One of those phone calls, part 3.
The doodley deep of our house phone is a frightful sound at the very best of times, but when you're up to your crossed eyes in work and it breaks your concentration by going off not once but twice in quick succession is is even more annoying.
Observe, from the fat cat home this very morning. A be-dressing-gowned, fleeced up Fatcat answers the annoyance that is the house phone.
'Hello?"
'Cat?"
It is my eldest sister. She sounds bossy and cross. My hackles rise.
'Yes?'
'You have got to ring our mother and sort out whatever the hell is going on between you.'
'Oh for Jesus sake. This is going to have to wait.'
'She's driving me up the walls.'
'I'm working here.'
'She was on the phone for almost an hour last night, I couldn't get her off it. Did you really call her a vicious bitch?'
'I didn't call her a vicious bitch, I said she could be a vicious bitch when she wanted.
'Well, she says you called her a vicious bitch.'
'Well, she can be a vicious bitch.'
'She was in bloody hysterics last night.'
'She puts that shit on, you know that.'
'Up to ninety she was, going on about-'
'Lemmie guess, she was heaving heart palpitations? Her blood pressure was sky rocketing? An astroid fell on her?'
'She was very upset and angry.'
'Pity about her.'
'I mean it, sort it out. You and her can't keep crossing swords like this.'
I look to the East, where Puddy is busy sitting like and old man and making disgusting 'zizzz zizzz' sounds. I wonder why my sister does not hear me when I use the word 'working'. I wonder how much of a show my mother put on for her last night. Certainly she tried to stage one for Etheline over the weekend and that failed miserably, so it is crystal clear to me she was aiming for the another 'mammy' to play the burning and much wronged saintly Matriarch. I tell my eldest sister this, but she doesn't seem to hear that either.
'Honest to god cat, you and her, ever since you were old enough to walk you've been at each other's throats. I have to tell you I'm really really tired of it.'
'Don't blame me, I wasn't the one who called you up.'
'She says you were incredibly rude to her.'
'I may have been, she deserved it. She was rude to me too. Did she tell you that?'
(and now I can hear the childishness in my voice and as well as making me mad is it making me sick.)
'What is going on with you two? Why the hell can't you just try to get along?'
Ah the million dollar question. I ponder it. Well actually I don't ponder it at all because there is nothing going on between us, absolutely nothing. I don't like her, that's it. I have never liked her, even as a child. I don't like her. There, I've said it out loud, well I've typed it. Actually I did say it out loud, I said it to the paramour a few weeks ago after I flung our phone to the bottom of the garden.
'I just don't fucking like her!'
And exhale.
I don't like her, she is not a very nice woman.
And exhale once more.
I don't like her. I prefer it when I don't have to talk with her.
'I don't like her.' I tell my eldest sister.
'Well too bad.' My sister retorts, 'she's your mother and you're stuck with her.'
I finally get off the phone. And I seethe and I rage silently. Then I look up poisons and my day improves.
Observe, from the fat cat home this very morning. A be-dressing-gowned, fleeced up Fatcat answers the annoyance that is the house phone.
'Hello?"
'Cat?"
It is my eldest sister. She sounds bossy and cross. My hackles rise.
'Yes?'
'You have got to ring our mother and sort out whatever the hell is going on between you.'
'Oh for Jesus sake. This is going to have to wait.'
'She's driving me up the walls.'
'I'm working here.'
'She was on the phone for almost an hour last night, I couldn't get her off it. Did you really call her a vicious bitch?'
'I didn't call her a vicious bitch, I said she could be a vicious bitch when she wanted.
'Well, she says you called her a vicious bitch.'
'Well, she can be a vicious bitch.'
'She was in bloody hysterics last night.'
'She puts that shit on, you know that.'
'Up to ninety she was, going on about-'
'Lemmie guess, she was heaving heart palpitations? Her blood pressure was sky rocketing? An astroid fell on her?'
'She was very upset and angry.'
'Pity about her.'
'I mean it, sort it out. You and her can't keep crossing swords like this.'
I look to the East, where Puddy is busy sitting like and old man and making disgusting 'zizzz zizzz' sounds. I wonder why my sister does not hear me when I use the word 'working'. I wonder how much of a show my mother put on for her last night. Certainly she tried to stage one for Etheline over the weekend and that failed miserably, so it is crystal clear to me she was aiming for the another 'mammy' to play the burning and much wronged saintly Matriarch. I tell my eldest sister this, but she doesn't seem to hear that either.
'Honest to god cat, you and her, ever since you were old enough to walk you've been at each other's throats. I have to tell you I'm really really tired of it.'
'Don't blame me, I wasn't the one who called you up.'
'She says you were incredibly rude to her.'
'I may have been, she deserved it. She was rude to me too. Did she tell you that?'
(and now I can hear the childishness in my voice and as well as making me mad is it making me sick.)
'What is going on with you two? Why the hell can't you just try to get along?'
Ah the million dollar question. I ponder it. Well actually I don't ponder it at all because there is nothing going on between us, absolutely nothing. I don't like her, that's it. I have never liked her, even as a child. I don't like her. There, I've said it out loud, well I've typed it. Actually I did say it out loud, I said it to the paramour a few weeks ago after I flung our phone to the bottom of the garden.
'I just don't fucking like her!'
And exhale.
I don't like her, she is not a very nice woman.
And exhale once more.
I don't like her. I prefer it when I don't have to talk with her.
'I don't like her.' I tell my eldest sister.
'Well too bad.' My sister retorts, 'she's your mother and you're stuck with her.'
I finally get off the phone. And I seethe and I rage silently. Then I look up poisons and my day improves.
Labels: I have had enough.
posted by fatmammycat at 9:42 a.m.
68 Comments:
Nobody can play the martyr as well as an Irish mother. They make you feel furious, they blackmail you with their emotional self pity and then you feel completely guilty. Their unhappiness and lack of fulfillment is always your fault. It's a lose-lose situation.
You have never been more correct that you are right this very second.
You forgot the reverse psychology Shebah. A key weapon in the armoury of the Irish Mammy.
All mothers are martyr's, they play the dying card, the you ruined my career/life bollocks, they even play siblings off each other, they are manipulative bullies that seem to get off on tormenting their children and sending them on various guilt trips. But that is entirely their prerogative, it’s not abuse, they reared us didn’t they? Washed, fed and put up with us. If I where to call my mother a vicious bitch, well I’d probably be dead now, if my mother didn’t get their first my father would murder me. And I am 25. It is a pity you don’t like her clearly she loves you, but hey each to their own.
Sometimes your age really shows. I never mentioned a word about love, I said I don't like her. They are completely different statements. If we were not related by blood she is the sort of person I would NEVER associate with.
I know where you're coming from but I don't see how yer siblings can put up with her while you can't. So what's the beef, really? Why do you hate her so?
I don't know Conan, we've never gotten along. Gamma used to say I'd cry as a baby if she came near me, and she in turn resented that. So who can say.
"Sometimes your age really shows"
Are you being mean here? Most people wouldn't have chosen any of their family but what you gonna do ye know. I just meant that they’re all a bit mental but what is fighting constantly going to achieve? it just makes things awkward for everybody especially the rest of the family. Perhaps I am showing my age but it seems to be if I had a beef with anyone I’d address it in as polite a manner as possible. My apologies for the obvious offence.
Life isn't alway that simple Nonny. Sometimes there is only so much politeness a person can generate.
I have no words of wisdom on this. I suppose you've tried just not talking to her?
Apart from you are there others she winds up? What character flaws does she display?
I'm doing my level best to remain not talking to her. Etheline's already told her she's not getting involved and my brother the same. She won't have liked that, so she's on to the eldest to but only as long as we're all clear that it is 'my fault'.
1-revisionism
2-martyrdom
3-maliciousness
4-takes an OVERWHELMING delight in the misfortunes of others.
5-snobbery.
There are more, but I'd be here all day and I've a shit load of work. The absolute truth of the matter is we can be very alike, stubborn to the point of lunacy and quick to take offense. Neither of us will back down so it always comes to stalemates. Both of us are content not talking to each other, she's only ringing the elder to make sure her views are the views to be taken notice of. We've gone YEARS not talking to each other before and neither of us batted and eye-lid over it. Years I tell you.
Oh dear, I can sympathise! I live in USA, mid-west, (ex-pat), brother lives in Southern Ireland, mother lived in NY, and the brother would call me up and say, "You have to fix her, she said she's tried suicide", so I asked him if going 3000 miles, either one of us, was going to fix anything?!?!? My mother plays the Martyred Irish Mother (MIM) to perfection, this despite the fact that she was a VERY absent mother!
MIM! I like it. It really is a gift they have, my mother suffers from any number of mysterious and untreatable ailments. And yet she is still alive and robustly healthy. Imagine.
ah the parent dilemma. i feel bad for my mother mostly due to her own self-imposed problems, but we've always gotten along. now my father and i? we rip each other to shreds even though i left home at 16 and have never lived closer than a 300 mile radius. we've tried to work it out (even therapy - *shudder*) but both conceded that neither one of us really likes the other, so we stick to emailing about once every few months.
i don't buy into that whole just because they're your parents you should make it work nonsense. once you're no longer dependent on them for survival, it all has to be give and take - pity some parents never realize that.
It is a pity you don’t like her clearly she loves you, but hey each to their own.
heh
I know, I had to laugh.
Daisy, I believe you totally nailed it big time. I ADORED my father and found him really easy to get along with. But her? never. And you're quite right, we're not children any more. There's really no need to keep pretending.
you are pretty mean around here I now know why major does it but Miss Cat. Tut tut.
You're being overly sensitive. We're not laughing at you, just what you wrote. If you knew my mother you'd laugh too.
You have to protect your own mental health here. You didn't blow this up by going to your sisters and such.
Let the drama stay with mama.
You don't want to feed her with any material by geting emotional or letting her see you worked up about it. Remain cold and aloof until she comes round.
My sympathies, FMC.
I won't give her the satisfaction. You can be sure of that.
Well, you know my thoughts on the subject of difficult mothers.
Your comment box isn't big enough for me to attempt even the subject of How To Get Through Breakfast Without A Murder.
I know honey, how are you and the wee one? Feeling any better?
She's peachy - bounced back with the resilience of the wee. I'm still a bit wabbit but am taking a gentle morning to myself to get back to normal.
Thanks for asking, hun.
3 things:
- That was fucking funny, dunno if it was meant to be or not, but it was, so, er... congratulations, at worst you have an inventively humourous way of moaning about mammy.
- You're 100% right when you say you're adults now and you don't have to pretend. I don't converse with 3/7ths of my siblings due to the fact they are minging cunts that I would never choose to be associated with in any way if it weren't for my old man's drunken urges.
- On the other had, she is yer only mammy...
Glad to hear it Sam, hopefully you'll be a fuzzy fruit soon too.
XBFNR- I honestly think if I did a swift poll here there would be a lot of folk who could air a lot of grievances about family members. Certainly I don't think am unique in this regard.
I can feel a sympathetic blood simmering coming on, due to familiarity with many of the things you mention!
On "she clearly loves you". Speaking from my personal experience, NOTHING could be less clear! It all gets portrayed as "love" (my favourite "it's only because I care that I say this ..." - followed by blunt, nasty, interfering, criticising comments) - but it is all really about drama and attention and loving herself more than anyone else. Y'know, sometimes love is learning to shut the f*ck up, if you are needlessly going to hurt someone you allegedly love. I believe that it is just a roar for the attention that she (mine) feels is her right and due, and can't understand why she isn't getting. Like a child having a tantrum and howling as loudly as possible, i.e. it's all "REACT TO MEEEEEE" (not to mention "you HAVE to, because I'm your Mother). I think she knows that we just don't like her - and this is a way of making it be about something. RANT.
On other siblings "getting on" with The Mother ... my sibling has perfected the ability to not listen, make lots of of Mmm, Yeah, Is That Right noises - and not get involved. I however don't seem to be able to ignore her to that extent. I listen, and depending on whether I am deemed to be inattentive or not of late, get every bloody button pushed ... and I react. Which of course is what is wanted. But I can't seem to stop. Anyway, just wanted to point out that "getting on" is sometimes just a better ability to let her rabbit on and ignore pretty much everything she says. Just 'cos one sibling can do this does not mean that the "not getting on" is about you not getting on with her.
TI need some cheese and some wine now.
I feel your pain (every month or so).
I love stories about your ma. She's absolutely my favourite cartoon villain.
Even better than Skeletor.
You know what it could be, "Middle Child Syndrome". Provided you are one.
Doubt it, the middle child syndrome thingy. My brother is the middle child and he and my mother ADORE each other, yech! Also, FMC, gotta say, my MIM has had so many different forms of cancer that she must be written up in several medical journals. I keep looking, but haven't found her yet!
"middle child syndrome"
What the fuck is that? And how is it in any way relevant to the fact that FMC's mother is obviously a vicious old harpy?
Well Mr Major allow me enlighten you “Middle Child Syndrome” as the name suggest affects the middle child or children. In a little nut shell for you it suggest that the middle child would feel to a degree left out, they feel they play no specific role in the family dynamic. As a consequence of their unease they may become argumentative, seek attention from parents (good or bad) etc. you get the picture. An indication would I suppose be a break down in the relationship with a parent/parents/siblings or what a parent may describe as a ‘difficult child’. Off course there are many other factors to be taken into account but worth considering. Can you not see similarities? It is arguable psychosomatic or cognitive behaviour. The ideals of “Middle Child Syndrome” are something of a bone of contention for many.
The best interpretation I can find on the net is http://wvwv.essortment.com/whatismiddlec_rsoe.htm
Oh and FMC I’m not implying you have that just a thought.
Middle Child Syndrome is something made up by psychiatrists to ensure weak-minded idiots have something to call their 'condition'.
It is, frankly, a load of old horse cunt.
Oh God FMC I fear Nonny is your mother masquerading as a v. immature 25 year old! But seriously, don't allow your mother's nastiness to gain permanent head space.
My sentiments exactly I prefer to denote supposed victims of Middle Child Syndrome as spoiled brats but that kind of thinking could get a girl the sack or at the very least a most severe beating. It is not a condition as such so no need for a psychiatrist, it is not like an illness I don’t think it is more like a predicament or something I don’t know I can’t think of the word. A lot of psychologist’s believe it a fallacy. It is an interesting area to explore ye know, if you where wondering what the root of a problem is.
As for the immature business, where is all this animosity stemming from??. Besides a person capable of defusing an argument without reaching a stalemate or resulting in bloodshed is not somebody I would denote as immature.
Nonny, please stop with the cod psychology. It's that kind that kind of twaddle that gives real psychologists a bad name!
"cod psychology"
Heh he you to eh, a "middle child", Born to Rebel. Thats nice.
I"m not sure I believe in psychology all that much I must say. I suspect it's a bit of a money making racket, although when I did say that to a gal once she was mightly offended having spent a considerable of time and money trying to get to the bottom of her issues. But as far as I know she has still never worked out any of her 'issues' which didn't surprise me as they weren't really any different that the issues most folk have on a daily basis.
I guess I have something of a vested interest in Psychology, not because I avail of such services mind. The thing is a lot of people (including me) regardless of their industry have or are working toward a BA of sorts in Psychology. It compliments or assists your working life. Kind of like first mover advantage you can anticipate people next move, motivate them etc. It really works. With regard to people availing of counselling, well that is entirely down to individual, everybody is different some people find it useful some don’t. But psychology enables you to understand why a person may do something or act a certain way ye know.
Just living long enough enables a person to figure out the same thing.
No it doesn’t that is not my opinion that is a fact. Just look at criminal psychologist's they solve murders everyday and they rely entirely on acquired knowledge.
Heh he your are an eternal pessimist.
See, you've done a course and you haven't managed to work out that I'm a pretty optimistic person.
haha
Nonny, you have about as much psychological insight as a retarded Stevie Wonder.
FMC,I think anyone who trains their ass off for a marathon while writing motivational posts about it and then completes said marathon can only be described as an inspirational kick ass optimist!
Thank you cubalibre, and may I just say you are a very fine drink indeed.
Miss Cat as a regular reader of your blog I find that damn hard to believe.
And Mister “I’m just your average Joe giving my take on things from the ordinary man’s perspective, I even curse and all, for real peps” Major (I don’t fucking to think so, it seems there is more to your anonymity than meets the eye) what you said doesn’t make sense.
Can't help you there Nonny, you are free to think what you like.
And Mister “I’m just your average Joe giving my take on things from the ordinary man’s perspective, I even curse and all, for real peps” Major (I don’t fucking to think so, it seems there is more to your anonymity than meets the eye) what you said doesn’t make sense.
Coming from the undisputed Queen of retardobabble I'll take the last part of that as a compliment.
"undisputed Queen of retardobabble"
"When Twenty gets an early morning wake-up call from Detective Larry O`Rourke it seems like any other day. But when he discovers that his friend, record shop owner Tom O`Farrell, has been murdered and that his dying act was scrawl the number `60` in blood on his chest and dial Twenty`s number in to his phone – he begins to think something might be out of the ordinary.
Meanwhile, time is running out for the people of Dublin. A plan has been hatched that is more sinister than seeing your granny tongue-kiss with an 18 year old and it all seems to centre around `Folkapalooza` a massive free concert due to take place in the Phoenix Park.
Soon Twenty and his pals from Ron`s bar find themselves plummeted into the crazy world of concert promotions, assassins, iPod based defence systems, mad taxi drivers, office espionage and devious minds. A combination that will test their friendships, and their ability to cope with hangovers, to the limit."
http://www.hodderheadline.co.uk/
Yeah sure sure Twenty boy.
Nonny, just what exactly is that about? You asked earlier on why anyone would deem you as immature. Well there's your answer. You've turned a light hearted slagging on a blog, about an unrelated issue into a personal attack on a person's work.
Uncalled for.
No I did not he call people cunts/retards/cretins/idiots and far far worse and everybody jumps to his defense, he makes horrendous statements about people and everybody laughs. He is no better or worse than you or me or anybody else for that matter. He just said what I am the "undisputed Queen of retardobabble" I just returned the favor. I like major and he is really funny but somethimes he is just an utter wanker with no good reason, that is uncalled for.
Right, so just call him a wanker, if that's how you feel, leave the man's work out if it.
But it is ok for him to mock mine. I genuinely give up.
Yes Nonny, strange but true, it is possible to get to the point and call someone a wanker without writing nonsensical posts!
Explain to me how I mocked your work, Nonny.
Actually, don't worry about it. Game over. Case closed etc.
I've been out (a lot) and surely haven't paid enough attention to each post ... but sometimes psycho-analysis stuff is SO common sense! - Just that "common" sense is actually fairly uncommon!! Life and people are all way simpler, methinks.
A load of auld Codology........
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