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10:36 a.m. - 2004-08-31
How to be 14 years old again
I swear, it was Thursday afternoon five minutes ago. Let's see, I have no immediate memory of the past four days. Weekend was full of D&O - took my parents to return the car then drove them up to see my brother and SIL at their town's arts festival. My mother is doing this cool knitting thing and thinks my SIL might be able to sell stuff at the next festival. Sunday, we drove my parents to visit their friends who live in the same town as my in-laws, then paid a two hour visit to the in-laws where we were criticized for not being able to move a huge TV that they want us to take (hello - small car, five people, not going to happen today.) MIL got all pissy and threatened to send it to a charity. Spouse was cool, though they were obviously trying to work those buttons and said "You call if you have to. You do what you need to do. If it works out that we can pick it up in the next week, we will. If you want to give it to a charity before then, by all means, go ahead." I heart spouse and was so proud of him.

Did I already bitch about the lampshade? MIL called my mother and asked her to call us at work, it was so important because they needed A NEW LAMPSHADE! We of course, delivered. I am concerned that FIL has not really moved off the couch since he got home from the ER more than two weeks ago. Not good for a 70 year old. He seems content however to be able to have a justification now NOT to move. But I am concerned that he will not be ambulatory ever again. And that he will not be motivated to pursue anything that would make him be able to walk at least with his crutches despite the post polio.

My mother and I had another fight - oh joy. I am so grateful that she and my father came up to watch Andy, but it just makes me bananas that they drop everything to go and see my brother when he will not plan for them, or make an effort for them. At church, I remember the gospel about the father who kills the fatted calf for his son who has taken his inheritence, squandered it, and then returns home penniless, while the other son stayed and worked the family farm and was dutiful to his father. Can I just say I HATE THAT PARABLE! I do not get it.

In any event, the fight simmered over several days, with my mother barely speaking to me, and then when I pointed out low cost fares over Thanksgiving (since they had mentioned that they were coming up this year) she announced that she didn't want to come up. I was good. I ignored this instead of escalating the fight, but then last night when I bought her something at the grocery store that I knew she liked and wanted, she just walked away, and I asked if I was still being punished for being angry that she was choosing to go to my brother's again on the weekend, and that she insisted that we had to go too. She said that the reason she wasn't coming was because when I was mad at her, I was mean to spouse and Andy (yes, I can get pissy) and she "didn't want to be the instrument of me hurting them." I just walked away. I stayed with Andy and spouse in another room and we did whatever we did, and then while Andy was taking a shower, she started again and I said that I had enough, that if, as she said she was closest to me, then she had to stop being mean to me. I understand that she wants to see my brother and his kids even if he doesn't make an effort to see them, but what I didn't understand is why we dropped everything to accomodate them, why she couldn't say in advance - "I want to see you, and I need to know when you will be available." Instead, when my parents come, we are unable to make any plans, and if we do, they disappear in a flash if we get any kind of signal from my brother. We must drop everything to go and see them. Every time. All I am asking is that she be fair and at least ask them to make a plan. I'm all about plans apparently.

My mother is in a knitting phase in her life and she said "But I made you six pairs of socks," and I said "But you never gave them to me." And she replied "But if I do that, the other kids will get mad because I made more for you." That sums it all up for me. I know this is all whiney and self-absorbed, but I hope I can learn from this. I don't want to be a demanding shrew. I don't want to be mean to my family. I just don't want them killing that fatted calf for someone else all the time. How immature is that?

Oh yah, and now I'm officially a den mother. And tomorrow is Andy's first day of second grade!

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