The Worst Week Ever

(Remember that these are fictional stories based on real events. This blogg is a place for the author's drafts, proofreading will take place at a future date, the author is completely aware of the need for editing and revision)
There are not too many specific dates that I remember, but I will never be able to forget the most horrible week of my life. The week of Oct 3 1988 was when my sister Marne was born. Although Marne has made all of our lives a little more complicated, she was not my reason for despair during these specific days. The source of my regularly reoccurring nightmare for the past 20 years was my dad. When my mom found out that she was going to have a 5th child she immediately decided that she needed a little R&R. She also decided that the best way to take this R&R would be to have a C section instead of a traditional delivery so that she would have a few extra days in the hospital. Yes, my mom was desperate and this was, as she saw it, her only way out.
My dad was a nice guy, he just had some unique ideas that didn’t make sense to anybody else, this uniqueness made it difficult for me to live with Dad without having Mom as a buffer.
The first night started out okay until Alex had to go to the bathroom. Alex was four and supposedly recently potty trained, but apparently he still did not understand the entire concept of a toilet.
“Bryan!” Dad yelled, “come and get this thing off of your brother.”
“I came into the living room assuming that Alex had just stuck the mop bucket on his head again, but as soon as I rounded the corner, my recently healed nose told me that I had my work cut out for me. I did not want to get involved in cleaning Alex up, but I knew better than to defy my dad, there would be no forgiveness for such an act.
“Alex, come over here buddy,” I leeringly coaxed.
He could tell from the look in my eyes what I was up to and he ran for it. Andy and Dallin helped me chase him down and corner him in the back of the laundry room.
“Andy you hold his hands up in the air while Dallin holds his legs and I’ll get these dirty pants off,” I said in a less than motivated tone.
As soon as I had started Alex broke free of Dallin’s grip and kicked him in the head. Dallin went down hard and took the laundry soap with him. Struggling to get back on his feet, Dallin regained control of Alex’s flailing leg and we completed the dirty procedure. I threw the filthy pants in the washer and opened the bathroom door where my dad was waiting to squirt Alex down with a hose he had fashioned to the tub. After two minutes of Alex screaming and Dad yelling, Dad came out to scold us for the mess we had made in the laundry room.
“What’s for dinner Dad?” Dallin boldly asked at about 10 that night. We were starving and hoping that Dad had accomplished enough of his projects that he would be in a good mood and would be feeling generous enough to feed us. He ended up getting out some 50 year old Army Surplus instant dinners. They had great names like “Chicken Ala King,” but the brown and dark green packaging made them look just like they tasted, stale.
“This food will put hair on your chest, its not like the wimpy stuff Mom feeds you, plus its cheap,” Dad told us matter of factly.
As anyone can tell by looking at Andy’s chest, back and ears, he loved the stuff, he ate his share as well as everybody else’s. Once dinner was finished it was time to do the dishes for the day. Dad had us haul all of the dishes into the bathroom and load up the tub.
“Dad didn’t we just clean off Alex in here?” I timidly questioned.
“This is powerful cold water, if you can’t see it, it’s not dirty,” my dad answered.
The dishes were loaded and my dad spent about 30 seconds sprays all of the visible food off the plates, spoons, pans, and glasses. Next, we put all of the dishes on a couple of large bath towels and let the dry for a few minutes before we put them back in their places in the cupboards.
“Dad all of the towels will be wet for our baths,” Andy observed.
“Real men don’t need towels,” he replied. “You first Bryan.”
Obediently I jumped into the tub.
“I don’t make enough money to constantly use the hot water, so brace yourself,” my dad warned right before he turned on the straight cold water and squirted me off just like he had the dishes. “Go turn on the fan in the kitchen and stand in front of it, you’ll be dry in no time.
There was no such thing as privacy in our home and within a few seconds all four boys were standing in the kitchen in front of the fan drying off from their quick “showers.” My dad walked in with a sense of pride on his face, he had saved at least a few cents from making us suffer and he was proud of that accomplishment.
The next day we got to go to the hospital to visit our new baby sister. I knew she was part of the family, but there was something weird about her, I had never been so close to a girl before and I was a little scared.
“Andy I dare you to touch her,” I said.
“No way.”
“I will,” Dallin boldly stated as he walked over and poked Marne in the eye.
This sent the baby into a screaming furry as mom scrambled to pick up her new favorite child. She sent a scowl to all of us as she tried to calm the baby. Meanwhile Alex thought that Dallin’s actions were a permit to create total mayhem so he started climbing the curtain that divided Mom’s room in half. Without warning the curtain crashed to the floor covering Alex in a heap of mess. Just then the nurse walked in the door to see what all of the commotion was. I can’t even imagine what thoughts she must have had as she saw a screaming newborn, three young boys laughing hysterically, a toddler tangled in a mess of ceiling tiles, curtain rods and fabric, and a bald man with a latex glove pulled over his head. She took one look, started to say something, turned and left the room.
Mom ended up sending us all home, and we didn’t get to go back until mom was released from the hospital.
This is basically how it went for the few days that we lived with Dad, Army for dinner, cereal for all other meals, spraying off the dishes and the children, and helping him with his special projects. When mom finally got home, we were grateful for bedtime, bath time, and real food. This was the worst week of my childhood not only because we barely survived, but because of the severe repercussions, repercussions that are still in force today. When I go to visit my mom’s house I am not allowed to poke Marne in the eye, see mom’s large belly scar, or encourage Alex to swing from the curtains.