Well, we have a winner! Proving that even mothers who are busy tearing away at their daughter's thread bare self-esteem have time to think about vibrators, I will announce which one of you wins the contest in my next entry.This has been the craziest week in a long time. I've come to realize a lot of things during my Mom's visit, mostly, THAT IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN AS LONG AS I LIVE. (Again, I write that in caps because I am screaming it.)
One thing I want to say to all the cool Moms that read this blog and cringe that you might one day have an ungrateful daughter like me who blogs about you behind your back, the thing is, my Mom isn't the most, shall we say, mentally well person around.
The problem is my Dad has really hid this problem from us and enabled her to the point where I'm unclear if she's taking meds, when she's taking meds and if she's seeing someone regularly for this problem. This trip would prove negative on all counts.
Things really went haywire on Sunday when I, needing space, after the self-esteem stripping encounter that was our Saturday night dinner, suggested that I take her down to the beach hotel she booked for us that week, have dinner with her and then come up to my own apartment and join her for breakfast the next day.
She went Koo Koo Bananas. Yelling at me at my favorite restaurant (sorry, Los Feliz Cafe... I tried to tip accordingly to my mother's melt down), saying that this isn't how she planned things, why had she even bothered to take time off work if I was going to change the plan and maybe she should just get on a plane and leave.
I reiterated calmly that I just wanted three hours to myself. It's kind of funny because she's a therapist. FOR REAL. So asking for space and asking for a boundary from A THERAPIST and then getting yelled at by one... kinda funny.
That should be my new reality show: "Tonight on 'Therapists Exposed' - by day she gives her patients advice, disbelieving their mothers could be so cruel, by night, she terrorizes her own daughter about how many calories are in a Starbucks muffin!"
Are ya with me, or are ya with me? So I could go down the whole list of Koo Koo Banana-ness - her checking out of the beach front hotel she was staying in because it was not as nice as she remembered to instead stay at the motel near me with, as my friend A, said, the beautiful view of the neighboring Costco; her vitriol at her sister for having two anorexic daughters when she so obviously has three daughters with food issues, her lectures on the fat and calorie content of almost everything I've eaten since she's landed, etc.
(P.S. did you know instead of dessert, you can just have two chocolate covered Altoids for 7 1/2 calories each?! How have I lived without this information for this long?)
But I'm kind of exhausted living it, so I'm not going to put you through it.
I think my Mom can definitely sense my pulling away from the chaos that is having her for a Mom. I don't engage or take the bait as much and that makes her furious. When I won't argue, she can't win and I think that makes her feel judged in some way. I long to just have a normal relationship with her but there's such an element of wanting to protect myself from her, too.
It's really sad. Sad to have your Mom come out to visit and all you think about is how you can't wait until she leaves.
This post is dedicated to waiters who bring you a second margarita without even asking.
