Bleh.

Complaints and head-worms … general bitching that has to go somewhere, but isn’t that interesting.

When I had my first kid, my adoptive mother said two things that still irritate me.

“How could you give it away?” and “I’m glad I never had to go through that!”

Yeah, he’s 18 in September. I never claimed to be mature.

When they were looking at adopting, my adoptive father was completely against adopting a boy. Not because he wanted a girl, but because he didn’t want his name passed on to a boy who wasn’t related to him.

During our final bust-up, she said “You’re an embarrassment, and belong in Port Noarlunga South”.

Port Noarlunga South is a somewhat lower-socio-economic area, and where my birth family lived when I first met them.

Whenever I was doing something “not quite acceptable” to the family, such as listening to loud music, wearing a lot of black, or generally being a bit of a bogan, “that might be acceptable to that lot in Port Noarlunga South, but we don’t do that kind of thing” was thrown around a lot.

“Any slapper can give birth, but it takes a real woman to be a mother!”

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