Last night, Gary and I found ourselves being lectured to by preachers in Hickville. How did we end up in such a fortuitous position? We were there to watch the three oldest kids in their church musical, then to see Dove’s pre-school graduation, which was also held in a church (gotta start brainwashing them young so it sticks).
The fact that so much of the kids’ activities revolve around church is nauseating. There is a massive difference between (a) genuinely teaching children to be good people and (b) teaching kids that lying, cheating, and being general assholes is okay as long as you plop your ass into a church pew a few times a week like Crow (their egg donr) and her parents and put on a show of being decent people. The kids’ Hickville “role models” teach them plenty of hypocricy all on their own. They don’t need reinforcements from the church or anywhere else.
Before Dove’s pre-school graduation, the opportunity of having a captive audience was not missed, and of course we were preached to yet again. I flipped through a hymnal and held Bear’s hand during the endless rambling, but part of it caught my ears: the preacher said that you can’t teach children not to lie, if you lie all the time yourself. I couldn’t help looking dead at Crow and laughing out loud.
Not that it matters. She is well aware she is a liar, and she is well aware that she hurts the kids. She simply doesn’t care. So I am sure the preacher’s words dripped right off her wrinkly back, with no impact at all, since her broad ass spreading across that pew was all just a performance anyway: a performance of the dutiful daughter so her parents keep paying her bills, the doting single mommy so the general public keeps clicking its tongue in sympathy, the upright Christian so her abuse of the children remains in shadows by those too ignorant to open their eyes.
Church is a great place for liars to hide, and Crow and her parents flock to it, bowing their heads and pretending the lying, stealing (literally, in Little Miss Felony’s case), and rampant vulgarities of their daily lives don’t exist so long as they fold their hands, utter a few amen’s, and toss enough nickels into the collection basket.
Unfortunately, for the children it exists every day, every moment of their lives, and they are drowning in the fecid poison of their mother’s poor choices, selfishness, and immaturity. Watching the hypocritical performances of Crow and her parents last night left me wondering how the kids are even still standing. They are confused, angry, scared, and have no idea what is real, right, wrong, up, or down anymore. They are lied to, told to lie, get in trouble for not lying enough. They are encouraged by their father and me to stand up for what is right, then told by their own mother that the truth is whatever she says it is. They are put down so they continually doubt themselves and never stand up on their own two feet.
Crow won’t be happy until the children are as pathetic and void of integrity as she is. Why dragging your own children down and clawing them to pieces is so much fun is beyond me. I hold onto hope that the kids will rise above the obstacles their mother slings in front of them. But I long ago let go of hope that their mother will ever rise above the ground-slithering level where she chooses to be. She has wallowed in her own filth a long time and thoroughly enjoys it.
Maybe, while clutching her hooves together in fake prayer last night, she actually prayed for help being a better mother, a better person, a better parent.
But….I sincerely doubt it.