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and somehow, it’s my fault.

December 7, 2009

I envy those of you that have great relationships with your mothers. I never have, and even when I have the desire to try, I am still doubtful it will ever happen.

Think of her as Emily Gilmore, and I, Lorelai. I think that pretty much sums up our relationship in a manner most can understand.

My mother, like Emily, is a (self-declared) blue blood who really should have married a Kennedy or Rockefeller because she was intended to live a high-class life, I’m sure of it. Her holier-than-thou primadonna attitude makes me crazy. She’ll fake nice with everybody one the planet, but when she’s mad, her eyes will cut daggers through your heart. She thinks her daughter is a misguided soul and prays every day she’ll come to her senses.

I, on the other hand, am the free-spirited Lorelai, who lives by her own set of rules and finds happiness in the little things, even when life isn’t perfect. I think my mom is stuck up and needs to learn how not to sweat the small stuff.

She is the queen of getting stressed out over nothing and taking it out on everyone and everything in her sights. Not that we don’t all do that from time to time, but my mom is like perpetual PMS! This is one of the key reasons I chose to move 700 miles away.

Most of the time, we manage to coexist, even when my futile attempts to be helpful are usually greeted with complaints.

For example, a few weeks ago, when I came home from Denver to learn that my parent’s Internet had been cut because they hadn’t paid the bill, I offered that my mom use my wireless card so she could send an important e-mail to her boss (well, as important as a file pertaining to quilting can get), she accepted. And then complained because the connection was slow. And then bitched some more a few days later when the software interfered with the wireless network they have the office set up on that runs the fax and printer as well as the Internet. I never even got so much as a thank you for the offer.

Or this weekend, I pitched in to cook dinner, and made a delicious cod chowder, which she had a few choice comments to make about the ingredients she didn’t care for. The next day, she flat refused to eat the meal I made because she didn’t approve of the fact that I had put a little pepper jack in to boost the flavor. Too bad, because it was damn good.

Oh, and yesterday, when I went out in the freezing cold and wind to bring in enough wood to heat the house for the night and today,and she didn’t even so much as bother to offer to help, nor did she show any concern when I dropped a huge round of wood on my ankle, worried for a bit that it might be broken. Instead, she yelled at me to keep my kid out of her hair while she sewed.

With all that in mind, the past few days have been a slow simmer, waiting to hit boiling point.

So tonight, when my mom came home in the snow, I didn’t bother to offer to help her bring in the groceries and I didn’t bother to offer help with dinner. And when she turned on the wrong burner and burnt a hole in her precious stovetop, the only thing I felt was pure anger, when she blamed me for it.

Apparently, when I made my dad a thermos of coffee old-school fashion this morning, I emptied the teapot completely, which I missed the memo that I wasn’t supposed to do. So when she turned on the burner, the teapot got too hot, and in her fervor to rip the kettle off the stove, rather than letting it cool down, she ripped a hole in the glass top. When I mentioned that it seemed odd that the kettle would have done that, she said that the water must have boiled out and she hadn’t noticed. When I mentioned that there must not have been much water left in there after I used it this morning, she then proceeded to yell at me as though it was solely my fault. Then she went off to my dad about how her “whole life was ruined because the one nice thing in her life was ruined.” I think thousands of dollars of sewing equipment would argue otherwise, but I digress.

When I pointed out how petty and materialistic she was being, she said that if she threw my camera in the toilet, I’d be pissed. To which I agreed, but pointed out that had she simply knocked it off the table and broke it, I’d be much less upset because it was an accident.

Since the incident, she’s spent the past two hours in her craft room talking to what sounds like everyone on the planet, telling them all what *I* did. And find it amusing that she takes no blame for the incident, nor has she apologized for flying off the handle at me for it.

From criticising my parenting/cooking/photography skills to her overdramatic complaints of having to work (in a quilt shop) all day and drive home in the snow (like we all had to do), I am just so done with it all. Ugh. I am seriously ready to quit trying with her.

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5 Comments
  1. December 8, 2009 12:15 pm

    Tough situation you're in right now. Family can be quite tricky because they are family. You can't turn your back, nor should you. I'm hopeful you'll find a way to work things out.

  2. December 8, 2009 12:49 pm

    Yeah, it's tough. My family isn't the greatest at showing each other the love and respect we deserve, and no one is ever willing to call someone on it when they are out of line. I try to look from her perspective before I spout off about how she makes me crazy, but the past few weeks,I have tried so hard to really work on my issues and be a better daughter/sister/mother, but I really feel like I'm the only one making the effort. And she gets mad at me when my dad takes my side (which he often does) when she's wrong. In her mind, her husband should always take her side, no exception. I've come to accept that she'll always be my mother, and that's probably all she'll ever be.

  3. December 8, 2009 2:05 pm

    Yeah, it's tough. My family isn't the greatest at showing each other the love and respect we deserve, and no one is ever willing to call someone on it when they are out of line. I try to look from her perspective before I spout off about how she makes me crazy, but the past few weeks,I have tried so hard to really work on my issues and be a better daughter/sister/mother, but I really feel like I'm the only one making the effort. And she gets mad at me when my dad takes my side (which he often does) when she's wrong. In her mind, her husband should always take her side, no exception. I've come to accept that she'll always be my mother, and that's probably all she'll ever be.

  4. December 11, 2009 5:05 pm

    Aw, thanks for the explanation.. twice. Too bad things have to be this way. I think it was probably important for your dad and mom to be on the same page when you were young. As an adult it's a different story though. How is your mom's self-esteem?

  5. December 14, 2009 4:09 pm

    Gotta love the mobile-blogging double posting. Yay. Yeah, that's what I think too. As a parent, it's representing a united front (although they never did when I was growing up, which is probably part of the problem).My mom's self-esteem is pretty low. Another reason I think she likes to tear us down.

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