Anyways, things proceed here as per normal. Liv is waiting to hear back from all the colleges she's applied to and is nervous. She turns 18 in January, which has me a little freaked out.
Thom has been wonderful in every way taking care of me since the eviction of the organ formally known as my uterus.
I'm feeling much better--I have issues with fatigue and soreness still (which is why I got another week out of the doctor.) but that's to be expected after major surgery and the complications I dealt with.
Tried on a dress today at Old Navy and the (extremely unflattering) lights there made me able to see the full extent of my scar. I had a midline incision up my abdomen which goes for quite a bit and I have the staple marks too. Not pretty, but still better than having that bitch of a uterus.
Mom is still with the current boyfriend since July. He hasn't asked her for money, dumped her at a Chinese buffett, or felt up and/or made suggestions to shower with any of her grandchildren. Sadly, this is a vast improvement over her last 6 boyfriends since last September--minus one. That Ken guy was nice.
Let's see here. Last time we talked about mom, she'd taken a header down Rational Sister's stairs, got her leg caught in the wrought iron and had a chunk of her leg torn out. That was right before Labor Day 2011. That was right after her asshole boyfriend of the time threw her out of his condo and dumped her at a Chinese restuarant for telling him that the grandchildren did not want to shower with him, and that it was not normal to ask.
Well, she didn't take her antibiotics and ended up in the hospital and almost lost her leg. During this time period, the three sisters and their husbands and Liv (who is now included in the adult conversations--very interesting) got together and made some decisions for her. Dickhead boyfriend had her sell everything she had except for the stuff he liked, give her car to Liv (since it was not 'safe' enough for her, and she could drive his 'spare' car). She was set to retire and they were going to travel--on his dime.
So she was left without a pot to piss in. We found a place for her to live--a nice little apartment that was newly renovated. We got her some furniture. We picked up what was left of her stuff from dickhead. (When I say he was creepy, I mean he was creepy. Liv and my 13 year old nephew went to help them move into their new place and by the time they were done, Liv refused to leave my nephew in the same room with him and he refused to leave her side. This is the cousin that really never spoke to her after he turned 8. The asshole took them to lunch and then yelled at my mother in the restuarant for cutting up his meat the wrong way. Then he kept trying to lure my nephew into other rooms or to the pool or to the shower. Liv texted me, texted my sisters, and then took him home directly to his mother and reported on said creepy behavior in great detail) (This guy was also trying to set up my 16 year old (at the time) daughter with his 24 year old son-"He's a lawyer! He'll be so good to her! You and me and Connor can head up to visit him, Liv. We don't need to take your grandmother. She thinks like a woman, Liv. You're different. You think like a MAN."
No, you think like a fucking pervert, you dickhead. She's fucking SIXTEEN. Does your son know you think he's a borderline pedophile? Dickhead.)
But I digress. Mother was still in the hospital when we moved her in. As Rational Sister said, "I don't care if she's dead. She's moving in here. If we have to wheel her in and tip her out of the chair, she's in."
So--here's the picture. Mom laid up. Hugeass hole in her leg. Unable to walk too far or do too much. Heart broken by ex-potential pedo-confirmed-dickhead-boyfriend. What do you with your spare time? Me, I read fanfic. Her, she hits the internet dating sites.
Liv and I came by the next Saturday. I'd stopped at the store for her to get her groceries (much to Thom's irritation. I was doing this out of my pocket, as I did with her household supplies, new DVD player and some other things. He was... not pleased)
So we get there and we find her larking around the apartment with the vacuum thingie on her leg (it has a part you can put over your shoulder like a purse). And there on the dining room table was a bouquet of two dozen red roses. There was another bouquet on the TV table and a third one visible in her bedroom.
"Mom, those are pretty. Who sent you those?"
"Aren't they gorgeous! Harold (?--can't remember exactly, there have been so many) sent them to me."
"Who's Harold?" I asked.
"Oh, he's a jewelery designer in Massachusetts. I met him online."
"Last week. Well, last Thursday actually."
"You met him online nine days ago and he sent you six dozen roses?" Liv asked this one because my mouth is paralizyed when my eyebrows go up that far.
"Yes! And he says he loves me, and he wants to come down and meet me and he knows that I want marriage and a man to financially support me and he's okay with that! Let me show you these in the bedroom!"
And as she turned her back to us, Liv and I looked at each other and I know you know the look we had on our faces because I know you have it too right now. Except add that Liv also was making the "Psycho" knife motion and noise quietly so she couldn't hear it. Mom turned around and Liv stopped in mid-stab motion to coyly brush her hair off her face with the same motion instead.
I had to continue. "But mom, you met a guy online, and you gave him your real name and your phone number and your PHYSICAL ADDRESS??? That's not safe! You don't know anything about him!"
"Oh, I do too! We video chat every night!" She blushed here. "Sometimes it's naughty. Very naughty."
"Mom, you'd better have a fucking world class rack to get six dozen roses for a tit flash."
::pause:: "I do."
At this point Liv is curled up in a fetal position, sucking her thumb and wishing she were dead. Mother, of course, does not see the obvious emotional damage she is inflicting on her granddaughter and continues, "He says he wants to design jewelery around the color of my eyes."
"Mom, you've known the guy online for 9 days, talked dirty with him, flashed your tits and gave him your physical address. He's said he loves you after 9 days. For Christ's sake, third graders know better. You don't know if he's a serial killer or something. For all you know, when he says he wants to design jewelry around your eyes, it means he wants to drive down here and make jewelery out of your ACTUAL EYEBALLS."
She giggled. "Oh, no. He's not like that. We've made a connection."
"Getting off together over the computer is not a connection."
Of course, it was not worth talking to her about it so we moved onto other things.
I came over the next Saturday with groceries and the roses and vases were gone and her mood was not as sunny. "How's Harold?"
"Oh, he's gone. He's over. He's a scam artist!"
"Really? Shocking." She failed to hear the sarcasm in my voice.
"I KNOW. He told me he was going to Nigeria to get some supplies for his jewelry making business" (At this point I already knew the end to this story. Nigeria. Natch.) "And he was driving down the street and a little girl ran in front of his car and he hit her and killed her. She was revived at the scene and at the hosptial the doctor told him that he would have to pay for her medical care because he did not have a Nigerian driver's license and he could go to jail if they reported him. And he says he told them that's fine, he was going to do it anyway and gave them his credit card and the doctor said, "We do not take credit cards here. We need cash." And then he asked me to wire him $5,000.00."
"And you told him?"
"I told him the truth! I told him that I didn't have any money and that I'd told him that up front. You know what he said? He said, 'Don't you love me? I sent you flowers!'."
She huffed and puffed for a while and then said, "I shouldn't be too surprised. The last guy I met on that site did the same thing."