Tuesdays with Morrie? Or Saturdays with Mom?

The TMI Tuesday questions weren't very interesting (to me) this week, so one less meme ... which I'm sure some of you are grateful for!

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Let me first make a confession - I never read, nor saw, Tuesdays with Morrie. I did scan the SparkNotes to make sure it was the plot I thought it was, because if it wasn't? This post title wouldn't make a lick of sense. So ... there is that!

Anywell *bonus points to any sports talk radio fans who get this reference* ...

Since moving to Las Vegas, I have been rekindling my relationship with my mom. We spent decades apart, talking maybe once every 6 months? There were many reasons for this - too many to list here - not all of them faults of mom. 

Initially, when Mike and I moved here, there were some boundary issues. Mom would stop by the apartment, unannounced, once or twice a week *WARNING* This is one of the quickest ways to piss me off in a nanosecond so we quickly came to an agreement that I would spend Saturday afternoons with her - a mom date of sorts. Every Saturday, at 2:30 PM, I pick her up and we go to our now favorite neighborhood bar, have drinks, eat lunch, and discuss the meaning of life. It's also the one day of the week that I put makeup on because mom tells me she is embarrassed to be seen with me if I'm not wearing makeup. That should give you some insight into the tone of my relationship with mom.

About half of the time, these dates end in some sort of drama, usually instigated by mom having one too many dry manhattans. 

There was the time when we were leaving the bar and when she opened the car door, slammed it into the car next to us ... which just happened to have someone in it. Fortunately, there was no damage, but it got pretty dicey there for a bit as she insisted that she didn't hit their car (she did).

Then there was the time she decided it was a good idea to be extremely critical of my parenting. As I tried to keep my cool, she continued to poke the bear. That date ended in me telling her to "FUCK OFF" and walking home.

*SIDE NOTE* This was before I insisted on being the designated driver for our dates. I am now - always - the designated driver and I do drink responsibly.

We had one of these drama Saturdays this weekend ... again dry manhattan fueled. When dry manhattan fueled, mom has a tendency to forget what she says, then when I question her on it, she insists she didn't say whatever the offensive remark was and gets beyond defensive. Me being me, rather than just letting it go, I turn into a right fighter. I'm sure Dr. Phil would ask, "How's that working for you?" Mom then abruptly stood up and left the bar. I had to chase her down, pour her into my car, then go back in and pay our tab.

I'm still undecided as to whether or not Saturdays with Mom are beneficial to our relationship, or a snapshot of everything that has ever been wrong in our relationship.

For now? I just need to work on being "nice" for the three hours we spend together each week. I'm certain that mastering that skill will be valuable in other aspects of my life, right??

Road Trip Thoughts - The "L" Word

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No ... not lesbian (don't be too disappointed) ... LOVE. There! I said it! Are you happy now?

What am I talking about? Well, I am not one to use the "L" word very frequently. Just typing it gives me the heeber-jeebers. Quite honestly, it is a word that has brought me far more disappointment than happiness. How can that be? It's such a wonderful word - one that evokes deep emotion - one that is used to express the ultimate sentiment - and one that is often, in my experience, used carelessly.

My problems with the "L" word are many. It is a single, four-letter word used to convey a full spectrum of feelings, it rarely means the same thing to the person saying it as it does to the person hearing it, and it requires action - not just from the vocal chords, but from the person uttering it. It's not just a word.

One shared trait in my family (which fortunately, is not genetically transferred) is their ability to hold on to - and rehash - the past. During one of these many moments during my recent visit, there was a brief discussion between my mother and I that went like this:

Mom: You felt loved growing up, didn't you?! (not really a question, but rather a statement indicating how I should answer the question)
Me: No, I didn't. You may have said you loved me, but I didn't feel loved.
Mom: Yes you did! We did everything together!
Me: If you already knew the answer to this question, why did you bother asking?
Mom: I can't believe you are saying this, embarrassing me in front of the family, when you know it isn't true.
Me: *looks down*shakes head*

My mom just couldn't seem to grasp that just because she said she loved me - many, many times a day - it didn't necessarily follow that I felt loved. That actions really do speak louder than words. That doing something hurtful wasn't negated by simply uttering the "L" word. It was then that I realized why the "L" word is such a thorn in my side - it is an easy word to say, but an extremely difficult word to live.

Although I don't say it often, I strive daily to live the "L" word - to show those I care about how I feel - and I punctuate my actions with the verbal "L" word. I so hope I'm doing this right ... or at least better than it was done for me.

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Sunday Secret

At the age of 12, I knew I had become a "big, fat" embarrassment to at least one of my parents when my "mom" asked me to start calling her by her first name when we were in public places so that people wouldn't know I was her daughter ... and yes, she was serious.

Wordless Wednesday