Meet the Mom-ster

Revised and updated 1/11/15


Every good story has an antagonist. Mine is the Mom-ster.



Describing the Mom-ster is no small feat. She is no celebrity, although in her mind she is all that matters in this world and you should drop everything to celebrate her.

Mom-ster hails from a small town in Pennsylvania, which is comparable to the fictional Mayberry. Her siblings are wonderful, caring and loving; the best Aunts & Uncle you could ever ask for. You would never believe they are from the same family. Mom-ster is definitely the black sheep.

Mom-ster is highly concerned with her appearance.

Mom-ster is always buying nice clothes (on sale, of course) and dying her hair blonde to cover her graying roots.

Mom-ster constantly brags about her looks and weight, “I’m in my 70’s and I look like I’m in my 50’s AND I’m a size 6! I’m the skinniest one in my family!” I’ll give her credit where it’s due, she does look good for her age. However, she’d look a lot more youthful if she’d get rid of her psychological baggage that she’s been carrying around for years. The bitterness shows on her face.

The world revolves around the Mom-ster. When she speaks, it is the gospel, and you are to follow what she says to perfection.

Mom-ster is never wrong. Ever.

If she finds someone in opposition to her, say a therapist, she will stop seeing that therapist and find someone else – until that person disagrees with her or tells her of her faults.


Fame, notoriety, and money – those are the things Mom-ster obsesses about daily.


She even has her own little chant she would walk around the house singing and clapping to, “Money, money, green, green, green!” At any given time she could be heard saying, “I could have been a flight attendant!”, “I’m going to win the lottery and move away!”, “I’m the best antique authority around!”, and my favorite, “I could have been a Rockette!”



Hey Mom-ster, file that under “shoulda, coulda, woulda”, please.



If I had a dollar for every time I heard, “You children are the ruination of this marriage and my body!”, I would be a millionaire. All she ever had to do was look in the mirror and she would see who really is to blame, but as I said before, she is never wrong or to blame for anything.

In addition to the narcissism, Mom-ster is a hoarder. I guess they go hand in hand. It’s all about control, or lack there of when it comes to hoarding. She is constantly buying things, even if she has no use for them. This is one aspect of the Mom-ster I am still coming to terms with.

Whenever I drive past their house or even think about the house, I start to have a panic attack. At times, I even have problems watching the TV show Hoarders. It’s embarrassing when friends ask me what the hell is going on with my parents house and yard. Yet another reason I’ve disassociated myself from my parents.

Mom-ster has no friends. She has acquaintances, but no one of substance.

I remember she used to have a few friends, but the upkeep was too much and the spotlight wasn’t constantly on her. She disowned her children and brags about doing so. Although I was the one to stop communication with her first, she still tells the story of how she cut me off.

Mom-ster has even stopped most communications with her siblings. They dared to question her motives and actions. She’s nicer to strangers than her own flesh and blood.

A few years back, I reconnected with the family in PA. I was in the first stages of muting and disconnecting the tapes of the Mom-ster in my head. I asked her siblings what was so horrendous that happened to Mom-ster when she was growing up that made her into the beast she is today. Not one of them had an answer for me. The closest I came to an answer was, “We all had it equally bad, if you want to call it that. The only difference is we got over it and moved on.”

Out of my siblings, I think she hates me the most. I represent all that she ever wanted to do with her life, but never had the guts to do. You would think she’d be thankful I’m not repeating her mistakes and am living a happy and prosperous life; that’s not the way of the Mom-ster though.

I don’t think the Mom-ster has ever known happiness, and that is sad. Of course, to be happy, you have to be open to it. Unfortunately, she is well into her 70’s and set in her ways. Any hope of change at this point is almost impossible.

I truly hope Mom-ster finds peace one day.