Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother's Day

I woke up this morning and was preparing my underthings for my shower and walking near my new dressers, my foot said "Squish," right into a puddle of canary yellow urine that Rocky left for me. Although I thought of it as his way of saying, "Happy Mother's Day," I still showed him the puddle and popped him on his nose.

I wish I didn't feel so much angst today. I really hate every holiday that requires me to give my mom a gift. I wish I could love to lavish her with gifts from the part of my heart that gives dollars to people begging on the train. The part that swells with kindness and compassion that signals to the part of the brain that says..."This person really appreciates this dollar. They didn't expect it. They are grateful." Mom is not grateful. Last year, I made her a lovely tasty dinner. I made salmon, steamed broccoli with cheese sauce and arroz con maiz (yellow rice with tomato and other veggies in it). For dessert, her favorite ice cream in a fancy glass all served to her while she watched some TV as if I were a waitress. She said she liked it but a few months later, said, "Why didn't you take me out for Mother's Day?"

"I cooked for you. You said you liked it."
"I did but you could've taken me out."

I was hurt and slightly embarassed.

So, this year...I could've done more. I didn't plan properly for this stupid holiday. I did actually see things that I liked and would've made her smile but no, I didn't get it. I coould've sacrificed a little here, penny-pinched there. I could've gone out of my way over there...but I didn't because I didn't want to do it and then have her throw it in my face. She bought me a ticket for her church's Mother's Day dinner and text me on Friday saying that she'd done so. Firstly, I HATE her church. It starts at 10am. You leave at 2:30. The preachers aren't quite articulate at times. It angers me to spend hours upon hours in church getting nothing out of it. I went last week because she got ordained but going feels like an obligation. Secondly, going means I have to smile at people and make faux conversation and hear how my mom is more of a mother to other people than to me. How she listens to them patiently and counsels she checks up on them and makes sure they're okay and listen to them tell me how if she does that for them, a mere stranger, how I must have the greatest mother in the world.

Yes..the greatest mother in the world wouldn't even take down her air freshener that caused me to cough painfully and incessantly when I was sick in September just because she didn't want to...and told me its her house, if I didn't like it, I have my own apartment.

I told her, "Honestly, I do not like your church. I would rather go to my own church." She said she understood. Right. And so the message today at my church was about parenting. My pastor used the parable of the prodigal son to illustrate how parents should raise their children. Brief recap: 1)they should raise them to be able to make choices. 2) to understand the each choice has consequences and 3)they should have compassion. The last one he said that when you lack compassion when raising your child, you make them indifferent. That child will tell other children's parents good news about school or something they've achieved and tell you "oh, it was fine." How do you lack compassion as a parent? Well, you tell them that nothing is good enough. They come and spend all day Sunday with you and you tell them they should've come on Saturday. They cook you dinner on Thursday. You tell them you have to eat on Friday too. Indifferent chilren know they can't please you so they don't even try. He also says what usually happens is that the older you get, the less they want to be around you. It was like he was reading my mind.

And so I got home, ate, fell asleep and I called her at around 6:46 when I woke up.
Conversation goes like this:

Happy Mother's Day.

Oh you finally remembered me?

When I woke up you'd already left for church.Oh
How was the dinner?Really really beautiful and so delicious!
That's nice.
Yea, I'm so tired.

I keep thinking about how one day she won't be here and how I should work through my own issues because she's not going to change. I should press through whatever barriers I have and fake it. Make her feel whatever..but I can't.

Maybe one day, I'll regret it. Maybe one day, I'll be less indifferent.

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