Each time I leave on a trip it takes at least 12 hours to pack & prepare for departure, some kind of OCD thing that kicks in & completely overwhelms me. To add a kinky twist we went to our Wednesday night bowling league — we are dedicated athletes – then drove all night.
By arriving on Thursday we were able to visit with my aunt’s family before the onslaught of wedding guests. We got to see their new home, which started out like this:
As if that wasn’t nice enough, they turned it into this:
My daughter got to visit with the new baby AND his big sister, my favorite grandmother’s namesake. She was in heaven:
My uncle is one of the funniest, most interesting people in the entire world. His entertainment center holds a total of seven televisions, which he watches simultaneously. This masculine multi-tasking makes him THE MAN in my book, which is why he gets this incredibly creative picture collage along side his favorite girl:
Even the poolside cabana is perfectly groovy, smells like cedar & has its own flat screen. I half-expected Robin Leach to appear with a flute of champagne in hand:
The following day we helped decorate tables for the wedding, checked out the park venue & observed the rehearsal. It had been planned with the precision of a military operation. My daughter may have no choice but to get married in Vegas like we did. I have no idea how my aunt choreographed the actual live bison to approach the fence line immediately following the ceremony. She might possibly have been carrying raw meat in her pockets.
On to the rehearsal dinner!
. . . . .
Reality Sets In
Lurking in the back of my mind, it was impossible not to be aware of the fact that my mother would be in attendance. It’s like Godzilla is on her way, you’re waiting for the air to be sucked from the room.
We stayed in the same hotel, four rooms separating us, way too close & uncomfortable for oh so many reasons.
My sister’s boyfriend didn’t want to come & share the room because he was sure Mom farts in her sleep. All overeaters are notorious for methane release; the gastric band has not slowed down Mom’s love of ice cream, garlic bread & all things chocolate. Coming out her ass in a waft of particulate waste, it’s toxic. Boyfriend Mike is smarter than he looks.
My husband & daughter were on high alert for more than one type of accidental cross-fire. For 40 years there has been an unspoken rule that Mom can say & do whatever she likes; no one will call her on it or question her motives. I haven’t been following that directive. Mother & I had been battling by e-mail since my brother’s funeral just a month ago. However, hand to hand combat is a different story.
Fear is a mental stun gun. It took me 35 years to realize I can out-run this woman if necessary. She can’t walk very far without taking a puff on her inhaler.
I arrived at the rehearsal dinner first, she came later. We looked like boxers in a ring. No robes, no pretend hugs & kisses. She blew any possibility of my kissing her senior citizen ass when she balked at paying her son’s funeral bill. I might have flunked “Personal Health & Weight Control” in college, but I got straight A’s plus bonus points when my husband privately tutored me in “Once I Am Done With You I Will Hold A Grudge Forever.”
* * * * *
Moronic Ram-ificiations
You will possibly remember that Mom’s third husband did not attend the wedding due to his idiotic commitment to some Bible verse that supposedly claims inter-racial marriage is a sin. Mom agrees with this stupidity.
(Even Jesus is trying to figure out a way to convince these idiots to leave the flock. I’ve heard He’s considering putting out a book that emphasizes his origins as a Jew, the fact that his skin is more black than white, & the unpopular reality that Mexicans are doing God’s work in the lawn care & carpentry industries.)
Here’s a picture of Mom & her Bible Beater, looking very normal about 25 years ago:
This was back when I’d just met him for the first time, they told me they were getting married . . .
And then he somehow worked it into the conversation that black men could “go all night long” with white women because of their scientifically unproven “lower body temperatures.” He gave the impression this was a hot commodity with obese nymphos like his first beloved wife.
I kept thinking that in his drunken state maybe he was confusing this with her desire to spend a long night with a big ol’ warm pan of brownies. She’d keep saying, “No, honey! That’s not what I meant! Brownies! BROWNIES!”
Anyway, due to the snide feelings regarding the black/white issue, at the rehearsal dinner I repeatedly mentioned how beautiful the bride & groom looked, how happy they appeared with one another. It was utterly & completely true. Plus, the joy I find in ball-busting is immeasurable & priceless.
Unfortunately we were unable to discuss the scientific conclusions of my step-father in his absence, nor their potential for a possible Nobel Peace Prize.
I am hoping some big dude will eventually get him on all fours & consider all the RAM-ifications.
October 10, 2008 at 10:26 am
You make my family seem normal.
Ahh, but we both know they’re not:) I love your posts about them!
October 10, 2008 at 11:57 am
The idea of any sister’s boyfriend sharing a room with your mom is outright bizarre! If a boyfriend ever suggested that I share a room with his dad, I would immediately break up with him and run as fast as I could!
Mom originally booked two rooms, she would have paid for both. Then she decided it was going to be too costly.
For some reason there is no possibility of my sister paying for her own hotel room, they only sleep in truck sleepers, campers, etc. I know he’s slept in the camper with Mom on more than one occasion, now that I think of it! When they went to Harley rally it was Mom, her ex, my sister & her boyfriend all in the same sleeping space.
This is why I am offended when my mother jumps to buy her own ticket at the theatre & doesn’t offer a snack item to her granddaughter, the one she sees once a year. My niece Samantha: $5,000 to get out of jail; my daughter Rachel: zero for chocolate-covered raisins.
October 10, 2008 at 1:55 pm
Ah Pamajama, always looking at the glass half-empty… So sad!
Look at the upside: If your mother were spoiling your daughter rotten, your daughter would want to spend a whole lot of time with your mom. She would absolutely insist on it.
Do you really want your sweet daughter to be longing for the presence of Grand Mama Dearest? I didn’t think so.
I’m pleased to read your point of view, as you are so right. God, what a fucking nightmare that would be if my mother were smart enough to get true payback against me by making my daughter love her. I’ve definitely got to get this glass turned in the proper direction!
October 10, 2008 at 6:43 pm
Oh, how I love it when you post.
I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. XO
October 11, 2008 at 3:43 pm
Ahhhh, gotta say Pam….I remember many trips where the family blissfully were sleeping in their beds the night before, while I packed and got everything that wouldn’t have gotten done if I stayed home, DONE! LOL! OCD at its finest. Then I would sleep for a couple hours in transit, and be exhausted our first night away.
I have to say you have outdone yourself (although I haven’t read part III yet) with this post, as I can ‘feel’ and remember so well the dreaded dis-anticipation of meeting up with the mother in whatever social occasion we were on our way to…..the feeling of anxiety, the dread, the “I would rather be anywhere else but where I am going” thoughts.
And kudos to you on breaking the rules! For not being willing to keep playing her game. LOL…that’s where I got in trouble 8 years ago….I had finally dealt with enough of my emotions from my screwed up childhood, and was choosing healthy instead, and not playing that game anymore. So I was written off as an ungrateful daughter……and that and more were repeated to many family and friends. I just decided to be true to who I was, not react, and be loving when I met up with those family and friends. It didn’t take long for them to figure out the truth.
And I am with Nathalie…..I refused to allow my kids to spend time with my mother unless I was there. It didn’t happen often, and they were the wisest of them all. Once when my mom wanted them for a week before Christmas (she was watching my sisters kids that week), we said no, and when we told my 12 year old, he said “that’s okay, she just wanted us so we could help her babysit.” LOL. Out of the mouth of babes.
And Pam, let me apologize now….I think this is one of my rambling ones that might not be easily understood…..lol…but I am not in the mood to edit….so follow…kay? Just figure it out!
I didn’t think this was very rambling at all – maybe I’ve learned to speak the language?!
I left my son with my mother once for 15 minutes and that was all it took to never, ever do it again. He was 3 mos. old, I ran back in the house and Mom had laid him on the floor & the dogs appeared very interested. Never, never, never. And my daughter doesn’t even want to spend time with her when she’s IN my company, let alone without. Recent actions make it even less likely. Thanks for hanging in there and listening to my bullshit.
April 27, 2009 at 11:19 am
I love how you rubbed the racial issue in your mom’s bigoted face. That sorta reminds me of the one and only time I met my great aunt on my dad’s side when I was 18. She was really old but still wore a jet black wig, and looked exactly like my grandfather would in drag. 9/11 had happened recently and she lived in Manhattan. We having a big family meal and she randomly spouts off with this statement: “I saw that list of the firefighters who died, all brave Irish boys…and not a single Jew among them!” You could hear jaws hitting the plates on the tables. That christmas my dad made sure to send her christmas present wrapped with hannukkah paper.
OMG – I don’t get the Jewish hatred at all — but looking like your grandfather in drag almost makes up for all the rest – lol. Your dad sounds great! The prejudice issue came up again on this trip and I’ll be writing about it.