Geeky Mom

I am what I consider a hands-off parent. This is not to say I’m not involved, just that I’m not an in-your-face parent, someone who is involved in every detail of their kids’ lives. Right now, for example, both of my kids (5 & 9) have gotten their own breakfast, eaten it, put away their dishes, and are now getting dressed. I know some parents that would be involved in every step of this process–fix breakfast for them, pick out their clothes, etc. I’m just not that kind of parent. I haven’t even been going out to the bus stop lately because I have put off getting the younger one’s lunch and so I’m fixing that and making sure she’s getting ready.

Sometimes when I’m with my friends who are more in-your-face parents, I can see they don’t approve. But my kids are doing well, thank you very much. And they proved this over Thanksgivng by being well-behaved and starting conversations that most grownups don’t start, like about the physics of the universe or mathmatical theories about the existence of Santa Claus.

I recently saw a segment on CBS news about family dinner time. Some study shows that families who eat dinner together have children who are less likely to become involved with bad things like drugs or gangs. I wonder. I mean, there are families who simply can’t eat together because the parents are both working 3 jobs just to have enough to eat. I don’t know if the study accounted for these situations or socio-economic status. Basically, the segment had a tone of “eat dinner together or else.” In other words, conform to our way of life. I’m always suspicious of these things. Now we do have dinner together, but not always and I think we could find ways to make up for that if we didn’t.

I didn’t start this post as a political rant, but I ended up there. Funny how that happens. I have read quite a few posts lately about the right wingers forcing people to conform to an ideal that doesn’t even exist. When will people just go out and figure out what is really out there and figure out ways for us to deal with it? No, instead, somebody has to have a vision of American and the ideal American and want us all to be that way. Sigh. I guess I’m back on the political bandwagon.

I need something fun, so here it is:

You Are Tequilla

When you drink, you’re serious about getting drunk! You’ll take any shot that’s offered up to you… Even if it tastes like sock sweat! And you’re never afraid of eating the worm.

I do like Tequila, but I’m really more of a beer and wine person. I even took the quiz twice with slightly different answers and got the same results. Oh well.

I should be doing a million (okay, maybe 2) other things, but I’ve had this post in my head for days now.

What makes the holidays hard for me–and particularly hard for me with my mother–is my sister. Or the absence of my sister. My sister died when she was 17 and I was 20 just before my parents’ divorce was to be finalized. I had no other siblings. I have missed out on the unique joy of being able to commiserate about your parents with your siblings. Perhaps an only child misses this too, but I looked forward to it. I had inklings of what I would be missing during the lead-up to our parents’ divorce. We’d talk every day on the phone and I’d get the lowdown on what was going on. She had an almost journalistic eye about my mother’s and father’s various mood swings and strategies. Though I was somewhat grateful for not being in the middle of an obviously tumultuous period at home, I was always grateful for my sister’s insights.

Over Thanksgiving, Mr. GM said he realized how much easier this would be if my sister were around. The burden of dealing with my mother would be lessened and I’d have someone I could go out for a drink with and really let go about the insanity of the whole visit. We were, in fact, staying in the room that is basically a shrine to my sister. It has her old furniture, several pictures and even a few of the mementos that she had kept as a teenager.

My mother got along with my sister better. My sister learned, perhaps from witnessing the many blowups I’d had with her, not to be too “in your face” about her rebellion. She just kept very much to herself. My sister also, on the surface, fit my mother’s vision of what her daughter should be. She was attractive, could wear anything off the rack with style, and was a little more demure than me. Honestly, I don’t know what would have happened had she lived. She was wishy-washy about college, planning to come to the same school where I attended until she figured out something better. She was into acting and was quite good, winning several drama awards just before she died. Perhaps part of my anxiety about my mother stems from a feeling that she was prouder of my sister. Instead of my taking that jealousy out on my sister, I’ve taken it out on my mother.

At any rate, with my mother, my sister is the white elephant in the room. We do not speak of her really, only just in passing. This is in direct contrast to being at my father’s where many conversations will begin, “Do you remember when . . .?” or “I was just thinking about what it would be like if . . .” In other words, we talk about her. We talk about how we feel without her. My father will often call me on the anniversary of her death or on her birthday or I will call him. If we don’t, we mention it in the next phone call. I have no idea if my mother thinks of her on these days and she doesn’t know that I do. I think my mother has pushed the idea of her death, of her absence, to some deep recess of her brain that she tries very hard not to go to. She manages this by going to bed before it gets dark, getting up at 4:00 a.m. and spending the time being busy, smoking, working a crossword puzzle, anything to not think.

Do I feel sorry for her? I don’t know. It’s hard to find sympathy for someone you feel is working very hard to avoid it. I’m not even sure she’d accept my sympathy or any comfort I might offer. She’d have to rethink the last 16 years of her life if she did.

So here it is–a slightly new design. Mostly just updating the colors. It was fun! There are a few kinks, though. Like the posts are still posting my name even though I’ve deleted it. I’ll work it out. So it’s not the fanciest design in the world, but it’s festive. Now, I’m off to the store to get the makings for chili–mmmm!

I’m in the process of redesigning a bit. I actually do a lot of web design in my work, but I’m lazy when it comes to designing my personal stuff. And I don’t have much of a design sense. I’m more of a technical person. So I’m always looking for designs that I like, but that I can personalize without too much trouble. Also, I went anonymous. It will take a while for a google search on my name turning up the blog to disappear, but I decided after the rather personal stuff I had written over the holidays, I didn’t want the family to stumble upon it. Anyway, I’m working on something new that will hopefully be up by the end of the day. Redesigning the blog certainly beats paying bills or doing laundry.

Here I am finally home. I survived, barely. As I said, I wanted to post more details about my trip once home. First the physical issues:

1. Dog hair everywhere–literally you could not sit down without being covered with hair. Our bedside lamp had a halo of fur. Yuck! Pillowcases–covered. Ick! Towels–nice coating.

2. At night, we were basically camping. My SF and mom keep the house at 58° which would be fine if it were warm outside (it was 35) and if we had blankets (we didn’t). The kids were freezing even in long pajamas and Mr. GM and I had to sleep right up next to each other to keep warm.

Annoying habits:

1. My mother always gives a play-by-play of what she’s doing. We’ll be sitting, watching tv and she’ll pop in and say, “I’m going to wash the dishes now.” Like we need to know this. She does this about every 15 minutes.

2. Repetition. My mother repeats everything she says 5-6 times as if we’ve never heard it before. If she hears or thinks of something clever, we’ll hear about it over and over for days. We heard about our daughter’s card lingo at least 5 times: “She’s in there saying ‘I’ve got a trick up my sleeve.’” It was cute the first time.

3. My stepfather is just rude. He always demanded help from Mr. GM. Not once did he say, “Would you mind helping me with something?”

4. My sf eats every meal (if you could call them that) standing up. There is no kitchen table.

5. Smoking. My mother smokes about every 15 minutes–usually before or after the play-by-play. For this, she must go outside. Thus, she never sits down. The woman sat down for a total of maybe an hour in 4 days. Back and forth to smoke.

Obviously, we couldn’t really say anything about the dog hair, but perhaps we could have said something about the temperature. We did ask for blankets as if that weren’t a big enough hint. I’ve been in the temperature battle before with my sf and I don’t want to go there again. My thinking is, you can afford to spend a little extra and/or be a little uncomfortable yourself (reasons given for not upping the temp) for a couple of days to make your guests comfortable. As for the annoying habits, can’t really do anything about those. We see them once a year at most. Just have to put up with them.

Okay, there are worse things. But this was not a pleasant trip. Neither my mother nor my sf asked us how our jobs were or how the kids were (they never sat down long enough). SF tried to arrange a double date with his brother (10 years our senior). We escaped. The family cocktail party (for displaying the grandkids) either didn’t last long enough or lasted too long. It was just weird though it was nice to see my cousins and aunts who are very pleasant people. As Mr. GM said, we just had no control over the situation and it did not feel good. We’re never really made to feel at home. I’m not expecting to be waited on hand and foot, but I need to know where the food is, what the plans are for the day. This is not the house I grew up in, so I need some information. I need to be treated a little less like family and more like a guest, so that I can resume the family role, if that makes any sense. I just need to feel comfortable and I didn’t. Not unusual for a trip to my mom’s.

So I am eternally grateful to be home so I can be myself again.

Stepfather to Mr. GM: “Are you out of the shower?”

Mr. GM: “Yes.”

SF: “Well, get dressed and come help me.”

A longer, more thoughtful post will come after I return. I have little to no privacy here, so I have to sneak about. I have realized that 24 hours is about all I can take for numerous reasons to be explained later. Unfortunately, when you travel this far, you can’t really just stay for 24 hours. Mr. GM has been good and patient. Even though I have visited his family much more often than he’s visited mine, this is by far a worse experience for him. I will try to push aside the negativity for a moment and say what I’m thankful for:

-that I have a family, strange though it may be

-for Mr. GM, who loves me anyway

-for my children, who don’t have issues yet

-for my health

-that I’m happy with my life

-for the internet–seriously

I wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy and be thankful!

So here I am and my first chance to blog. I forgot about the accents. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the south and as soon as I got off the plane, I was bombarded by the accent. Even the announcements were in a drawl. Funny. So far, not so bad. We’ve had a nice discussion about the repeal of the death tax and a brief discussion of health care. We also watched The Amazing Race last night so all is right with the world. Tomorrow is the big event of course and where any complications might occur. Thanks to everyone for the sympathies. It seems I’m not the only one who needs support with the relatives.

I promise some photoblogging later after we get out.

Soon I must begin packing for my trip south to my mother’s. I purchased hairspray at the grocery store; I dyed my hair; and I will pack my makeup. I am accommodating the south and my mother. Mostly, it’s to avoid the “Are you feeling alright? You look pale.” and such comments. I even got my hair cut. I was hoping for something a little spikier, but no one ever believes me when I say that. I must take stylish clothing–Thanksgiving will be somewhat formal plus my mother is having a cocktail party thing for us on Friday. The children need to look nice as well. I also must take reading, the camera (l’ll be photoblogging during the holiday ), and the iPod. Geeky Mom cannot travel without gadgets.

Mr. GM and I are developing some kind of strategy for dealing with politics while we’re there. Our plan is not to bring it up; what we have to work on is when (not if) the other people bring it up. Sigh. These are relatively intelligent people. We can probably agree to disagree. My step-grandmother is of the seriously gentile sort (a wonderfully gracious woman really), so she would never bring it up. Her sons, I’m not so sure. Oh, and then there’s the dogs–I completely forgot about the dogs. I am not a dog person. Small dogs, okay (I had one). Big dogs, I don’t do. I’m a small person. I had a bad encounter with a large dog when I was younger and I’ve never fully gotten over it. Her dogs are kind of in your face. And my mom has dogs. How could I forget this? Ugh, yet another thing to deal with. I’m definitely having a drink on the plane.

Obviously, I need therapy. I can’t handle a simple trip to my mother’s without turning it into a drama. To be fair, Mr. GM is doing the same thing. He deals with it by making jokes. “Oh, I’m going to visit all my new Memphis friends.” “I need to make a trip over to the CS department at University of Memphis.” Yes, well. It probably won’t be at all as bad as I’m making it out to be, but I don’t know. I have some history here. My last couple of trips have had their dramatic moments. My father–who may not be a good source since he left the marriage altogether–feels for me and recommends a stiff drink. Thankfully, I’ll have access to a computer (staying in the room with it in fact), so I can connect to some virtual friends at least.

Wish me luck.