So yesterday I was feeling not quite right. Then I got some sleep and food and am now feeling a lot better. I thought I would continue the family stories today. In light of the fact that my mother has just pissed me off, she will be the topic today. She would be really thrilled since she absolutely hates it when I talk about her.
I have to constantly remind myself that my mother has issues. That is why she does these things that drives me absolutely nuts. Of course, there are the other times that I just wish she would go to therapy already.
I never knew my mom's dad but I have heard plenty of stories about him. He was quite the ladies' man and met my grandmother when she was around 18. We've done the math so we now know that theirs was a shotgun wedding. A couple of years later, my mom was born. After my mother, my grandparents waiting around ten years before having anymore children. I still need to get an explanation of that from grandma. The family consisted of my grandmother's parents, my grandparents, and my mom and her four siblings. Yes, all in one house -- a two bedroom house. One of the fun discussions when the family is all together these days is trying to figure out where everyone slept.
Back to my grandfather. He worked hard and played harder. They couldn't afford a lot of frills but they had the basics. He could afford to go out drinking every weekend though. When he finished, he often came home and used his family as punching bags. One of my aunts has told me that my mom, the tomboy, took the worst of it because she felt this need to protect everyone else from him.
My mom has said that she realizes now that he was probably very frustrated. He grew up in a rural area and was forced to leave school after third grade so that he could work. My mom says that he was intelligent and probably would have done well in school. My grandfather was the oldest in his family, and all of his siblings were allowed to stay in school. Even though my mother understands this now, she was not as forgiving when she was younger. She still chuckles over the memory of dancing on his grave after he had committed suicide when she was in high school.
Since chaotic childhoods turn out control freaks, I figure my mother is queen or mighy close to it. Friends and relatives frequently complain about spending time with her because of this. It's her way or no way at all.
Ten years ago we had a huge argument because I had had the audacity to invite my dad and stepmother over for dinner on Father's Day. My mother is never around on Mother's Day. Nor is she around for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I think the last time I spent Thanksgiving with my mother, I was in high school. So she gets really mad at me for spending holidays with my dad who is within driving distance. I told her in the argument that I was tired of the two of them bickering over the whole holiday thing and that I was now an adult with options -- many of which did not include either of them. My mother hung up the phone.
I spent weeks refusing to call her back but finally did at the insistence of my aunt. In the meantime, my thirtieth birthday and had come and gone. I had a lot of fun on that birthday because I got to spend it with people who actually listened to me. For the past few months I kept thinking, "Wouldn't it be fun to have an enjoyable birthday like that once more?" It's nice to dream. And I will keep reminding myself that the queen of control freaks does not really do this stuff to be mean. She just doesn't know any other way to act.
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