Pretty much nothing went as planned today.
We planned to go to my Grannie’s for the day, so I spent the morning packing swimsuits, camera gear and snacks, and straightening up my mom’s house so that it’d be nice for her when she got home. Then we didn’t go because it got a bit late to leave and get back before evening, and my sister was feeling the pressure of a number of things she needed to do but had sidelined over the last week because she was entertaining me. My mom was going into San Antonio for a haircut, so at the last minute I took the baby and tagged along with her.
I fooled around in Half-Price Books while she got her hair cut, and then, because there’s no REI in San Antonio, we went to this incredibly crazy hunting store to look for London rain-gear for my chickens. I have never seen such innovative use of dead animals and animal skulls in my life. More “Texas Stuff” photos to follow—my friend badmagic-# may never, ever, catch up, even if I live in London for years to come.
We ate lunch at the restaurant attached to the hunting store, but there were no suitable raincoats to be bought. Lunch was unexpectedly nice, though. The food wasn’t fantastic, but the restaurant was trying to be somewhat fancy, so we had a glass of wine and lingered over our food, talking and getting along. We shared a secret or two and laughed together—which is not a given with us. In recent years, because of circumstances far too complex to analyze here, we have become awkward, each worried about offending or upsetting the other, reading each other like tea leaves, trying to discern each other’s motives in every word and gesture.
But today I thought it went well. I was enjoying myself with her, and marveling at it even as it was happening. It was the sort of time that keeps me hoping, over and over, that we may eventually be okay again. On the drive home I sat in the passenger’s seat and flipped through a book of Diane Arbus photographs that I had bought, occasionally reading excerpts from the introduction to my mother out loud. Then we were quiet for a little while, and she broke the pleasant silence with a question that she began, “Help me understand why you . . .”
And I tried. But understanding was not really what she was looking for, I think, because within a few minutes, with very little input from me, she talked herself into being really angry, and she said things that even now, hours later, I can’t make any sense of.
And I don’t know what the hell happened.
And I would like to go and stay somewhere besides her house, but I don’t know where to go.
And I am tired, so very tired, of this sad and ugly dance we do.
No Responses
July 1st, 2007 at 12:19 am
Sorry you are having a rough time. If you need some comic relief get the DVDs of the Showtime show “Weeds”. It is fabulous. One of the story lines involves 3 generations of mother - daughter dysfunction. My husband and I watched the first 2 DVDs over the last 2 days.
I guess all we can do is work on our own relationships with our daughters and build towards the future - where I hope when they come and visit us our homes they are given a wonderful peaceful refuge from the rest of their lives. I hope my daughter Aida never has to feel like she must tippi-toe around me.
With out knowing the specifics of your situation (but that won’t stop me from commenting!) it seems like she (your mom) is working out her own shit and dragging you into it. I would just make a stab that she feels guilty about something - that brings out the ugly in a mama. Again, sorry you are having a rough time. I think it is all the Bush karma floating around Texas.
July 1st, 2007 at 4:19 am
I wish you’d give me a call while you’re still within reach.
July 1st, 2007 at 5:58 pm
It’s not easy, trying to get along with mothers. I guess she was bolstered by your good day together and thought that it was the *perfect* to get deeper. Although it’s not easy, try to hold on to the good times you had together that day. And remember that it’s only a short time until you leave for London.
Hang in there–love you lots!
July 2nd, 2007 at 2:39 am
Ummm…are you sure your not having a mother-daughter relationship with MY mother? Like, are you absolutely, positively sure? Because I’m beginning to think you might just be me, staying with my mother. Seriously. I could have written this blog post.
Hang in there. Keep writing, keep taking pictures. Remember: nothing is forever. Nothing.
Will respond to your last email when I have the necessary amount of time. In other words, enough time to do it justice.
Sending thoughts in your direction…
July 2nd, 2007 at 2:41 am
And by the way, Meena needs these:
http://www.trumpette.com/store/index.cfm?fuseaction=product.display&Product_ID=112&CFID=11145914&CFTOKEN=6d9d12d93c0aa651-84988560-CC10-BF94-5C2323D356A11C7B
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