Returning home full and with divorce papers in hand, I was greeted by the usual chaos of the living room and Caitlyn's loud complaints about her video game.
"Come on! You moron! Don't you know how to play?!"
My entry startled her, and she snapped in her usual demanding tone, "Get me a glass of water."
I acted as if I hadn't heard, plotting my next steps for recovery.
Gazing at my rehab plan, a newfound resolve sprouted within me. Fetching water was a maid's job, not mine. I'm her mom.
My disregard infuriated her. She slammed her half-eaten chicken on the table and lashed out,
"You cripple! What, you can't hear now either?!"
"I'm talking to you! Are you deaf?!"
I spread my hands wide, showing I was truly done meddling. She still seemed to think these were tasks a mom should take care of.
Tasks a mom should take care of.
Indeed, Caitlyn tends to put on weight easily, even a sip of water seems to do it.
In my previous life, I went all out to keep her diet balanced and her figure slim, scouring every cookbook and even studying nutrition.
Yet, all those efforts were twisted into accusations of abuse by her.