| Tuesday, May 1, 2007 |
| Putting the 'fun' in dysfunctional |
My family.
My parents divorced way back when I was 5. Throughout my growing up, my father was the stable one - he never said a bad word about Mom, came to all our games, school plays, etc., took us on family vacations, always had good advice whenever we faced up to life's challenges. My mother was another story. In separate incidents she called my dad a 'f**khorse' and called my stepmother a 'f**king menopausal bitch'. Good times. My mom loved us, of course, but she often acted childish. More than once I was sent out to canvas the neighborhood looking for my brother yet, when he told her to f**k off and I told him not to speak to her like that, Mom screamed at me that I wasn't the adult and it wasn't my business to discipline my brother.
Right.
So I was talking to my brother today (he's approaching his 30s and I'm just into them) and we were comparing notes about how different factors in our lives have taken us out of the parental hotseat. For me, the birth of my son made the most difference. You'd think it would be something like graduating from college or getting my first grown-up job or even getting married, wouldn't you? Nope. It took the birth of my first child to get my mother off my case.
My brother's case has been improved by having a fiancee everyone adores. They are sure she will take excellent care of him so "they" can stop worrying so much. This, however, didn't keep my mom from freaking out when she had a dream about a minor surgery my brother had getting infected. Did she worry about my major abdominal surgery (c-sec)? Thank God, no. She thinks it was no big deal. she even remarked to me on our last visit, "So, did P tell you how much "fun" it is to push a baby out?" Bitch. As if she knows anything about having a c-sec and feeling broken and lied to. Worst of all, she's not even interested.
Ironically, my father is even more paranoid since I've had my son. Turns out he actively subscribes to the "pregnant women are ticking time bombs" school of thought along with almost every medical doctor on the planet. I wish he'd just focus on selling insurance. So, since my son was born, my father is convinced that I've abandoned him (um, sorry, never realized I was responsible for your emotional health) and he actually pitched a fit when my son was a week old. Great timing, Pops.
Why-oh-why can't they let us live our lives? I see parents of my friends who are blissfully hands-off. Even my inlaws are much better at this. My parents' hyper-attention to my life makes me feel like I'm twelve again. And I have a baby and a husband! Ugh.
Maybe one good thing will come out of this: when the Hippo is of age, I'll try my best to remember what it was to be constantly under a microscope. Perhaps I should create an engraved stick with which to beat myself over the head. |
posted by Mama K @ 6:45 AM  |
|
|
|
|
|
