I know I keep saying it….
…but my family truly are insane.
I went home for my nephew’s 21st birthday celebration. It was so obviously done for the rest of family, and not for him, with family going for lunch in a local pub, then back to my sister’s house for friends to come round.
It was okay, I suppose, but I get so annoyed with my family making out he is a victim all the time. When me and nephew did get some time to talk on our own, he discussed it with me, said how his old counsellor used to say that part of his problem has been the way the family always manipulate him.
For example - he is away at university, living in a shared house with 6 other blokes. My mom has repeatedly said, in a really tragic voice, with her fake sympathetic face on, “What a bloody shame for him, you know he only had 6 birthday cards to open on his actual birthday?” In what world do they live in? I know very few blokes who do birthday cards - that is just life. But I know they have said that to him, so he now feels that somehow what he does is wrong because he didn’t have piles of birthday cards.
The fact his housemates all clubbed together and got him a present, and there is a proper party planned for later this week (they couldn’t have the party last week because they all had assignments to hand in, plus nephew had to get up for 9 o’clock to give a presentation). He doesn’t sound like that much of a victim to me!
Then, when I turned up on Saturday, my dad announced that I would be driving him and my mom to the pub in his car, seeing as he still can’t drive after his broken wrist. Great. I hadn’t been drinking the night before because I would be getting up early and driving to see them, now I got lumbered with driving duties. “That’s okay, I’ll drive to the pub, but when we get to sister’s, I am going to be drinking, and we can walk back. I’ll go and pick up the car on Sunday.”
My parents then proceeded to get pissed as farts - to the extent that my dad actually couldn’t walk, and then they were both affronted when I wouldn’t drive them home (after consuming a whole bottle of wine myself). Luckily my brother in law had only had one drink, so he took us home, but I am so annoyed.
It was also irritating about my dad. I don’t mind he was drunk - I’ve seen friends in a lot worse state than that - but I can’t stand the lying the next day. He is adamant he wasn’t that drunk, he was fine. I got up in the night to go to the loo, and I could smell alcohol vomit. The airing cupboard door was half open, where the cleaning stuff was kept. Yet there was indignant denial that he was sick. For god’s sake, just admit it and we can all move on, at the moment I have this lasting irritation that he is just a big fat liar!