7.19.2007

What I Don't Love, Revisted

This morning, I'm driving to work, happily singing along to a Nirvana song on the radio, when my cell phone rings. It's the mother.

I pick up: "Hello?"

Mom: "Kara, I know you told me not to email you, because that made you angry, but someone is coming to look at the house today and your bed isn't made."

Me: "Wait, Mom, I wasn't angry that you emailed me. I thought you were angry at me so I wanted to talk to you and make sure you weren't. Anyway, it doesn't take long to make the bed."

Mom: "Kara, I am so tired of feeling like you won't fulfill your side of the bargain. And I have too much other shit to do with cleaning the house before these people get here. At least I have some time to do it, but....."

Me: "MOM. What do you want me to do, turn around and come make the damn bed?"

Mom: "No, but I just want you to be aware of how you are making more work for me."

Me: "I'll be there in seven minutes."

I call my boss, tell her I'll be late. Luckily, she is the coolest boss ever, so no feathers are ruffled there. I get home, my mom doesn't even LOOK at me when I walk in the door. I go downstairs and make the bed, on top of which she has dumped every single thing that was on the floor in my room. So, to make nicey-nice, I even throw a load of clothes into the washer. I go upstairs.

Me: "Mom, do you have anything else to say?"

Mom: *complete silence, as she continues to wash dishes*

Me: *walking out the door, and as a last minute thought I slam it with as much strength as I can muster*

One thing I absolutely cannot stand is the silent treatment.

So, Mom, how did the showing go? Was it worth straining our already strained relationship?


I am so furious right now.


On top of that, I went by the rental house at lunch and it still has fleas. My husband's brother and his wife are in town today for the weekend, so of course we have to stay at my mom's, with all her passive aggression and inability to communicate. What a nightmare. Thank god I'll be exponentially busy this weekend, competing in the 48 Hour Film Festival.

I need some serious cheering up, peeps.

Boo-hoo.


UPDATE: So I was totally dreading going back to her house, but when I did, she came up and hugged me, and gave me this look that said, "We don't have to say anything. All is forgiven and I am sorry. Let's be good." And, you know, that felt pretty good. Luckily I had had all day, and the ears of some good friends, to help me come down from my pillar of anger. So I hugged her back, and smiled.

7 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. ok, headless, that was either a really betchy comment, or it was a really sappy comment. either way, why delete before i can read?? Booo!

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  3. I bet she could have made the bed in the time it took to call you to talk about it, too.

    Anyway, if that was my situation my mom would probably kill me becuz I make the bed maybe twice a month.

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  4. Oh and something just occurred to me, brought on by your voting thing. You are saving money living with her. So eff it. If you want to take a relaxing night to spend in a nice hotel, why not? You could have crazy hotel secks.

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  5. Wow, what a great idea effina. Fancy hotel sex sounds like JUST the thing to get me outta this horrible mood. :) You're the best.

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  6. Boo,

    I too HATE the silent treatment. I can out yell, scream and cry anyone--but silence? That's just uncalled for and rude.

    Oh, and my mom is visiting us this weekend (yay!!). But the funny/odd/frustrating comments have started already. Such as: "That old lipstick did make your face much more prominent--made it obvious that you needed to do something along the lines of fixing your nose and your teeth." (We have been discussing my nose and teeth since I was 5).

    Does this help at all?

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  7. GWCH: oh NO! oh dear, i have to say that would be pretty intolerable. since you were 5?? isn't that criminal in some states? yeah, the silent treatment, for me, is like spitting in my face. it is infuriating, and of course, since my mom knows me so well, she knows this about me. which makes it even more infuriating. gahhhhh.

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Spit it, betch!