19 pm
Oh, sweetie.
I truly feel your pain.
We left our three kids with their Grandma and Grandpa for a week when we went to Mexico.
We came back, picked up the kids, and came home.
The moment we walked in the door, my husband’s brother called to express that our kids were the WORST HE HAS EVER SEEN (My oldest is FIVE. His oldest is TWO.)
Our parenting skills were called into question.
Grandpa than called and stated his concerns.
People who KNOW US and LIVE HERE think our kids are PRETTY FREAKING AMAZING.
I completely feel your pain.
xoxo
Mocha Momma Said,
April 15, 2008 @ 8:23 pm
Gawd. Angella! I struggled so much with writing this. I even started to write that in the preface, but decided against it. Thanks for the reassurance. Blessings.
Elizabeth Said,
April 15, 2008 @ 8:31 pm
“I learned that I am not a pushover or the person who is willing to lie down and become the doormat for life for either the people who’ve wronged me or the people who support them.”
She inadvertently gave you a beautiful gift. And that’s a part of you that we all admire. *hugs*
Tricia Said,
April 15, 2008 @ 10:15 pm
I think it is best that you not show your loyal readers a copy of the letter from the MIL- because we might have to hunt her down and place that crease in her cranium for you- even now, years later!
Yeah, my raging alcoholic father who was not an active parent in my life, other to be a presence (drunk) to tiptoe around, yell at me or hit and kick me or my siblings- tried to tell me all the reasons that lesbians should not have kids…most importantly because they need a father. Then when our oldest son was just out of toddlerhood he took him to the park, sober, and arrived home, drunk- did I mention he drove him to the park. Niiiice.
Some people really shouldn’t give advice.
Yolanda Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 8:41 am
The absolute NERVE of that woman. I’d be shaking in anger from the sheer ignorant gall of such a letter. Good for you not behaving, can’t wait to see that letter (though I’m with Tricia, I might want to slap somebody down for daring to insult my Mocha Momma and her innocent child like that!)
Cyndi Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 8:44 am
I think most Mothers who have suffered and/or benefitted from a divorce have expereienced a similiar situation. People who have no right to criticize, or question can bring pain beyond compare. I learned along time ago to not listen. I taught my daughters that to live well is the best revenge. Ten years later and I just don’t believe it - I know it and my daughters prove it. I have never had to say a word - they live it with their beauty, caring and strength. Those who cannot see it - I do not see.
White Hot Magik Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 9:05 am
“Don’t forget that women, especially, have a terrible problem that prevents them from ever getting anywhere, Kelly. They are always running around trying to get other women behave. She wants you to BEHAVE and keep your daughter out of her daughter’s life.”
Wow your friend is smart.
Heather B. Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 3:00 pm
I would like to be you when I grow up.
Mocha Momma Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 3:16 pm
I plan on publishing the letter *I* wrote back to her. Her letter? Ppppfffttt. Not giving her the space.
Heather, there is an open interview process going on right now! You’re in luck!
trayday Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 8:18 pm
I was 12 years old when Mocha’s magnum opus came into being and manifested into the beautiful human being that she is today. That time, in my own memory, was strange; the young, pretty girl is pregnant - oohhh controversy, whispers, stares, blah blah. Simultaneously, look at this beautiful, pretty, sweet baby we have in our lives!
Mocha, despite the bullshit that came with being a single-teenage mother, continued her academic endeavors, served as class VP & countless other extracurricular crap, crowned homecoming queen (as a young mother, mind you) and graduates at the top of her class, to go on to college as a young mother - just her and mini magnum…
And I remember that day very much. I remember her apartment in family housing, and I remember leaving that day with my mom, and feeling so scared for, yet so proud of, my sister. She had amazed me thus far! damn.
And she always rose to the occasion, and this bad-ass chick graduated in 4 years… it took me 5 (with no kid)!
And she went on to marry my adorable brother-in-law & nurture a family that is such a beautiful representation of love and closeness and humor and craziness. Good peoples…
So, yeah, screw that lady. She doesn’t even measure up to you, Mocha. She won’t. even. ever. GET you.
You, sister, are the embodiment of God’s imagination. Beautiful. Funny. Smart. Curious. Passionate. Humble. Honest. Loyal. Loving. You are what so many should aspire to be.
Mocha’s great. You all know that if you’re reading this. So just imagine what it feels like to have been witness to this lifetime of overcoming challenges to see ultimate success. You’re creation Mocha, and yours alone, is graduating a talented artist and designer bound for greatness.
I mean what. What lady…what the hell do YOU have to say about THIS? GO KICK BRICKS.
trayday Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 8:23 pm
PS. I am not the proper-English-major-grammar-cop that Mocha is, so sorry if I shame you with my jacked up grammar sister.
Also, I’ve had my requisite three glasses of white wine this evening, so there you go…
Mocha Momma » Catharsis Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 8:45 pm
[...] Magnum Opus, Bitch [...]
Suebob Said,
April 16, 2008 @ 9:07 pm
I have been in your presence a total of maybe 6 hours? And I already KNOW not to piss you off. I bet that woman did not know what hit her.
Dana Said,
April 17, 2008 @ 9:11 pm
I would have been hopping mad myself. It’s so out of line for that woman to do such a thing. It’s people like her, the ones who can’t see past their own noses, that really annoy the hell out of me.