Friday, March 31, 2006

The horror.

I should have known I'd wake up early today. I am hungover, feeling slightly sick and irked beyond belief.
I actually feel a bit depressed.
Lunch turned into the hanky waving tearfest I knew it would. Ma surpassed herself this time. She dredged up shit from the last thirty years including her stretchmarks (Etheline's fault, bigger than average baby), not being able to carry on her career (my eldest sister's fault and our father), her depression, panic attacks, high blood pressure, weight gain (my fault), her certainty that she is about to have a stroke/cancer/brain haemorrhage ( my brother's fault), her 'suicidal thoughts' (everyone)
She bemoaned the fact that nobody cared for her. She wondered aloud why this might be, after all, had she not bled for us, did she not give us life? Was that not enough? What about the scarifices? Her youth, her body, her mind? Why did we wish to hurt her?
On and she went.
By the time we had finished our main course I was wistfully thinking of those halcyon days when we didn't talk at all. Five whole years of blissful silence. Oh sure, she tried to get Etheline to pass messages along. Vicious twisted barbed messages she knew to be hurtful, designed to inflict pain. But what did I care, once we didn't have to talk her feeble arrows did not penetrate my newly liberated hide. And Etheline-to her credit- refused to be a pawn.
If only my eldest sister had been content to live 'in sin' for all her days and not hankered after a wedding. If only.
Naturally, as both my mother and I were attending, a peace treaty had been brokered, a weak spirited, unwanted set of terms adhered to and voila, she was back in. We were connected once again. The silken webs of maternal duty had engulfed me and I was drawn back into the web of family.
By dessert she was a frigate in full sail, her cheeks were pumped up, her eyes shiny with indignation and self pity.
How was she to hold her head up? Everyone would talk. Not that she had a PROBLEM with this new daughter-in-law being BLACK! Oh no, it wasn't THAT. But what would people say? Why had my brother DONE this to her? Why did we not TELL her? (she refuses to accept that we didn't know either and thinks it is some kind of conspiracy)Who was this girl? Wht KIND of person marries on the sly like that?
On and on. I refused dessert, Etheline had cheesecake and picked at it miserably, my mother had the creme brulee, 'even though it will probably give me heartburn all day'
I ordered a coffee.
'You drink too much of that muck.' My mother said. 'It rots your insides.'
I closed my eyes.
Fuck off. I said in my head. I opened my eyes again, Etheline was watching me, her whole face was saying 'Don't do it.'
I trembled. If I just said it and walked out I might get another five years out of it, maybe longer...
Etheline pressed my foot under the table with hers.
MY mother wittered on, oblivious.
So I didn't say it. I didn't say it and because I didn't say it I have condemned myself to more of this torture for a while. But I know me, I know my limits. And she, that narcissistic hypochondriac excuse of a mother, is going to over step them any day now.
After lunch Etheline and I wandered back into town, we went to a bar we know where the seats are comfortable, the lights low and it doesn't attract a trendy crowd. We sat down and ordered beer, something we don't normally drink. We drank beer until we forgot/supressed most of the afternoon.
It took a while.

19 Comments:

Blogger Gorilla Bananas said...

It seems your mother just needs to have a good moan. Complaining to you and your sister clearly won't achieve anything. In your place, I would find it impossible not to bring up the subject of the man who married a goat.

11:07 a.m.  
Blogger Foot Eater said...

Jesus, that sounds rough, FMC. You articulate it really well, though, and I hope you get some degree of catharsis from this.

11:11 a.m.  
Blogger the anti-barney said...

Its a pity just the same.

11:45 a.m.  
Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

Hey fatmammycat. Sounds like a crappy morning anticipating it, the crappy luch and then the crappy afternoon trying to forget it.

Sorry if it sounded like I was being flippant with the pill comment on your last post. The vibrator thing might help sort her out a bit though, I'm not kidding. Maybe she's menopausal or something. Right, I'm officially talking crap now.

I hope it gets better for you.

1:30 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Good afternoon gentlemen, gorilla, lady, I have returned from the gym where I ran most of the booze out of my body. So I feel less miserable than earlier.
I don't know why I let my mother bother me, I know what she is like at this stage. Nobody annoys me as much, not even the harpy or that pink haired 'feminist'.I think it's just what you said Sam, mothers have the power to really get under your skin.
I would send my mother a vibrator, but knowing her she would just claim it electrocuted her fanny or some crap. I can see it now, her moaning to me and Etheline about third degree burns to her minge. Shudder.

1:38 p.m.  
Blogger Boliath said...

Phew yer Mammy is some piece of work! Sympathies to you on that one, I hope my child never blogs about me that way, I hope I never give him cause to!

4:02 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

Good Heavens, FMC - mothers are funny animals, aren't they? well, this one isn't funny at all. Bit like a knitting needle in the ear, really.

I have a sister who is very similar, so I can empathize. Completely batshit insane, and in delicate health, and gets a pass from all the other siblings because of that. Only myself and one brother (out of 7 children) have the backbone to tell her to "go screw" when she behaves in a selfish or inconsiderate way. Everyone else goes, "oh, poor thing, she's having a rough time."

It's brutal. BRUTAL, I tell you.

4:04 p.m.  
Blogger SheBah said...

I find the whole subject of mother difficult - but its obviously an Irish mother thing, so that's reassuring. My mother sings the song of martrydom (same song her mother sang to her) and one I will never sing!
"A mother's love's a blessing, no matter where you are, keep her while she's living, you'll miss her when she's gone. Love her as in childhood, though feeble old and grey, sure you'll never miss a mother's love til she's buried beneath the clay" She sings this while looking at me mournfully - drawing out the last word//claaaaaay! Gets my guilt nerves going every time. I feel like a real beast, but I know her unfulfilled dreams are not my fault.

4:40 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Ladies, good evening. I sometimes wonder if it is a generation thing. My friends who have children are not in the slightest bit resentful towards their children. My best friend has a little girl who is four and she absolutely glows when she talk about her.

6:24 p.m.  
Blogger KnackeredKaz said...

Phew...I know Sunday was Mother's Day, but after reading that I think I'm going to give my Mam a big hug right now! Yeah she fusses and asks loads of questions and cleans all the time, but she's a SAINT compared to yours! Deep breaths FMC..in with Jesus, out with Satan, in with Jesus, out with Satan.

7:10 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Mizz Kaz, a mantra has served me well many a time. Only mine usually go, 'Fuck fuck fuckity fuck,' under my breath.

7:45 p.m.  
Blogger Monstee said...

Me been thinking bout you and you problem FMC. Me don't know if this will help you too much, but it am an idea. You ever hear that if you nervous to get up in front of group of people you should mentally picture them all in they underwear so they look more vulnerable and silly and you am then the one in power? That idea can also be adapted to other problems and other emotions. Next time you momster am going on about it all and you feel like you am getting upset... don't try picturing her in her underwear... put her in great big nappy with huge baby bonnet and rattle. You might also think up large pacifier sitting out of reach on other side of table. Now, when she going on about "Oh why me? Poor poor me!" you got funny picture of BIG OLD LADY BABY crying all red faced and saying "Whaa whaaa-we! Poo poopy me!" Cause it really sound like that'm what she'm being... a big ol' baby that am full of shite!

Hey, just an idea. It what me here for.

9:13 a.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

erm..I'm not sure that one would work with the old rip. Did I ever mention I don't like the sound of babies either. That's liable to send me straight over the edge.
No Monstee, my blue fluffy smoochikins of love, I shall simply have to find another way to defeat Gorgon the Ghastly.

10:39 a.m.  
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