When psychiatrists blame all your issues on your mother they could be onto something. My mother is a textbook case.
A little bit of background on my mother.
At a very young age, I realized my mother was very different from all the other mothers. She was exuberant, elegant, and very social. At church, all the men seemed to go out of their way to speak to her. When I was young, I recall her frequently going out evenings alone without my father. She was always dressed fashionably and well even sexy now that I think of it. I was always told it was for a lady's group or some other church function. I remember being home with my father many evenings when my mom was out and about.
As much as she was a social butterfly she was dearly lacking in parenting skills. She was not the nurturing type and certainly did not spend any more time with me than she had to. I recall my father being more of a caregiver than my mother. My mother seemed to have other priorities.
My mother came from a non-religious family. We never had anything to do with my mother's side of the family. The few times I met them, I knew they were wildly different and nothing like the church people I was groomed to associate with. My father sheltered me and my siblings from her side of the family.
Physically, my mother was very attractive. I was told this by people all the time. She was a fiery redhead. She was always fashionably dressed and very flirty. She was the life of the party.
Of course, being a child she was just my mom. As I got into my teens and beyond, I began to pick up on little things.
There were two traumatic events in my life regarding my mother that opened my eyes and made me realize what was going on. This is a recount of the first event.
The summer I was nineteen my father announced that we would be boarding a member of a Scottish church choir that was touring our region. He told us that the person staying with us would a man and that he would sleep in the basement on the pull-out couch. I objected as the basement was my domain but I was over-ruled, besides it was just for a week. I didn't really care or give it much thought as I pictured it being some old nerdy guy that lived with his mother. I mean what kind of man sings in a church choir.
About a month later, I came home for dinner, and to my surprise, there was this young hot looking guy sitting at the table. I was pleasantly surprised but confused. Who's this? Why is he here? I had completely forgotten about the church choir guest we were hosting.
I was taken aback by his good looks as I fumbled for words. He had gorgeous blue eyes that made my heart skip a beat.
"April, this is Liam from Scotland and he was going to be staying with us for the week," my mother said with a big grin on her face.
Good looking was an understatement. He was a few years older than me, had long hair and a tattoo. He looked like he just stepped off the cover of Rolling Stone. He belonged in a rock band, not a church choir. He also had a sexy Scottish accent. I was floored. I don't think I ever smiled so much at family dinner. This was going to be a fun week.
I was dating a guy at the time but he had nothing on Liam. Liam became my number one priority that week as I quickly became unavailable to my boyfriend.
During the first few days he was with us, I really didn't see him much. My parents both worked and I had a summer job. Liam had a full schedule with choir engagements in the evening and practice during the day. Just the same, as soon I returned home from work, I changed into sexy skimpy outfits. It was summer so I wore the most flimsy sexy tops I could find, with no bra of course. Always in short shorts or skirts. The little time that I saw Liam I always made a point to tease and flirt with him. I caught him looking at me a few times. I knew I had piqued his interest.
However, I also noticed that my mother was very attentive towards Liam. Maybe overly attentive? She too was more dressed up than usual. I think I saw more of my mother's cleavage that week than I had ever seen. She was continually touching him in a playful manner. She was all over him, but that was just what my mother was like. She has always been a very touchy person, so I put it down to her being a good host.