“Ah, but nobody ever said life was fair, Tina. I’m bigger and I’m faster. I will always beat you.” This quote was something my mom always told me after she had me watch the movie Mommie Dearest countless times. She told me to always remember that, that she will always beat me at everything even when I’m older, and life will forever be unfair. At five years old I didn’t quite get it, I thought she was joking because the quote was just from a movie. She looked serious though when she told me that so I believed it for the most part.
This whole post isn’t going to be me comparing my mom to Joan Crawford. I just felt that this comparison would make a good first impression of my mother to others. So you all can kind of already have an idea of how my mom is and what my future posts will be about. There is so much to tell about how I grew up, what I went through with my siblings, and how at 29 years old with four kids I still have to deal with my mommie dearest.
I had to grow up too fast because of my mom. She taught me how to feed and change my baby sister when I was two, simply because she wanted to live her life the way she did before having the two of us. Selfish. She was and still is just so selfish. How can any mother expect a two year old to take care of a baby and herself. There I was having to try and put a diaper on my sister and then having to change my own.
Now I know that this all seems a bit too unbelievable, because for one how is a two year old capable of caring for a baby when she’s a baby herself? For two, how could this baby remember any of that? What if it was just a dream that seemed like that’s what happened? There’s no possible way a child at that age could remember something like that.
I have impeccable memory, which is great but not so great. I’m not a fan of remembering so many things that have happened in my life. My mom doesn’t believe I have a good memory only because here and there growing up I would tell her different things I remembered that were bad and she didn’t want to believe that happened and told me that I either made it up or it was a bad dream.
I needed to stop telling “made up” stories to people because her and my dad would get in trouble and my siblings and I would get taken away and we’d all never see each other again. They weren’t made up stories, none of them were. I never told anyone these so called “made up” stories, so her being so worried about what would happen if I did say something made it very clear to me that everything I remembered is real, it did happen, and it could get my dad and her in a lot of trouble.
Now, with reading just a bit of my start in life as her daughter, how much worse do you think mommie dearest gets as I get older? Or does she just stop being mommie dearest for good?
Mommie Dearest 