Sunday, August 25, 2013

Whose Really The Adult?

      "Let the games begin," a line I've heard way to much in my life time. My mother always thought of things as games even though she would never show it. Every childish thing I've tried to get rid out of she would force it back into my hands. I'd walk into the room of a girl with curly black hair. A girl who was a spitting imagine of me and would ask the same question I would always find myself being asked. "Want to play a game like when did when you were a child?" I'd always give in to her begging and pleading, but it gets old. I'd say no and then she'd have a tantrum, screaming and throwing things around. "YOU DON'T LOVE ME!" That line, that strikes me the hardest as I always tried to turn and escape. The girl would cling to me, dragging me back. I couldn't escape and every time I tried to, the screaming child would make sure I couldn't.
"I never remembered mom being this way," I confessed to my dad on the way home from a friend's house. Mom had winded up having a jealous rage about me going to a friend's house and requested, no, more forced, dad to pick me and my friend up. He just shrugged and stayed quiet like normal on my rants. My friend sat in the back texting. I couldn't understand; I wasn't suppose to stay at her house but she could come over and hang out with both me and my mom? I crossed my arms, pulling into the drive away. "She never has gotten this upset before. Because I planned to go to a friend's house when she wasn't home? She normally isn't even home! She has fun with her friends and now I can't? She's acting like a brat!" Dad just shook his head, laughing a little. I knew he agreed, he just didn't want to get involved. And go figure, her car wasn't even there once we got home.
When mom did decide to come home, it was a few days later. Me and my friend were chilling on the sofa as my dad was explaining to us that he was taking the TV, the Packer game was on. We knew how the football system worked in my house, so we got up and left to my room. "Football is more important then who's sleeping with who," according to Dad, we watch pointless crap like that. Mom entered the house running to her room. She kicked her shoes off in the hallway and before dad could bellow, I picked them up and placed them in the shoe box. "Football, Football, Football," My mom chanted skipping into the room giggling. I looked at my friend, she looked at me and we rolled our eyes in unison. Mom grabbed her 'lucky' football helmet and ran into my room. "Touch the magic football helmet so we win the game!" I raised my eye brow. My friend refused and mom started fusing. "You have to or they won't win!" She whined. I looked at her and mouthed to my friend, "Just amuse her." My friend sighed and poked it with her finger and I played along placing a hand on it. She squealed and headed off to watch the game.
"THEY GOT A TOUCH DOWN?!?!?!?!" I heard mom screech from the living room while hanging with my friend in my room. I really was used to her screaming during football games so thought nothing of it. My friend seemed concerned but I just told her to ignore it. That was until we heard an interesting noise. We left my room and entered the hall to find mom having a tantrum and her foot had gone through the dry wall. We stared at her shocked but the thing was, our team was still winning. I couldn't help but crack up with laughter. Her face was a ruby red and her eyes red from crying. Her arms crossed and she was stomping her feet on the ground. My friend joined in my laughter when my mother said, "don't talk to me for the next eight months.. I'm going to be depressed." She walked into her room and locked the door. "It's just a game." I sighed talking through the door and she just screamed leave me alone. I blinked a bit surprised.. I felt like a mother taking care of a child.

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Question: What is your relationship with your parents? Do you relate to this character?

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