Somehow, with both of us in our thirties, our mother still finds subtle little ways (probably entirely unconsciously) to make it clear that my brother is the Anointed One and I am the Other One. Lest you think this is all a matter of perception, I’ll say that my brother sees it and agrees with me, as do both of our wives. Our dad is better about it, but still guilty in his own ways (often because of his desire to make my mother happy, I suspect).
Over the last few days, trying to figure out the best way to pick up my brother and his wife from the airport when they visit for Xmas, the 'rents couldn’t tolerate my original plan, which involved bringing brother and wife to our house in Denver for a night before heading up north to the 'rents house near Ft. Collins the next morning. This made perfect sense to me, as they have late-night arrivals, which, given the involved departure and arrival points of Riga, Latvia, New York City and Denver and the time of year, could easily turn into three-in-the-morning arrivals. I figure, if we’re staying at our hosue in Denver that night, that at least makes for a bedtime of 1 a.m. (optimistic) or 3 a.m. (realistic), rather than 2 or 4 in the morning.
Unacceptable to the ‘rents. They can’t stand the idea of my brother spending a single second longer than necessary in Colorado and not staying under their roof. They must have the Anointed One as near to them as possible, as soon as possible. (I should mention that this isn’t helped by my brother’s refusal to ride in Dad’s truck, demanding instead, “something appropriately sized for human beings (yes, I’ve been in Europe too long already).”) So for two days’ worth of e-mail exchanges, Mom and Dad go through a series of ten or so tortured scenarios to get my brother to their house on the night of his arrival, all the while simply telling me and my wife (mlerose, btw) what our role in the scenario is, rather than ever actually asking our opinions.
This keeps my Mom in her Queen Bee role, in charge of everything and basically controlling the conditions of my access to my brother. If I want any time with him - and he lives in Latvia, so time with him is a precious commodity - I have to do it on her terms and go to their house. Admittedly, my original plan deprives my parents of several hours in the presence of my brother, but for most of those hours they would be asleep, anyway.
After all the tortured exchanges, fretting about how to get the Anointed One to their house - not pick him up from the airport and make sure he’s housed and fed for the night, but specifically to their house - in which I am told (not asked) what my role will be (i.e., “Superhero, you and Mle will come to our house after work on Friday, then you and Dad will go to the airport”), they arrive at the plan that my dad, who is usually asleep by 10:00 every night, who, as I often say, “Always sees Law but frequently sleeps through Order,” will drive to the airport to pick up brother and brother’s wife, who could easily be arriving well past midnight.
In frustration at all the wrangling over what was originally a simple plan that required no effort on anyone’s part but my own, I remove myself from the situation, saying, “Y’all do whatever the hell you want, Mle and I will come up to your house on our own on Saturday afternoon.”
The next day, Mom e-mails again, saying, “Oh, we forgot that Dad will still be recovering from rotator cuff surgery on the 19th, and his arm will be in a sling, so he can’t drive anyway, so all of you will have to figure out on your own what to do.”
After two days of utter bullshit, two days of making clear once again that my brother is the Special One and I’m something akin to a butler who serves at beck and call, two days of meddling with an original plan that was perfectly acceptable to me, mlerose, my brother and his wife, “Oops, we forgot the crucial detail that Dad won’t be able to drive, figure it out on your own.”
No word on why Mom, to whom it matters most, wouldn’t be able to drive to the airport, if it was so all-important to her to have the Anointed One under her roof as soon as possible, other than the general knowledge that she’s often asleep even by the time Law is starting, much less staying awake for Order.
I had been pissed off about the whole matter, and my rage boiled over for about two minutes after that final e-mail, and then suddenly it turned the corner into “so absurd it’s funny” territory.
