Eve Turns 50

This week Eve turned 50.

And I?...I sent her a card.

That's it, just a card. I did email her to let her know the card would be late. What I didn't tell her was that it was late because I kept struggling with whether or not to get her a present. I was trying to remember if I've ever gotten a present from Eve. Maybe if she had me in the holiday grabbag we used to organize until JSister and I couldn't stand handling all the issues around it anymore. (another story...another day)

I honestly don't think I ever got anything from her. I'm the youngest sister, so I would think I might remember getting more items because she would have been grown and working and on her own while I was still making minimum wage in an after school job. But...nada...at least in my recollection. Not for Sweet 16, not for 21, not for college graduation, not for 30, not for 40.

Anyway, that isn't what gift giving is supposed to be about. But as I tried to come up with the answer of whether (and what) to give, this thought kept recurring. That and remembering how Eve and L-Z-Boy have sent out notices the last few Christmases that they will NOT be buying gifts for anyone (I couldn't remember this being a new practice?) because they were strapped for cash. Well damn, I get that. But then I would hear that L-Z-Boy bought a new motorcycle for himself, and Eve bought an i-Pod for herself.

Now truly - they didn't have the money. They have refinanced their house so many times that they probably still have a 30-year mortgage after living in the house for 15 years. They've even re-financed their van several times. I didn't even know you could do that...I mean isn't a car a depreciating asset? How can you get money from that?

I just found it astonishing that while they couldn't stretch their funds to buy for others, they could for themselves. Given their highly religious positioning as born-again Christians I found this to be a continuation of their hypocrisy. Are you supposed to give to others first?

I honestly don't want a present from her. I'd rather have the gift of enjoying giving to her. I'd rather feel like it doesn't matter that she can't afford to buy something new, and have the joy of giving her something new because I can.

Cuz truly, there is nothing like seeing someone's face light up when you've given them something they love. Small, large, cheap, expensive, hard to get, easy to get, one in a million, one of a million...just as long as it is something that brings them joy.

So this year, on Eve's 50th birthday, I sent a card.

And this year, on Christmas, I'll send another card.

Because I can't think of anything that would bring her joy. And that makes ME sad.

Home for the Holidays

Have you ever seen Home for the Holidays with Holly Hunter (good lord that is a lot of H's)? That never happens in my life. But in my head, that is every holiday I've ever had or ever will have. Truly. It is not bad in real life. But because I have this dread and perception of holidays in my head...it's happening within me, even when all is ok in the real world. Screwy right? Right.

Anyway, I was just on Blue Bamboo, and saw that she had posted about her holiday plans. Travel on Command with MIL, FIL, GMIL, etc. Travel on command because the plans were made and she and her husband and kids were told to get the time off and get on board. I'm assuming this means a paid holiday...and all the natural encumbrances that come with that.

A few years ago, Mom and Bud decided they wanted to go to Hawaii along with Eve, J-sister and their families. We were ENCOURAGED to participate. We refused. We claimed poverty and work issues, but were honest with J-Sister that there was no way in hell we were up for travel trapped with Bud, Mom, Eve and her husband...we'll call him La-Z-Boy since he wasn't in our original cast at right.

And boy were we right. In the course of the vacation, Mom got stuck in an elevator and had a panic attack and La-Z-Boy decided to go off his anti-depressants. Can you imagine Hawaii being turned into a walking insane asylum?

Kip and I are coming up on our 20th anniversary. For our 10th we went to Hawaii - on our own - and I'd love to go back. But no way no how will it be in the company of these crazy people. Luckily the economy will likely keep all of us safely in our own homes.

So then, all I need to sweat about is the "Home for the Holidays' nightmares.

Profile No. 1: WSISTER SELF PORTRAIT

It's only fair to start with myself. If I'm going to pick apart the people I love and who love me...and who represent the other side of the crazy scale from me...I should start at home. Get ready for a long therapy session. But...um...I've never been to therapy, so this is bound to get messy.

Where to start? Well...I think I'm pretty wierd, to be honest. I kind of have this chameleon ability to fit in with a lot of different people, but I don't revel in it...in fact...people freak me out most of the time. If given my preference, I would stay inside my home 99% of the time and only venture out when I can't face the four walls anymore. I like control. I like hosting parties instead of going to parties. I like having dinner at home instead of going to restaurants. I like not taking risks. Lately, I find myself to be awfully boring, a little growth stunted, and not a little bit superior in my attitude toward others. I hate change...it freaks me out...and I usually have to be dragged kicking and screaming into anything new (after many sullen and anxiety filled moments).

On the plus side (god I hope there is one) I'm generally a kind person. I work my ass off. I try really really hard to make sure people around me are happy. I like to laugh...and I love it when my husband makes me laugh. I'm a good wife more than I'm a bad wife. I am at my best when I'm needed. I enjoy a great book and, even more, talking about that book with a friend or my husband. I like art...and I love my husband the artist. I love my sister J. The other siblings are a bit of a mystery to me. I love my nieces and nephews, and 99.999% of the time I'm at peace with the decision I made not to have children of my own.

The holidays make me crazy. I mean have you ever seen Holly Hunter in "Home for the Holidays?" - yeah that's me, but I'm way less cool.

A friend recently observed that I tend to surround myself with troubled people. I paused for a moment and asked her...but how many of them are NOT related to me?

I sometimes yearn to win the lottery...but then I wonder what the hell I would do with all that money? I lack a sense of adventure. My imagination is limited to the little vignettes that play out in my brain. People tell me I can write, and I enjoy it - both the writing and hearing that people think I can...but I'm not sure I really believe it and I don't think I have the discipline, energy, or focus to pull anything together that could be deemed worthy of publishing.

I love luxurious things. I would love to own a great car. But when the chance arises, I cheap out when it comes to making the purchase. I have Niemen Marcus taste, and a Sears tolerance for spending. I lack the shopping discipline to save up and buy classic pieces, so my little tiny closet (sigh) is filled with cheap imitations that don't last through more than a few laundry cycles. I secretly want to be a fashion diva, but I dress hyper conservatively - right down to my black leather 2-inch heel pumps. The show and movie Sex and the City made me green with envy. The crazy fashion. The adventurous and high-priced Manhattan lifestyle. And the deep and abiding friendships of four women. You see I have many friends who I love to death, but who I'm not really sure I know or who really know me.

Lately I've noticed my anxiety is extending beyond my own life and connecting empathetically with fictional characters in movies and tv. I recently had to do a project for school that focused on improving Sears retail business. Now I watch Sears ads and my stomach muscles tense, wondering if business is improving.

Seriously. I'm getting nuttier by the minute.

So now that you know a little more about me, you can take my posts and my profiles of the rest of my crazy gene pool in context of my own little crazy point of view.

My Mom So Does Not Get Me

Once again I find myself hiding out here to respond to my mother.


I'm kind of speechless though.


All I can think to say is, she SOOOO doesn't get me.


My other blog has a title that expresses my battle against small spans of time where anxiety overcomes me. Anyone who really knows me totally gets that I sweat the details...too much. Anyone who knows me knows I am not just a little bit neurotic. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't let it stop me, but it certainly gives me pause now and then. Anyone who knows me knows that I usually take these moments and seek the comedy inside them or my reaction to them to battle them.

My Mom? She actually left a comment on my blog that said this,

"Not sure about your new look but I never understood the anxious moments title in the first place.I guess that is not what I want your life to focus on."

This comment is simultaneously touching (she cares and doesn't want me to worry) and also sad (because she so does not get me).

Profiles

I've decided to spend some time during November creating profiles for each of our "characters"...and our family is FULL of characters. So get ready world. I'll be introducing them one by one starting tomorrow.

J-Sister - you'll have to do your share as well....

What's a Daughter to Do?

Disclaimer: I love my mom. I know someday I will lose her and look back on these moments with disbelief that I ever felt the way I do....but I do...I can't help it. A comedian once said, "Of course your mom knows how to push all your buttons! She installed them!" And that is the truest statement I've ever heard.

----

On Saturday the phone rang and I buried my head under the blanket and said, "If it's mom - don't pick it up." I struggle with that feeling alot, because I feel that the one time I don't pick it up will be the emergency call that I need to be there for. Lately I've found myself saying, "I'm going to call Mom and get it over with." This is the feeling I have that if I do a pre-emptive strike by calling her, I've managed to dodge the bullet of getting the call when I just can't get up the enthusiasm to talk.

I'm not a parent, but I have to say, this is the most ungrateful, selfish, terrible thing I can imagine hearing from a child you've brought up. All the sacrifices my mom made for me go right out the window when I think of having to deal with her "stuff".

Recently, a friend saw her comments on my other (public) blog and said, "You really should block her from commenting." So I felt vindicated that others saw that her comments are often read as criticism - even of me - her most favored biological child (imagine how the other half-siblings feel!). She recently posted a comment on my husband's blog that made him feel she had no confidence in his abilities at all. Today she sent me an email reminding me of when Bud's birthday is (day after Thanksgiving) and that we need to have a plan to celebrate it. Why doesn't SHE make the plan to celebrate it? Then she said she was going to bake the special recipe bread that I always make for the holiday and bring it...is this just being helpful? or more likely her belief I won't get to it. I don't know. I truly believe she doesn't mean to be mean. I truly believe she doesn't understand how it sounds and how we feel when we hear it.

But it doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

And doesn't make me pick up the phone any faster.

CONTROL FREAK !

Do all females feel like they need to be in control or is it just Eve.

She wants to have a 50th Birthday party - for herself! She asked me and a friend of hers to plan this party; however, Eve sent us the list of people she wants, invitation, told us where to have the party, what kind of food and drinks or lack of drinks! Non-alcoholic - which really is ok because she has many alcoholic friends, including her husband....
Now she tells me she wants to check over the evite before I send it...





CAN YOU SAY CONTROL FREAK! even her friend thinks so (email: she wants us to organize and do all the work, but she still has to be in control!!) But wait a minute.....she is doing this "control" becuase it really isn't "her" it's "GOD" working through EVE.
Whatever! I'll have the party like a good little soldier and be out of town 5 days later!

EVE - what a Bitch!!

Where did she come from - oh yeah...Bio-M! Why can't she just take care of her own FUCKED UP life...stop controlling everyone around her. REALLY!
I (and Kip) tried to help nephew with his laptop - she thinks I am trying to steal it? keep it? if Eve and loser husband weren't so cheap, they would have had it set up before leaving the store instead of handing it to their son in a box....when they purchased this laptop, there were rebates - if I had not taken care of these forms, receipts, mails...she would not have received the rebate check!
I moved for employment purposes - but I feel like I owe her my life! as she reminds me in subtle ways; and her need to "pay" back the time I helped her. I don't help people because I want to be "paid" back in any form.
Due to my living arrangements, she and loser blame me for his problem relationship with his mother - we agreed not to talk about the house; they agreed not to ask questions about us living in house; but she (they) can't stop themselves! she has to control every situation.
I wonder when I'll tell her were moving north!!!

Scrooge Has Nothing on Me

Tis the season to be miserable.

Who was the moron that decided to put three major holidays within 4 weeks of one another? Don't they know we need time to recover in between? Don't they know it is too much family for anyone to take? Don't they know that our wallets are aching? What on earth were they thinking???

I hate - H.A.T.E. - this time of year. The days get shorter and daylight fades. It gets cold and dreary. The end of year pressures build at work. And, to top it all off, the peer and family pressures are, well, pressuring for celebration, gifts, travel, commitments, etc.

I used to love the holidays. And I used to love to give gifts and celebrate with family. But now it always seems so tough. I wish I was organized enough to buy a gift when I see it and am inspired and put it away for the holidays. Instead, I do a 1 or 2-day marathon shop and end up buying stuff, just to buy stuff. I don't know if the gift I get is wanted or needed, and lately I've been copping out by getting gift certificates or sending checks. I feel like I'm buying the holiday off.

Decorating my house is another sore subject. The idea of spending a weekend climbing up on my roof and gutters to attach lights that will have to come down a month later (when it is even colder and darker out) seems ludicrous. And the tree thing? I used to love the tree. Now it seems like such an effort, and I need to move furniture around, sweep up needles, unpack ornaments, and then undo it all again a few short days later. I mean, really, who has the energy?

I'm trying to remember when the holiday season became more of an obligation than a joy. I guess it happens right after you stop being a kid and have to be an adult. As a kid it's the time when you get presents (but don't have to give them), you stay up late and eat fattening foods (but aren't worried about being tired or fat), you go to many parties (but never have to figure out which ones or how to gracefully refuse that pressing invitation to great-aunt what's her face).

I started getting pressure in August from Mom about where we would be for holidays, what was the menu for Thanksgiving, could we take time off around Christmas, etc. etc. etc. My in-laws (thank god) are much more low-key and just say, "We'll see you when..." which is a relief, but also puts the onus back on us to plan something each time as well. Christmas and New Years mid-week is always an extra pain in the neck as well - Technically we only have the Thursday off - so that means we have to plan - do we take off Monday to Wednesday and go back to work on Friday? Take Friday and have to travel on Christmas and New Year's Eve? Family will be in town before Christmas but not after - so if you want to see them this is the time, but since you have to take a week off in January for your niece's Bat Mitzvah, taking extra time at holidays is a problem...and on and on and on.

I wish I could garner up the emotional wherewithal to love this holiday season again and be all "It's a wonderful life" but I just haven't got it in me anymore. I really want to be a turtle and pull all my limbs and my head into the shell until it's all over.

So if you come by my place between Thanksgiving and New Years, rest assured, you will be warmly greeted and will enjoy wonderful company, and good food and drink (which we have year round!), but don't count on a kick-ass gift (and don't give me one, I still have most of them from last year unused and unspent), lights, a tree, or mistletoe.

So. Bah Humbug and stuff.

With Love and Little Malice,
W-Sister

Shaking with Anger

I have been literally shaking with anger today. And not at my family. At my job.

If I post this on my usual blog space, however, Mom will read it and will go ballistic on her advice to me about my job. So this is a little about my family after all.

This morning - my value was questionned. Now, I've had a lot of frustration over the years with little things here at my place of work, but the one thing I always had was the feeling that my efforts were valued. But now, in this world of budget cuts and finger pointing, I actually had an executive at my company questioning where I was charging my time and what was the purpose of my activities. First of all, I don't report to him. Secondly, my budget does not roll up to him. Thirdly, are you FUCKING KIDDING ME??? Take care of your own world first Dude, then you can teach me best practices on budget management and time efficiency. But until then, just STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY.

I actually typed my response to his email with a line that said, "If you want me to quit to save the company money, just tell me." But I thought better of it and deleted it before hitting send. I will however, take the next opportunity I have to see him and talk to him face-to-face.

Until then, I'll keep stewing on this one. And maybe I'll work a little less UNPAID overtime for the next few weeks. Since my efforts are not really of value anyway.

Hemorrhoids, Polyps and Scopes, Oh My

At the risk of sharing too much information, let me talk a little shit. Or at least shit chute.

Several weeks ago I made Kip take me to the ER at midnight. Because I was bleeding from my ass. Now everyone has had a little spot here or there. You know, too much fibre, too wide a load, etc. (told you this would be a bit much info!). But this time, it wasn't really stopping. It wasn't gushing, but it was there and in more quantity than was comfortable. So we went.

And the humiliation was JUST beginning.

I got a doctor pretty quickly. But, they were short on nurses. So he asked Kip to stay in the room while he conducted a....ahem...rectal exam. Wow. How do you look sexy for your man after this one? Plus? The doctor decided it was a good idea to after the...ahem...rectal exam...hold up the gloved finger proudly and say, "Look, brown".

Oh My Holy God.

Anyway, turns out I have like a small hemorrhoid or something and it was irritated and I got a small tear in it. No biggie. But I've spent over 40 years trying to ignore the more distasteful things about the human body...to be exact, the more distasteful things about MY human body, and in one night it all came crashing down.

Mom recently had some bleeding of her own, and when they scoped her they decided to remove a polyp which tested out as cancerous. They calmly reported they got it all, no need to worry, but of course, anyone (especially Mom) would worry. She contacted a friend who has had full blown colon cancer who relayed to her that she had her 4 kids go for colonoscopies and ALL of them had something suspicious or dangerous in their findings.

Today I got four emails from Mom. Count them. F.O.U.R.
All about how I must go get a colonoscopy. And isn't it great the weather will be nice this weekend. And I should get a colonoscopy. And how she is looking forward to Thanksgiving. And I should get a colonoscopy. And how she bought a cute top. And I should get a colonoscopy. Not that she is trying to run my life. But I should get a colonoscopy - and so should Kip.

So. I guess I know my next stop.

Because the emails will NOT stop.

Colonoscopy here I come.

Hopefully the worst thing I'll hear is "Look, brown."

With Love and Little Malice,
W-Sister

Real.Life.Drama.

Don't you just love A&E's tagline? Well, J-Sister and I were watching us some tv together this week - a rarity - since we live in different time zones normally - and each was wondering about the other's choices.

1. VP Debates. We agreed this one was a must-see. But I admit to spending a lot of time with my hands over my eyes, my ears, my lips. Trying not to see Palin wink at me, trying not to hear her give totally inappropriate energy answers to economy questions, and trying to stop myself from screaming over the top of the whole thing, "How can ANYONE actually consider voting for her ticket???" J-Sister in turn was squirming in her seat because she hates to watch them fight, and do their own squirming around the questions. "This, " she said, "is why I never know who to vote for." At that moment Brooklyn Boy and I almost jumped on top of her to scream - YOU VOTE FOR OBAMA!!!!

2. My favorite Bravo shows - Project Runway and Top Design. J-Sister must have really questioned my judgment here. In fact, she did. She said at least 4 times, "I can't believe you watch this shit!" She changed her tune however when she was in Manhattan and actually saw someone with a Mood bag in Bryant Park. This little brush with real.life.drama may have converted her.

3. What Happens in Vegas - on pay per view. J-Sister's pick. I seconded - thinking it was a harmless chick flick - probably not great - but perfect for a light night's distraction. The truth? DO NOT RENT THIS MOVIE. Not even Ashton Kutscher's hotness can save this one. A.W.F.U.L.

With love and little malice,
W-Sister

I am SUCH a Bitch

While I was busy bemoaning my mother's visit, she was busy soaking up every minute she gets with me and Kip. She truly loves all of us kids - but I will not deny as her only biological child - I am the favorite. Growing up there were some perks to that, but as an adult, there's a lot of baggage too.

Anyway, I felt like a queen bitch this weekend as I sullenly took her to a Broadway show, pissed that I was spending so much money because of the ticket brokers that are eating up all the best seats, and grumbling about her desire to take a car service instead of the train, eat dinner in the city instead of closer to home, etc. When we left the show, she turned to me in tears and thanked me for such a special day and for planning the entire event. She had such a wonderful time and she couldn't remember loving a show more.

I am SUCH a Bitch. I felt about 1 inch tall having been such a spoiled brat all day thinking about what I wanted or didn't want. Really - it doesn't take too much effort to make her happy most of the time and while some people say honesty is the best policy - I'm much more in favor of peacekeeping as a family togetherness art form.

I won't see her again until Thanksgiving - and usually we do some battles over that weekend, kitchen territory, meal planning, close quarters, alcohol, etc. But I'm going to focus on making the effort and keeping the bitchin' to a minimum.

With Love and Little Malice,
W-Sister

Bio-Mom

Wsister asked if I said things to my kids - I really tried not too.

I grew up being told by Bio-Mom that my hair looked like a mop - if a stick was up my butt, I would be a good mop for the floor. I still have hang-ups about my hair.....do you blame me!

When my kids (J-girl, MiddleMan, BrooklynBoy) were younger - I tried never to compare them; which after I think about the pass, I missed a lot of praising I should have done - especially with daughter, J-girl.

Now I have learned a lot from my mistakes and from daughter J-bird's wonderful mothering skills! I talk calmly - or try very hard! Compliment her son - who will never do anything wrong anyways!

The night before we left town - until we have to make our dutiful visit again, we went to dinner with Mom and Bud. Although it is very nice of Mom to take us to dinner - which of course we can never contribute too - I really am grateful, it's just the comments. My hair looks lighter - the CA sun keeps it light - yes I dye it, as Mom reminds me.

I know the comments are not as bad as Wsister - the other ones will be discussed at a later time:)

As for Wsister - she should have waited out the weekend before cutting the "defiant locks"; however, I do understand wanting to just have a peaceful weekend with Mom.

Gird Your Loins

Mom is here for her "weekend" visit. Which means - arrive Thursday and leave Monday or Tuesday. If I count those days on my hand that seems closer to a week than a weekend, but what the hell.

I'm determined to enjoy this visit and not dwell on all those little things that drive me (and her) crazy.

But I anticipate some blog fodder will be generated.

With Love and Little Malice,
W-Sister

Asserting My Independence, Again and Again and Again

Over the past few years I needed a change, and being unable to shed pounds, I decided instead to grow my hair. I haven't had long hair since I was a child and my mother, fed up with dealing with all the upkeep, gave me a lovely pixie cut. Since then, I've only been able to get it to a little above shoulder length before giving up and returning to a short cut.

But I finally did it. A friend of mine even told me I looked like a Breck Girl. Through it all, friends and colleagues told me how pretty my hair was. I reveled in the change of look, even if I secretly hated managing it. Never very coordinated with hair-dos, working with clips, barrettes, bands, etc. was just beyond my talent and I never found a way to do anything in an up-do that looked remotely elegant or professional for work. Inevitably, I found myself banding it in a ponytail toward the end of the work day out of pure frustration.

However, my mother's reaction was very obvious. She hated it. Every time she saw me she'd say, "Oh...you still haven't cut your hair." or "Hmmm...it's getting long...do you REALLY like it that way?" or "But you look so GOOD with short hair." Because of this, I stubbornly stayed true to my long locks - even though my own preference was to cut it - purely to assert my independence from her.

Hello. I'm 41. Am I not yet independent of my mother?

Yesterday I got it cut - not just short, but REALLY short. My stylist was stunned and the entire salon staff was surrounding me at one point just to observe the slicing and dicing of my 'do. I love it, but my joy in it was cut short (no pun intended) by my mother's reaction - "Sooo much better, and you look like you lost weight too."

Is it just me, or does every daughter cringe when they hear that? There is no simple compliment in that line, just a feeling of underlying criticism. It's truly an art form. I'm not a mom, but my JSister is...I wonder if she feels that her kids hear the same criticism in her compliments?

With Love and Little Malice,
W-Sister

Hello My Name is Mom and I'm NOT an Alcoholic

After years of watching my mother's alcohol consumption I'm convinced she has a drinking problem. But her? Yeah, she's not convinced. Here are the symptoms of the problem as I see it:

1. She travels with her own supply. When she goes to my sister's house for the afternoon she brings a double bottle. It's often almost or totally empty by the time she leaves. When she comes to me for a weekend she brings 4-5 bottles. They are most definitely empty by the times she leaves.
2. She buys in bulk. She finds it most cost effective to buy her wine by the case. I guess many people would agree, but are either cellaring the wine, or using in social situations. She drinks it all herself...white wine...before it turns to vinegar.
3. She uses water goblets. She pours her wine to within a quarter inch of the top of the glass and uses water goblets. Once, when I served it in a smaller glass, she complained it was like a juice glass.
4. She has "brown-outs". This is what I call the fact that I never count on any discussion I have with her after "happy hour" being remembered the next day. We often need to revisit it. I was worried it was a sign of Alzheimer's Sundowning until I realized it was tied to the drinking.

Today, I got an email from her. It said, "I am really trying to get more fit. I am drinking less wine and only 3.5 oz at a time and making it last. Even with 2 refills it adds only to one glass that I have had before. I did have 2 glasses when we went to dinner but had had none before."

I can't tell you how happy this made me - although I do have concerns it is because of weight control and fitness that she's making this choice - if she can control her consumption I'm all for it. In the meantime, I don't expect her to stand up and say, "Hello My Name is Mom and I'm an Alcoholic" any time soon.

With Love and Little Malice,
W-Sister