Warning signs

Author's note: I transcribed this story as it was told to me by a dear friend that loved her family but wanted to let her story be heard to help other that maybe in her situation.

I was never raised with my brother Mark; his father had kidnapped him during the divorce between my mother and Mark's father. No, I didn't meet Mark until my late 20s. At that time my parents and I lived in a tiny house where we were staying while I went to college, and they took care of my maternal grandparents. Mark called my mother late one night and asked if he could move in with us and bring his wife Libby and their seven-year-old son Harold.

It was explained to me that they (Mark and Libby) had recently got custody of Harold back from the state. According to them he'd been placed in state custody because there was a sink full of dishes when they'd been inspected four years ago. Apparently, a neighbor had turned them in for child neglect. It took them two years to get Harold back, then another two years to get the case closed. At which point they decided then they did not want to stay in the state that had taken their son.

They said they planned to get a divorce but not right away. They felt that the cross-country move would be beneficial and though wouldn't save the marriage they weren't ready to cross that bridge just yet. It seemed to me the plan was to stabilize Harold in school and a routine first then quietly and amicably separate. At that time Mark told me that he had no plans of taking Harrold away from Libby. Her eldest child had been "taken" by her first husband and he didn't want to hurt her. In hind sight I often wonder if that was his way of holding on to hope for her to love him again, in any event, it didn't work.

Originally from the east coast, they had flown to the west coast with the intent of living with us. However, they made a two-week layover in the northern state so that Libby could spend time with her boyfriend at the time Brad. By both Libby and Mark's account Libby and Brad shared one room while Mark and Harold were in the room next door playing video games for that two weeks.

When I drove up to get them, I found this revelation disturbing to say the least, yet I was also open-minded and tried to be non-judgmental. It wasn't quite spring yet, but the weather was still fairly nice, and I found it strange the first thing Mark and Libby did once we got home was to set up the Libby's computer. It soon became apparent they both valued their computer time more then anything else. For the first few days it was almost exclusively Libby on the computer with Mark only getting on while she was asleep or dealing with Harold.

Harold had "bowel troubles" and according to both Libby and Mark he lacked the ability to feel when he needed to use the bathroom. As a result, he regularly soiled himself several times a day. Harold would pick a parent to go to the bathroom to "check him" the parent that went would spend over 45 minutes, cleaning him, bathing him, and getting him in clean cloths. At meal times he would pick which of his parents he wanted to cut his food and feed him. If the other parent did it, he would throw a tantrum.

He also let his parents decide what he did or didn't like in regards to food, movies, colors, etc. He was not allowed to cut his own food. They had decided not to enroll Harold in school until the following fall, they intended to re-enroll him in the same grade he was missing. Harold had just turned seven and was supposed to be in the second grade.

My father allowed Mark to his computer after about a week. Once that started Mark and Libby were exclusively on the computers. They were served meals at the computers and barely slept. It felt to me to tend to Harold except during his "cleaning" times. Neither Mark nor Libby were happy about this and began to show resentment to Harold and his "interruptions". It was after a particularly bad day of Harold's pent-up energy driving everyone up the wall that it escalated to Harold soiling himself several times, and then hitting one of the dogs with the knot on the end of the chew rope. The dog yelped and ran to hide under my parents' bed. Harold had the fear of god put in him by my father, much to the horror of Libby and Mark.

Specifically my father stated that if he ever hurt one of the animals again he would have the same thing done to him so he knew how it would feel. Mark stepped up and told my father not to talk to his son that way or threaten him. Mark was informed that it was not a threat. It's important to note that my father had not raised his voice and was about 10 feet away from Harold when he spoke. Mark however did get in my father's face and raised his voice. My father told them they needed to enroll him in school as he needed an outlet, a place to play with children of his own age. They were not home-schooling him as they claimed and he was becoming more destructive as the weeks became months.

Five adults and a child in a 720 square foot tiny home, two adults working, one in college full time, and two that just acted like they were on vacation of life and it wasn't their responsibility to support themselves or take care of their own offspring! Needless to say, they were not happy with me for saying he could go to school or I would turn them into the truancy officers.

They felt I was telling them how to raise their son. I felt I was less telling them how to raise him and more telling them how to be better parents. It seemed Libby wanted only a title from Harold, and Mark just wanted a friend. That is to say, Libby liked being called mother, but she didn't seem to care about his children. She frequently admitted that she'd lost her first son and it didn't seem to bother her. Mark seemed thrilled at the idea of having a son but only to the extent that he viewed the boy as his best friend. As he Mark had no friends of his own age and therefore seemed intent on raising Harold to be one.

Once Harold was in school it was Mark that walked him to and from the school in the mornings and afternoons. Libby never seemed to know what was going on until it was happening. Mark was increasingly upset over her lack of awareness, and when he'd speak to her about it was met with anger that he dared interrupt her, and outright hostility that he would dare accuse her of such a thing before she went back to her game. Mark and I went to the "family day" that the school was holding. My father brought Libby down just in time for Harold to show up saying that she only wanted us to wait until she was done with that stage of the game.

One weekend a couple of months later Harold asked Libby if he could get on her computer to play his character, she asked him if he'd spoken to Mark about this. Harold without hesitation said that he'd spoken to Mark and gotten permission. Libby was not happy about this, I had been paying attention and knew what Mark had told Harold. However, it was a good opportunity to expose a trick I'd caught on to that Harold was using. Mark had been outside smoking and therefore unable to deny or confirm his son's story. So, when Libby got upset, I suggested that rather than get upset and just give Harold his way, why not confirm that what he said was true. It was all of 3 feet to walk to the door, open it up and ask Mark what he had said. To my surprise Libby did and Mark told Libby what he'd told Harold before leaving the house: "Ask your mother if you want to get on, and whatever she says goes." Harold had discovered that his parents rarely spoke to each other and he could get his way very easily if he would tell one that the other told him he could have whatever he wanted. This revelation told me that Harold was very cunning and had the ability of manipulation. It was a HUGE red flag to me and we added the rule "do not lie" to Harold's list of rules, too much protest from him.

Soon it was just before the end of the school year Libby and Mark took Harold to the park on a rare outing. When they returned home just before dinner it was to tell us they would be moving out that night. The plan was for them to move in with Harold's best friend. We expressed our concerns about moving in with strangers but ultimately wished them the best as it was their life to do with as they pleased.

I was always raised that it is never ok to be a leach, or couch surf or whatever the new cool lingo is for it, but if your life called for it then you do it to family first, then to life long friends only.