Today started out like any other Saturday morning. I was awoken by the sound of my neighbors playing their drums at 9:30, so I got up and read some Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for a while. Around 11 I got hungry and went downstairs for a bite to eat. There I met my {Mom} and I could already tell she was in one of her moods. I made myself some spaghetti and by that time {Dylan} had wandered in, looking for food. Mom began criticizing the way he got the bowl out of the cupboard (“Ask Erin to move first before you open the door on her head!”) and finally we all settled down to eat. {Brittani} appeared as I was finishing my spaghetti and she started heating up the remainder of my meal for her lunch. I let out a burp on my way out of the kitchen and made a joke about saying “Excuse me.”

Almost as soon as I was upstairs in my room, I heard my mom yelling at Brittani and Dylan and subsequently her footsteps heading to the staircase. I got up and went down to see what was wrong. When I met my mom on the staircase she simply shouted that she was “tired, frustrated and sick of this!” Knowing I would be unable to get a straight answer out of her, I went to the kitchen to find Brittani and Dylan in tears. Brittani told me that after I left my Mom started on a tirade, calling us all pigs (apparently in reaction to my belching). This really angered me, seeing as it’s nothing to yell at the kids over and especially not to yell at them to the point of making them cry. So I set off upstairs to talk to my mom about this whole business and that’s when the fun began.

Once I got to her room, she was changing and I asked to talk to her. I told her that she really shouldn’t have yelled at the kids, knowing that this outburst had nothing to do with bad manners or anything any of us had done, but the fact that she is under more stress lately than she can probably handle. I told her that it wasn’t the kids’ fault that all of this was happening and she shouldn’t take it out on them. She then started screaming at me about their horrible attitudes, lack of gratitude to my mom for taking them in, called them ingrates (that’s when I really started to get mad) and a slew of other horrible things.

I looked at her, dumbfounded. How could she say all these things about her grandchildren whom she loves? Then we really got into it and I told her that if they had a bad attitude, it was probably in reaction to my mom’s constant criticism, continual attitude that these kids were a thorn in her side and her failure to ever give them any indication that she was happy to have them here with us.

This really set her off and I don’t even remember what was said after this. She told me to get out of her room and leave her alone, but I refused and told her that I wanted to help her. When I was fifteen and seventeen, I got along with my mother about as well as oil gets along with water. I remember feeling like nothing I did was adequate enough for her, like the only thing I wanted to do was be out of her sight so I wouldn’t have to endure the constant baseless criticism. She wouldn’t listen to me and kept telling me to shut up, get out and I kept refusing. Finally, she told me to get out of her house.

At this I stormed off and attempted to slam the door in her face, but I shut it with such force it bounced back at her; I’m surprised it didn’t break altogether. I went into my room, started getting dressed and wondering if I should get a few things together to be away from the house for a couple days, all while crying and trying to decide where to go. At this point unbeknownst to me, Mom went into {Amber} and Brittani’s room where Amber was still asleep and shouted at her to get up. She then went downstairs, got in her car and took off. I left shortly after she did, leaving the kids scared out of their wits after the screaming match Mom and I just had.

Once in my car I called my {Dad} because he was grocery shopping while all this took place. I told him what happened rather incoherently between sobs while I drove aimlessly around my neighborhood. He told me to calm down, go home and he would be there as soon as he checked out. After that I went home and apologised to the kids for leaving, told them my dad would be home soon and that everything would be alright. Brittani and Dylan were still crying and Amber had no idea what was going on, my brother {Chris} didn’t either.

A few minutes later my dad came home and talked to us. I was glad he let the kids know that none of this was their fault because I’m sure Brittani was placing all the blame on her shoulders. He assured us he would talk to my mom once she turned up and told me that unfortunately, my mom probably won’t listen to anything I tell her because I’m the youngest child in our family.

So that was a couple hours ago and she still isn’t back, but she called collect about fifteen minutes ago wanting to talk to my dad. I’m wondering if I should get some stuff together and leave for a few days, or maybe even consider moving in with Mike. Hmmm.