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