Man Kicks His Mom Out of His Son's Birthday Party [Story of the Day]
A man who was estranged from his mother invites her to his little one-year-old son's birthday party only to have her show up with his ex-girlfriend's child.
I was in love with a wonderful girl whom I believed love me. When Sharon told me she was pregnant, I was over the moon, and so was my mother, who had been longing for a grandchild.
The day that child was born was the happiest of my life. I had a son. I doted on that kid. I'd get up in the middle of the night just to watch him sleep. My girlfriend Sheryl and I were talking about getting married when my world fell apart.
The boy was nine months old when a girlfriend of Sheryl's she was having a fight with called me and told me the woman I thought of as my future wife had had an affair. The time period she referred to was the approximate time the boy was conceived.
I confronted Sheryl and she admitted everything. She kept crying and telling me she'd made a mistake and that she loved me. I demanded a paternity test, and the results nearly destroyed me. The boy wasn't mine.
I walked away from Sheryl and that boy, and I vowed never to see either of them again. My mother, instead of taking my side, kept in touch with Sheryl and continued referring to the boy as her grandson.
I was furious. How could she? Sheryl had cheated on me, put a cuckoo in the nest, made e believe the boy was mine, made me love him. How could my mother do this. She just told me that the child wasn't to blame and that there was more to love than blood.
I couldn't take it, I cut off all contact with my mother. She had made her choice, and she'd chosen that cheater Sheryl and her little bastard. Not long after my mother and I were estranged I met a new girl, Odette.
Maybe it was a bit of a rebound romance, but she turned out to be the right girl for me. We moved in together, and two years later we were talking about starting a family. In the meantime, my brother Jack kept nagging me about my mom.
He said she loved me, and kept asking about me. I told Jack that while she had Sheryl's runny-nosed bastard in her life I was out. Jack told me I was being harsh and we ended up having a huge argument.
So, anyway, before long Odette was pregnant and when the doctor told us it was a boy I was delighted. The pregnancy ran smoothly and our boy Harry was born hale and healthy.
That was when Jack started talking about my mom meeting Harry. I told him she had to stop seeing Sheryl and the boy, but Jack said he was now four years old and called my mother granny.
I told him no. This turned into a running argument that went on for nearly a year until Harry's first birthday party. Odette and I were planning a huge celebration, with her family and mine, and all our friends.
A week before the party, Jack and my favorite aunt, May, held an "intervention" and begged me to let my mother come to the party and let her meet Harry and Odette. Jack told my mother had cut off contact with Sheryl, that she was desperate for a reconciliation.
Odette joined in and I finally agreed to allow my mother to come to the party. I was in for quite a shock. I knee-deep in a mass of toddlers, handing out toys and party favors when I saw Jack looking dead white and waving at me.
I walked over and asked him what was happening. He said: "It's mom. She's here. I'm sorry, she promised me..."
I brushed past my brother and walked to the front of the house and saw my mother walking up the driveway with a blond boy, about four or five years old. I felt like I'd just had my guts kicked. My mother had brought that boy to my son's birthday.
I walked up to her and just screamed: "GET OUT! You liar! Get out! You don't deserve to be here! GET OUT!"
My mother was shocked, I could see she had expected some big sentimental scene. She was dead white and started shaking, and the boy started crying and clinging to her legs and saying "Granny, granny."
"Please," she cried, "Please, Will, I just wanted you to see...Dylan is not to blame, he's just a child...And he loves you."
"LOVES ME?" I screamed, "He's nothing to me, nothing!"
"You are the only father he knows about, he keeps a photo of you with him in his arms on his bedside, he's always asking about you. Please, Will!"
"What about his REAL father? Get Sheryl to introduce them!"
My mother had tears in her eyes. "He doesn't want anything to do with Dylan, Will. Please..."
"Get out," I told her coldly, "Don't come back. Ever."
She left, but as you can imagine most of the party witnessed the spectacle. I was even angrier when Jack berated me for screaming at my mother and running her off. Even Odette told me quietly: "Will, did you see that little boy's face? I think you need to think about it.
I couldn't stop thinking about it, didn't they realize that? That night I got up and went to Harry's bedroom and watched my boy sleep. For the first time, I allowed myself to remember doing the same with the other boy, the boy I'd thought was my son.
Tears started pouring down my face. I'd loved that boy, I now admitted to myself, just as much as I love Harry. Knowing he wasn't mine, losing that connection had been the worse moment of my life.
My anger was my attempt to deny that love, to deny that I loved the boy, I loved Dylan. Despite his mother's betrayal, my love for Dylan had been real. Then I felt Odette beside me, her arms around me. "It's OK, Will, he's your boy too, and it's time you let him back into your life."
I called my mother, I called Sheryl. Dylan and my mom are coming over on Sunday. My mother is coming to meet her grandson and Dylan is coming to meet his dad.
I'd loved that boy so much, watched over him, loved him just as much as if he'd been my own flesh and blood. Denying him had broken my heart but now I realize what my mother had known all along, that being a family is more than biology, it's about love.
Any resemblance in this story to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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