If you haven’t caught on to this series yet I have mother issues. Because I have my mother issues I need to sit down and logically recognize what they actually do to me. Things my mother has made me.
Growing up I was extremely self conscious of everything, how I looked, who had what, etc… What has happened as an adult is that I just don’t care. I don’t care what you have. I want what I want for my own reasons. As I’m getting older I can care less what society thinks about me, so essentially I’ve become the polar opposite of my mother. Though Xie will tell me that isn’t always the case.
Because of growing up in my household I learned to thrive in chaos. This is great in some of things I do since I can make order out of chaos (well at the same time creating more chaos around the thing I made in order). Unfortunately for those around me this isn’t always a conducive environment for those that deal with me.
I get my anger from my father, and I’ve spent many years getting that in check and controlling. It’s something I have to deal with. I have learned however people like my mother are the ones that are most likely to set me off at a moments notice. This is why I didn’t marry a girl like dear old mom. My father after the divorce seems to have his anger issues in check, can we say common denominator?
I base(d) alot of what I know about relationships from my parents and their interaction. When things aren’t going well in my own relationships I’m completely oblivious since things aren’t explosive like my parent’s relationship was. While our child isn’t born yet we don’t know truly who the enabler and the disciplinarian will be. I’m pegged for the enabler, and that’s not necessary a good thing. If I get that from anyone it’s going to be my mother. I just need to make sure my son doesn’t become a spoiled brat.
Frustration at stupidity. The exasperation I get over comments that are idiotic, that comes completely from my mother. I have mentioned her belief that ninja humanoid turtles were possible. I used to do all of her proof reading for her college homework when I was in high school, and I was responsible for the rewrites. When I was about fourteen she said she was smarter then me. What she may have meant to said was wiser, though I don’t think that was the case, since if she was wiser or smarter she would have said the word wiser. Also for anyone wishing to defend her on that one, she still says she is smarter (Oprah must have told her she was). I have a standing offer to pay for an IQ test so we can settle this once and for all, if she is write (highly unlikely) I may just kill myself since it will be proof that intelligence means nothing. On a side note recently I was just talking about sitting for the Mensa exam. I don’t know if I’m Mensa smart, I may not be, but I’m confident enough to actually sit for the test.
The last thing is I get insane over little requests people ask of me. I better be in the right frame of mind because I can go ballistic if it’s something they can do for themselves. I’ll give you the story I use to describe this whenever I talk to someone about her. When I was in high school I told my mother I was going to be taking a bath (yes I’m a boy and I like baths get over it). She acknowledged me and said she was going ot cook dinner. At this point everything is fine and dandy. About 10 minutes later I’m in the middle of reading a book and my mother starts screamiming my name. Now this isn’t a your in trouble name scream, nor was it a where are you at name scream. What it sounded like was the “OMG THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE” scream. I threw on a towel and rush down the stairs.
Well the emergency? My mother needed a wash cloth to do dishes . Her answer about me being in the bath? “I forgot”. In ten minutes she forgot what she had been told and acknowledged (and I’m sure she heard the bath water run) and put all of that aside for her immediate need of a wash cloth. To make matters worse, she thought I was down in my room. Now our family was a plit level. The kitchen on the main floor, the bathroom on the second floor, and my bedroom on the lower floor. In theory give or take ten feet I would have had to expend the same amount of energy to come from my room or the bathroom to come to the kitchen. She would have expended half the energy (minus the energy to start yelling) to go down to the second floor and get it herself. It was absolute pure laziness. I pointed it out to her, and she didn’t care. She wasn’t old or invalid, she was healthy and approxiamately the same age as I am now. The worst part, I was dripping wet, freezing, and I still had to get the washcloth.
I was a sucker and should have said no, but I was a mama’s boy. That story though is an example of many many things that are quite similar. Because of her necessity or decorating the house for the holidays, I now loath decorating for the holidays/ I have never had a christmas tree in my house, that may change next year with the kid on the way. Compared to my mother’s house and her record breaking three christmas trees she did one year, my house will be quite sparse.
My mother likes to tell people how things are to be decorated and have everyone else do the work. After the divorce I became the man of the house. I learned to loath the holidays. When your mother is healthy you shouldn’t be fifteen and being Santa Claus setting up the tree late at night for your siblings, but yet I was. I love the holidays, I just hat emy mothers version of them. These days though i’m preferring Halloween over Christmas, black and gory for the win.
Ok I’m stopping now otherwise this will become the post that will never end.