Saturday, December 5, 2015


At a birthday lunch back in June, Mom told me that she really should not have had children.  Happy Birthday to me?  Her words stung a bit, but, honestly, I'd have to agree.  A post-Thanksgiving lunch with Mom and Aunt Nancy yesterday yielded this, and I'm paraphrasing, from Mom: your husband has his work cut out with you.  That shit hurt my feelings, but I could only say, sarcastically, 'thanks for that'.

Mom then peppered me with her usual questions involving an updated picture of me and the hubs ('I bet his Mom has a picture of you'), the '23 and Me' genealogy kit that the hubs had said he'd buy her, but forgot to do so ('he just doesn't care') and not much else.  Although fueled with the question-fire, Mom wasn't motivated to ask what the hubs and I did for our first Thanksgiving back in California since returning home from abroad earlier this year.  I'll tell you all: we stayed home and BBQed a small turkey which we burnt, but masked the flavor with copious amounts of cranberry sauce and mashed yams.  Mom was, however, able to carry on a normal conversation with Nancy.  Why couldn't I get any of that action?

Prior to Turkey Day, Mom had had a bit of a breakdown on the phone with me as I happened to have called the day after Uncle Ken's birthday.  Kenny died last year in a motorcycle accident.  Mom had said that she had mattered to him, and had felt important to him.  I know that they were close in a way that only they, as foster kids raised in the same house, could be.  I miss Ken and am sad he's gone, but I'm more sad for Mom's loss.  She's the lone foster kid who has to make due without the support of her little brother.  She said that with Ken gone I am the closest person to her.  Hearing that made me feel panicky.  I don't feel particularly close to Mom. She's very private and not terribly good at communication, if the above is anything to go by. 

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