Sunday, March 23, 2008

Mom is a job-description

I've always liked the Terminator. The original one, with Reese and Sarah Connor making out in the motel room. Reese had that whole Highlander thing going with his ratted up trench coat, and Sarah was nothing like the ripped gun-babe from T2. I don't like how he died at the end, but what I really didn't like was how Sarah was only important because she was John's mom.

I think babies need to come with warning labels. This isn't just a cute bundle of joy, but a job. For the rest of your life.

Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. But...I had some serious adjustment going back into "mom"-mode. Not call me up on the phone, or ask for stuff mom, but right there on the spot mom. And my mom is having the same problem with me. Distance is like rose-colored glasses.

I'm a great kid. On the far end of a telephone call.

I've learned a lot about my habits, and how and why I do things, because I never ready thought them out before. I like to stay up late and type at two in the morning. I eat cans. Not cans, like in the aluminum goat-munch style, but "cans" of food. Y'know, open can, pour and nuke. Followed by the old familiar, strip box top off, shove in the microwave meal. And sometime around four pm, I get a sugar letdown and have the grumps until I eat something or take a nap.

It's like spelunking. AKA thrashing around in the dark, wondering when I'm going to hit a wall.

6 comments:

Alice Audrey said...

Ages ago, when I still lived in Madison, my mother came to town to finish up her doctorate. Mom and I have a great relationship, and not just on the end of a phone line. We are sympathetic souls, very much in tune with one another. But there are limits. So long as she was on the other side of town in student housing and I only actually laid eyes on her a couple times a week everything was great.

Then she ran over the allotted year and got tossed out of student housing before she finished her dissertation. She needed a place to stay, and all the apartments in Madison run on a full-year contract with no one subletting at that time of year. I had just purchased my first house and had room to burn. I offered her a bedroom. She took the living room, which had a sliding door, because it was bigger.

She re-arranged the dishes in the cupboard, kept asking when I'd be in at night - I worked at night - and as long as she was there all the furniture from the living room was in an much smaller dining room we had been using as a hall. It took her three months to finish her dissertation. She turned it in, did her defense, and left the same day. When she went I gave her a hug and told her that I loved her very much but was extremely glad to see her go. She said "likewise."

jodi said...

lol--my mom asks when I'll find a place every day. I've taken to leaving my research materials out in plain view. It's just...very uncomfortable. Never thought it would be.

How can visits be so different? It's not even been a few days.

C said...

What a great post, Jodi! LOL! I need to pop by more often! From the posts that I have read, they've always been a good read! ;)

Unhinged said...

Distance is like rose-colored glasses.

I'm a great kid. On the far end of a telephone call.


Yes, exactly.

But it breaks my heart a little to think your mom is already asking when you're going to find a place of your own.

I understand you may WANT to find a place licketysplit, but that she's asking? I'm sorry. I'm going to have to up the ante on my endurance vibes of strength. I'd say ten o'clock (both of our time now) is the time you should feel the most oomph.

But, there is this to consider: after going through what you have, I'm sure your family has little idea of what to say or do, too, and feeling helpless when you know someone you love is hurting is one of the worst feelings in the world. It manifests itself in unexpected ways. So maybe your mom knows you better than you think, and suspects you'll be more at peace when you get your own place.

Humans are complicated. And sometimes life sucks. Put them together in a family situation and you've got evil smelling witchy brew.

Hang in there, Cup. We're still thinking of you.

Jennifer McKenzie said...

Well, honey, moms are weird. That's my well thought out intelligent response.
LOL.
Hang in there. You'll find a place and all will be well.
Have I read this right? You're on the west coast? Two states away from me? Like, in the same TIME ZONE as me?

jodi said...

lol, Jen--yes, I am in the same time zone. I live next to Gwen, and I'll shortly be joining (when I remember to do it) Shelli's chapter. Should be interesting.

Hey C--nice to see you. Have a virtual candy bar.

*sigh* Unhingey. Just *sigh*