I love you too, Mom

The BBQ Pit
1

So, I’m in San Antonio until I can find a place to live and a job in Houston. I’m staying with my parents at their house. I can’t complain that much. I’ve got my own room, access to a computer, food, laundry facilities, bathroom, everything. And it’s in a nice neighboorhood, convenient to a lot of stuff.

It’s been twenty-four hours. In this period, I’ve found out that my marriage is on very shaky ground (more so than I knew); I’m coming off a 4.1K mile road trip; and I’ve still got to make arrangements to find a job and a place to live in Houston and make the arrangements for utilities and so forth. Factor in the change from a night schedule to a day schedule. Naturally, I’m under a LOT of stress, both physical and mental.

Mom decides two things. One, that I can handle going on a diet. My dad is on a diet, and she thinks it’s a splendid idea for me to join in on the fun. Not a good idea. Two things happen when I’m this stressed. I either overeat, or I don’t eat as much as I need to. It looks like I’m not eating as much as I need to. Hence, a diet is not a good idea. I’ve tried to politely bow out. Doesn’t work. I get a guilt trip about having to help my dad out, and it’s nice to have support.

The other is that I need to work on my neatness in my personal appearance and my stuff. This is where I draw the line. It’s not that I have anything against being neat. I have a lot against being lectured constantly about it. I especially don’t need to hear five minutes before I have to leave for a job interview that corduroy is not a good material. And this is ESPECIALLY true when I’m not wearing my corduroy skirt.

There are an insufficient number of words in the English language that adequately convey my feelings right now. At least none that wouldn’t make me sound like the Daughter from Hell. I love my mom, don’t get me wrong, and God knows I’m grateful to be able to live here while waiting to go to Houston.

Some of this shit’s got to stop, tho. The time to express concerns about my weight and my wardrobe is not when my life is in a state of near-meltdown. I’m exhausted, disoriented, cranky, and I’ve still got a ton of stuff to do yet. I do not need to hear how corduroy is a bad material. So, Mom, I love you, but you need to back the fuck off.

Love,

Robin

2

Ah, yes. Duty requires that I visit my mother soon, where I will no doubt learn to my astonishment that I am an irresponsible, underachieving, vandalous thirty-something adolescent gay heroin addict.

Good luck to you, my friend.

3

MsRobyn, I feel your pain. I love my Mom and everything, but if I had to move back in with her, I think we’d kill each other. She does that same thing with the dieting suggestions. It seems like just about every day I get a forwarded news article from her about some diet or another, or ways of keeping weight off, or exercise plans, or what have you. She never really comes out and says, “You need to lose weight,” just always keeps on telling me about all these diet plans I should try. Ugh.

Maybe you should try to develop the fine (and difficult) art of the pleasant smile and nod.

Mom: “You’re going to wear THAT? I wouldn’t wear that if I were you. Why don’t you wear that other outfit?”

You: <nods and smiles>

Mom: “So is that a yes?”

You: <nods and smiles>

Mom: “Er… ok then… hey, where are you going??”

Door: <slam>

4

I hear ya, MsRobyn. I’m not under the kind of stress you describe, but my mom is also good at making those little underhanded comments. I know she doesn’t mean anything bad, but does she ever listen to herself?

The most recent example was when I told her I was growing out my hair to all one length (no bangs for the first time in my life – I wanted to try something new) after having had basically a buzzcut for about 10 years. Her comment? “Oh, no, you need bangs because you have such a high forehead.”

Now yes, my forehead does go pretty much straight up from my eyebrows to my hairline. But so fucking what? So does Lisa Kudrow’s, and she’s a babe. I couldn’t help thinking of my friend who’s always telling her young daughters how pretty they are and how nice they look, and I realized that my mother never did that when I was growing up unless my hairstyle/clothes were her idea. No wonder I never had any self-esteem about my appearance when I was growing up. Apparently it was because of my huge bulbous disfigured Elephant Man forehead.

My hair is past my shoulders now, and Mr. Scarlett and I agree that I look pretty good. I love my mom too, but I’m glad I’ve finally learned to brush off the more idiotic of her remarks about what I “should” do. And about how the ethnic food and world music I like is “weird” (said with just a soupcon of disdain). No, it’s not “weird,” it’s an everyday aspect of another culture. I keep telling her, “There are six billion opinions in the world, and they can’t all agree with yours.” (By the way, another of my “flaws” is that “You have such strong opinions.” So do you, Mom – but mine are different from yours, and I’m not afraid to express and defend them. That’s what offends you.

Here’s another one. I was a “gifted” child – high IQ, skipped the second grade, always in the advanced classes. There was a constant push toward college. If I happened to get a B, all the A’s were suddenly invisible. “Why isn’t this an A?” There was never any honest discussion about what I might want to do with my life or who I wanted to be, or even how was my day – just that by God, I was going to college. I don’t think my mom (Dad was and is emotionally unavailable, so forget him) has any real inkling of the social hell I endured during my school years. The trouble with my mother’s lack of understanding of me now is that she’s still stuck with her perception of who she thought I was when I was 19. She was wrong back then, and in the intervening 14 years I’ve evolved into someone completely different. But she has no clue, because (1) she’s never considered me as my own thinking, feeling person, and (2) she can’t see beyond the boundaries of her own repressed existence.

Luckily our relationship is such that I can correct her on some of these points – but on some she just never catches on.

Good luck coping, MsRobyn. Things will turn around eventually!

Oh, and parents? Remember to compliment your kids for what they are, more than you criticize them for what they are not.

5

Scarlett–who knew we had the same mother?

Robin, I have no advice to offer that you can actually follow. You know you can’t ignore her and you know you can’t tell her off like you would like to. Just try not to kill her and hopefully, it will be over soon!

6

Scarlett & evilbeth: I think all three of us had the same mother! (The school thing brought back a bunch of buried memories :frowning: --you completely described how she was when I was in high school)

Robin: I really don’t have advice, but just that you know this is going to be a temporary situation, and you’ll be out soon.

7

I’m going home for Easter. I dread it.

I know how it’s going to be. “Yes, mom, I’ve gained weight and I know it, thankyouverymuch, no need to point that out to me. Yes, I’m broke, and I need support in June. You see, I get my last student loan check April 29, and I don’t get paid from work until June 29. That’s two months. Yes, I’ve known this all year, and yes I should have been able to save up some money if it hadn’t been for being sick all spring and spending a fortune on doctor’s visits and medicine. Yes, mom, I know mom, shut up mom.”

Makes you wonder why I always bring course literature with me home doesn’t it? “No, mom, I really can’t do a million errands for you now, I have to study.” sigh

I love my mother, she’s fantastic in so many ways, but sometimes she drives me mad. And don’t even get me started on my dad. “Hey, dad, I lost 10 pounds! Isn’t that great?” “Yeah, but you know, our scale is a little unreliable…”

8

Scarlett, beth, javamaven…my sisters.

Oh yes.

If I’m not her “little achiever”, I’m no one. And after all the shit she’s put me through, having her say “I love you no matter what you do” is empty and hollow. It has all the force of telling a guy that “size doesn’t matter,” when he hasn’t asked you.

I dread trips home. I dread their visits. I dread their phone calls telling me that I’m wasting my education and my life by taking 6 months off and that if I don’t get on that corporate gravy train right now the doors will close to me forever.

Oy, did this hit close to home. Robin, best of luck on getting a job and making the move to Houston.

9

Jeez, I thought being the middle child and starving for attention was bad :slight_smile:
I have an older sister who says the same kind of underhanded things to me; if I tell her I got a new job, she says “Another one?” If I say I signed up for dance classes, she says “What do you want to take those for?” I just don’t get her. She’s a wonderful person, and I love her very much, but would it kill her to just be happy for me when I’m happy, and be mad at the things I’m mad at? I don’t let her opinions affect me too much, but I find that I don’t tell her things that are important to me, because I know she’ll tarnish them.

10

Oh, jeez, count me in with the sisterhood.

Since this is the Pit, I guess I’ll rant a little.
My mom does the same underhanded things, never a compliment, always a little dig here, a little dig there.
We have very different tastes and opinions, and she can’t seem to understand that it’s okay to have differences.

I’m very decisive; she can’t make a freaking decision to save her life.
I like things simple and plain; she likes stuff formal and elegant.
I dress very casually, minimal makeup, simple hair; she is always impeccably dressed and accessorized, hair done and full makeup (not Tammy Faye, at least).
I like blue; she likes green. She can’t understand why my bedroom is painted blue. Why on earth would anyone want a blue bedroom when they could have green?

The whole weight/hair/clothes thing is too much to even go into, and anyway, it sounds like you all know exactly what I mean.

Let’s see. Last week, I had to go meet her at the car dealer, where she was dropping off her car. I was kind enough to give her a ride home, and promised to take her back out the next day to pick up her car. When she got in my car at the dealer, she immediately snaps off the radio. After all, car radios are the reason for the recent downfall of civilized society. Why anyone needs to listen to music in the car is beyond her. There is absolutely no reason to listen to the radio in the car…that’s what causes accidents. Don’t even get her started on tape or CD players in the car. Ten minutes of “why-do-you-have-to-listen-to-the-radio-in-the-car?” Arrgghh!
Then she notices my coffee cup in the cup holder. If I ever get in an accident and the cop notices I have coffee, it will be my fault, no matter what. It’s illegal to drink while you drive (no, ma, that’s just alchohol). Ten minutes of “why-do-you-always-have-to-have-coffee-in-the-car?” Because it’s 8:00 am, you bitch.

Thank God I remembered to hide my cell phone in my coat pocket.

Christmas shopping. Old Navy. She is deciding on shirts for my pre-teen girls. Should she get them the same shirt or different shirts? I tell her to get different shirts and they can borrow each others shirt. (they’re pretty good about that). Standing there for 15 minutes while she dickers over whether to get the same shirts or different shirts, while I keep repeating to get different shirts.
Finally. She decides to get them different shirts. Then, the pattern. Should she get Sarah the flowers and Amy the butterflies or the other way around?
Fifteen more minutes, and that’s when the salesperson asked me to stop beating my head against the wall…

Oh, I have to stop or I will go crazy.

11

Just a note you whiney people…be glad your mom is even still alive to criticize you and be a pain in your ass.

Not being bitchy about your circumstances, well, okay I am but I would much rather grumble about my mother and her stupid ideals or whatever than have a mother die when I was 15.

Until you loose your own mothers, I have no sympathy for your circumstances.

< sorry, I just had to let that out, I am in a bitchy mood since a 2 ton mini van and 135 pound me almost collided in the parking lot of the local grocery store, asshole >

12

Techie, just because we’re venting now doesn’t mean we lack the awareness of what our mothers’ mortality means. I can pretty much promise you that I will be a catatonic zombie for months, if not years, when my mom passes. BUT. In the here and now, we still need wiggle room to bitch and moan about the little irrascibilities of Life With Mom.

MsRobyn, I am so there with you. I’ve been living with my parents for nearly a year now. On the large scale, they are fantastic. Better than, even. Free room and board? A little pocket money every now and then? And all I have to do is occasionally troubleshoot the computer and wash a few dishes while I go to school? Suh-weet!

And yet. Mom, could you review in your head that a few years ago, I officially became an adult, please? I’m never going to be the neat and tidy person you are. For one thing, I don’t handle my stress by cleaning and organizing. I handle it by eating, reading, sleeping, or otherwise being a bump on a log. So, could you not nag me to make my bed every single morning? Please?

And remember how you’ve been bugging me to lose weight and be healthier for the last, oh, seventeen years? Well, now that I am, could I have a little backup? Dad, would it kill you to microwave some green beans once in a while? I know potatoes are listed as vegetables, but diet-wise, they count as carbs, and I really don’t want to eat them every day.

Yes, that’s my whiny rant for today. Thank you very much.

13

Eh, phouka, I got out my bitch about the snot-nosed-kid-carrying-shit-mobile…

I do get tired of people getting whiney about something I can’t complain about. Something that took me through some very difficult years but she’s no longer around. I have complained about her post-life…I admit, but sometimes I look at the whining and think, “Gee, I wish I had that problem.”

Just a matter of perspective I guess.

14

Definitely, and I can completely see where I would go thermo-nuclear under similar circumstances. I grieve for your loss, Tech. I count myself fantastically lucky to have the mom I do, and for as long as I have.

15

phouka, you’re alright…but I didn’t go thermo-nuclear…I just wish sometimes people would realize that their mommies and daddies aren’t going to be there all their lives.

Shit I have done my fair share of bitching about my father, who if he died today I would be devistated, completely and utterly lost.

Now, if this were a bitch about step-moms I would be up there routing them on with bullhorns and getting the crowd to almost a riot type frenzy. :wink:

16

I should point out that my mother has multiple sclerosis, so I am acutely aware of her mortality and her declining condition. Regular discussions of the details of her likely need for nursing care and the legal and financial implications after her death are part of the family routine.

This aside, she still has a mind, and should know how to use it. Her MS is not responsible for what she says, nor is it responsible for her behavior. She’s always piled on when I’ve been at my most vulnerable, and she knows how to do it to achieve maximum effect. This comes from years of experience, I’m afraid. Her latest suggestion is that I should stay in San Antonio for six months so I can “move like a mensch”, lose all the weight I can, and find a nice Jewish man. IF I do these things (although the man is optional), my parents will help me buy a house in Houston. It’s an attractive offer, to be sure, but I’m not sure I want the strings that come with it. Basically, it’s a struggle between being independent, and doing the things I want with my life, and being the princess they want me to be. It’s really not an easy choice.

I should also point out that things have gotten somewhat better in the last 24 hours. I’ve had the opportunity to get some sleep, and am looking for a job that will keep me out of the house and help me earn money so I can move.

I’m giving myself a week to decide what I want to do. After that, who knows.

Robin

17

Robyn, I am not faulting you for your whine, nor am I faulting anyone for bitching about their mothers. I guess I am just kinda bumming that I can’t be there to route you on.

Believe me when I say, I complain about the most stupidist crap. I know this, I realize it. There are some things that drive me nuts when it comes to mothers and daughters and the daughters that complain.

The closest I have is a step-mother who I am just “friends” with, who has a son I consider my brother, whole-heartedly, but she’s more like that woman that married my dad.

Anyhow, it’s in everyone’s right to bitch, I know that. I do my fair share too. Sometimes you just gotta get it out. I wasn’t saying you weren’t right, just remember that when your mom is finally gone.

BTW, I know of five people in my life with MS, fer God’s sakes, what is the deal with that disease? It’s like an epidemic or something! Also, remember that her disease is robbing her of a lot of her life as she used to know. It can’t be easy watching your body deteriorate. On that grounds you might consider cutting her a little slack but that’s up to you. OH and mothers and fathers will never change their thinking. They will always be the same buttheads they always have been to us kids and then some as they grow older.

Now, remind me of that the next time I complain about my dad…and you will be justified in doing so.

18

I’m sorry for your loss techchick, and I know I should be glad that my mother is still with me, and I will truly miss her when she’s gone. I have heard the same thing from friends who have either lost their moms or for whatever reason have no contact with their moms.

But…my mother constantly criticizes everything I do. And I mean everything. She feels compelled to comment on how my cupboards are arranged, how I have the silverware in the drawer, how I do laundry, how I clean, what flowers I plant in the garden, the type of car I drive (even the color of my car), the way I raise my kids, etc, etc, etc.

The gardening comments will be starting again soon.
Her: “Impatiens again? Why don’t you plant pansies, Kinsey? Everyone likes pansies.”
Me: “No, Mom, you like pansies, I like impatiens.”
Her: “Why did you plant white impatiens, pink would look better.”
Me: “Well, Mom, I like the way the white flowers look against the red brick of the house. I don’t like the pink ones.”
Her: “Oh, don’t be silly, everyone likes pink flowers.”

Just a constant pick, pick, pick. Makes me crazy.

19

No offense, techie, but not everyone has a mom they would miss when she passed. I’m sorry for your loss, though- sincerely.

Zette

20

Well, sheesh…if it’s any consolation, my mom used to kick my ass, literally and figuratively. Got more than a few physical scars from the woman and a lot of internal scars.

That doesn’t mean that in 18 years time I don’t miss the mother/daughter moments etc…we had them, although few. I know that had she lived, things would have eventually changed (out of my own persistance) and I still have hard feelings about her but I know that she was my mom.

Knowing that we never had the chance to reconcile what was a very difficult relationship makes me sad.

For the women or men here that have difficulty with your parents…I am not dissing you, I am just thinking, try to rethink the relationship. It could be a lot worse.

< sheesh >

Stop taking what I say so damn personally…I say it out of my own personal experience. I don’t expect anyone to be throwing parties for their mommies and nodding to everything she says, just lighten up a little. This coming from a woman who was abused by her mother both physically and mentally… geez