My mom would probably like to tell me to live my life differently than I do, but to her credit, she doesn’t.
We must be related. My dad wouldn’t let me tell my sister for several days after my mom went to the hospital for abdominal pains while they were visiting me in California. Last year, I found out via email a few days after it happened that Dad had totaled his car (fortunately, neither he nor Mom were hurt) when he fell asleep at the wheel while driving to Boston to see my sister. Mr. Neville is always gobsmacked when they do something like this. If one of his parents totaled their car, they’d probably call us from the scene (or at least the same day). But this is my parents’ way.
My mother has always been the kind of person who, upon being told that so-and-so’s husband or child had died, would say, “They’re young yet. They can get remarried/have another child.” Occasionally to their face.
My mother is dying of bone cancer and still doesn’t want me to be told. This is partly so I don’t worry and partly out of punisment. (My brother told me). Grrr.
Oh yeah, this happens all the time too. My parents went to Hawaii for a vacation, and my father got a blood clot in his leg from sitting on the plane for so long. He was in the hospital for almost 2 weeks, and apparently there were several ‘we’re losing him’ moments. Us kids found out a month later, when they felt ok talking about, cuz they didn’t want us to worry.
To her dying day, my mother denied my sister’s lesbianism, refered to it as “only a phase,” and refused contact with her partners and their children. She also expected me to find another husband and have some children.
Okay - does anyone else’s parents always say, “Right?” at the end of every sentence?
“Well if he would just look for a job he wouldn’t have this problem, right?”
“Well everyone knows that you should be republican, right?”
My mom is very black and white, and I hate these “Right?” moments. Because she really doesn’t want to discuss it, just prove that she’s smart. She always says this with a hard smile too. So either I nod yes, or I make her smile go away and I’m putting her down unintentionally.
In my 30s, I discovered I was allergic to nuts, and that what had probably been a mild and unnoticable reaction had over time developed into a more severe one. Thus explaining the mystery rashes my mother was convinced were somehow my fault.
Anyway, I told her. For about ten years, she’d make me a birthday chocolate pie… with almonds. At holiday dinners, it would be green beans… with almonds. Cashews, almonds, pine nuts, or any other nut would find their way into casseroles. She’d “forget” to tell me until after I’d taken a bite, and then would get annoyed that I was angry because “oh, you’re just picky”.
About five years ago, my oldest nephew turned out to be allergic to nuts. Panic! Alarm! Consternation! Mom scolds my brother, my SiL, and me for not checking if something has nuts in it. Um, I’m the one who is allergic to nuts, too, remember? Apparently, no. I’m still just “picky”. Although “he probably got it from [me]”. :rolleyes:
My dad is quiet, smart, has a wicked sense of humor, and stays completely out of trying to make any intrusive suggestions regarding my life. We get along great.
I love my mother dearly, but we drive each other crazy. Let’s see…she’s obsessed with being the center of attention, so every conversation with more than one person at a time has to be about her or she will try her best to *make *it about her. She drops casual racist comments (I’m convinced she does it to get a rise–she’s got old-fashioned mildly racist views, but she spouts some rather extreme stuff just because she likes the reaction she gets). Every time she mentions thinking about getting a cat I try my best to talk her out of it because she won’t let the cat in the house and has been known to return pets because they were too much work. She’s very nosey and loves asking intrusive questions.
Even after all that, though, I love her…and she’s great regarding the big things: thinks it’s fine and dandy that I’m childfree, doesn’t care whether I go to church or not, and likes my spouse. So I guess it evens out.
I’m always surprised by how openly Dad talks with me about things.
When my parents divorced, he would talk to us (me especially, being the oldest) about what was happening and gave me more info than I really needed to know. This continued for awhile after they divorced until I finally got up the guts to tell him to stop talking to me about it because it was long done with and I really didn’t need to rehash stuff he’d been telling me since I was 11.
Currently it’s info about Dad, step-mom (common-law), his high school girlfriend (whom I’ve known since I was a child and was like a daughter to… she taught me the girly things), and her soon to be ex-husband (for reasons unrelated to my Dad). It’s weird, but I also think he needs someone to talk to and so long as it doesn’t veer too far into ‘I really didn’t need to know that, tell it to your therapist not me’ territory I let him talk.
My whole family is weird like that. Most of the conversations circle around the weather, how the garden’s are, how the kids/grandkids are, anything new… until it veers into tmi territory or something spills that maybe I might like to know.
For example I was the last to find out Grandpa died (I had to work that day, they didn’t want me to worry… my brother called me and basically forced Dad to tell me so I could call work and say not coming in…) and I was the last to know he was buried (a long time later… they cremated him, and stuck him in a box for two years after he died, then buried him in BC in his parents grave with only Grandma and one Aunt there… no one knew for months!).
Mom’s side is the opposite… call and chat about family minutiae every week. I know more about Mom’s side of the family, and a number of relatives I’ve never met (new second cousin* born last week!), than I do about Dad’s.
My parents are excellent at keeping family secrets. I didn’t find out until I was an adult that:
My mother’s father abandoned the family when my mother was two years old. He attempted to contact her again when I was a young child, but she rejected him and he died shortly after.
When I was eight or nine, my great-aunt set herself on fire after falling asleep with a lit cigarette. She was in the Burn Unit for weeks before she died. I had no idea this was going on.
My crazy evil great-grandmother whom I had heard so much about was actually alive and evil many years into my childhood. I never met her.
Each of these revelations was quite shocking to me. There are more, too, that I suspect, but I find too uncomfortable to ask my parents directly about.
My gramma, bless her heart, is a kind sweet, loving woman. But she is absolutely revolted by homosexuals. She makes sounds of disgust anytime she sees a gay display of affection, be it on tv or in real life. I once mentioned to her how rude that was and that they were people just like us. Her response? “They’re not just like us. We’re not going to hell.” Great gramma…nice to hear that
I found out about that last year, and it was a shock. My grandparents are, effectively, my parents, since they gave me all the love and support my parents didn’t. My grandfather was abusive to his own kids, but nothing but love to me. I am extremely close to my grandmother in particular. She is one of the most loving and caring maternal and nurturing people you will ever meet. Over the last several years I’ve watched her physically and mentally fall apart due to a debilitating nerve disorder called fibromyalgia. I’d seen my grandfather with several severe injuries, including a concussion, but never put the pieces together until after my uncle died.
They would be utterly humiliated if they knew that I know. The family MO is to hide that stuff. I actually shouldn’t know, and if my grandfather knew that I know he would probably disown my mother for telling me. My mother’s motives for telling me are about as evil as you can get. She just wants me to hate my grandmother, such is her thirst for destruction. She’s also a raving hypocrite, trying to make me feel guilty for loving my grandmother when she excuses my grandpa’s abuse and totally glosses over and makes light of abusing me.
I’m not by any means excusing what my grandmother does. It changes things. But I still love her. She’s still one of the most positive family influences in my life and I can’t go back in time and change that.
I love every single pathetic one of them. Maybe that’s the most shocking thing of all. They deliberately and continually wallow in dysfunction. The fact that I’m still wasting time worrying about them and feeling guilty for being wise enough to choose a better life is something to behold.
A few years ago I won (thru work) a very generous gift certificate to a local nice restaurant. My sisters were in town, so I offered Sunday brunch to them & my parents w/ my wife & I. I get there last (as usual, my wife has trouble being on time for anything) and they are already seated and up at the buffet getting their food. My wife physically prevented me from leaving the gift certificate on the table and leaving.
Just wondering - how late were you and how often have you done this to them? It does sound like not very often (since you mention they were in town), but my husband and I eat out with his parents maybe twice a month, and we’ve been tempted to either leave or go ahead and order without them because this happens so often. Then again, we weren’t at a very nice restaurant or being treated.
We were last to arrive, not extremely, 5-10 minutes. I don’t even really have a problem w/ sitting before us, if the hostess calls your name, take the table. But when we got there, all of them were in line at the buffet. Did you not eat for 3 days??
Oh, OK - 5-10 minutes is annoying but not the “let’s go _____” level of things. I was thinking a half hour or so might spur some people to do something.
Oy. My girlfriend has Celiac’s disease, which basically means she can’t have products containing wheat or gluten. Last year for her birthday, her mother, to her credit, made her a gluten-free birthday cake for the get-together she hosted.
To her debit, she also provided one of those ginormous pre-sliced cheesecake dealies like you get at Costco for everyone else, and never hesitated to tell people that the gluten-free cake was something they probably would want to avoid. As my way of saying “frak you” to her, I had like 5 pieces of the gluten-free cake, "mmmmmmmm"ing and "oh god, it’s so rich"ing my way through every one.
I really don’t see anything wrong with them getting on line for food. You were late. If it were a regular restaurant they would be provided bread or something to munch on while they waited. For them to get on line at the buffet seems perfectly natural. As a matter of fact, I would have personally been embarrassed if I were late and they were standing around waiting for me or sitting at the table wondering when I would finally arrive so they could start their meal.
I would much rather see them going ahead without me due to my mismanagement of time.
