Fatima's Blog

Posts Tagged ‘mother’s day

Posted on: May 19, 2011

When my daughter began reading my blog, was she happy about the nice blogs I had written about her and her daughters? NO!

She was wild about the nasty things (yes, they WERE nasty) about her and her husband that I wrote almost a year ago about the now infamous dog-bite incident and the horrible Christmas when she never even called me. Did I say some not-so-nice things? Yes. Are they few and far between? Yes. But they will be the subject of our therapy session in 10 days. She has printed out the ones that were the worst and will show them to the therapist. What he’s supposed to do? Scold me?

Because of these blogs she has written me off, as it were. I was supposed to have two medical procedures done this week, One was absolutely necessary, one elective. She is my ride home after these procedures because they involve anesthesia. She was now refused to pick me up from the second procedure so I have to somehow make other arrangements. The doctor was in shock about it. After the first procedure this week, she had a hissy fit because the procedure took longer than normal and she had to get me medicine and something to eat. She is afraid of losing her job because she takes too mush time off (she went on vacation 2 weeks ago and is taking her daughters to the dentist and orthodontist, even though I have offered to to that for her). If she were so afraid to take time off, she would let me help her. “No,” she says.”You;ll hold it over my head.” I may have mentioned it in my blog but I never say, “Look how much I do for you.”

It’s the same thing with repaying a substantial loan I made to her and her husband. They are far behind repaying the loan and they are crying about hard times and they will get a second mortgage if they have to so I won’t hold it over their heads. They go out to eat, go on vacations, have Spurs season tickets, bought an iPad, but can’t pay me because it’s hard. I’ve offered to extend the loan for a year if they will make regular payments and pay a tiny interest on the extra year. Clint, her husband, is in charge of this, I guess, but she doesn’t want to sign anything until a year from now, 15 months after the loan is due. I tried to explain to her that is she doesn’t sign an extension, the loan is due-NOW. She watches enough judge shows to know this. She also doesn’t want to pay interest, which was not what she said when she asked for the loan through her tears. I think 2% interest for 15 months is very reasonable. It’s the principle (no pun intended) of the thing.

She’s also mad because I used her car “too long” when my car was in the shop after a hit-and-run accident. We didn’t realize it would take that long. I could have rented a car through the insurance. But she didn’t tell me she was upset. Instead, she told everyone that she had to take the car from me “by force.” Her husband gave me a ride to the shop. I could have taken a cab. It was sort of funny.

So because of the blog, I have no help with hospitals and no Mother’s Day celebration (Clint was sick) and no help with anything. I don’t feel I should have to capitulate to her whims when I need to write and get my thoughts out of my head so I won’t blow up. Luckily, I see the therapist before we go together so maybe I can tell him it may get volatile (again). This hospital thing is the first thing I’ve asked her to do in a year. I went on vacation and parked my card at the airport, boarded my dog, did my own thing. She was mad about that,too, because I visited her former second step-mother who left her father after he nearly broke her jaw. She’s now married and happy but Sabrina holds grudges for a long time. She’s like her father and my mother, the worst of each. She can be sweet but more often she is self-centered and bitchy. Like she is now.

So there is my second surprise shock–find your own way to deal with the hospital. I, on the other hand, will help her if she asks me, because that’s who I am. She’s my only child. Why shouldn’t I help her? I just care about her too much.


As I wrote in my other blog, I never know what Mother’s Day will bring. It brought precisely what I feared it would bring: nothing. There was a reason. Here’s the story.

I texted my daughter early Sunday morning “Happy Mother’s Day.” I heard nothing from anyone except my sister in a text all day. Later in the afternoon, I received a call from my daughter. Her husband was sick and one of her daughters also did not feel well (that I knew from texts from the girls the day before). They were planning to have me come over for a barbecue but since people were sick, so they would take me to brunch and give me my gift maybe next weekend. I asked if she had liked the flowers I left for her on Saturday when they were on vacation and arrived home Saturday night. “Oh, yes, nice,” was the reply.

My suspicions are that there was no barbecue planned since they were tired from traveling the day before, and that there was no gift since they had been away all week. Why she couldn’t drive the three miles over to my house to see me for Mother’s Day is beyond me. She could have left the sick people for a half hour to visit her mother. But she didn’t and I didn’t expect her to. That’s the way she is.

Perhaps we will go for brunch next week or not. Who knows? If we do, it will not be relaxing. The granddaughters will be fighting with each other and their mother, and there will be all sorts of complaining no matter where we go. Granddaughter #2 complains about everything. We never have a relaxing brunch. It is gulped down and we leave. The last brunch lastest less than an hour from the time they picked me up to the time they dropped me off at home.

So Mother’s Day was exactly as I had imagined it would be: a total wash. Just like so many other holidays. There is no fuzzy warm feelings about holidays in our home. I have no idea where these ideas come from, since my daughter was not raised that way.

For Easter, she and the girls stopped by for 5 minutes to give me an Easter basket. Luckily, all the candy was candy that I actually like. Usually it is random milk chocolate which I don’t like. But this was dark chocolate and peeps. Not bad. But a visit would have been nice rather than just dropping off the basket. My house is a mess, this is true, but it would have been nice to visit.

That’s the story of Mother’s Day and Easter. It’s better that I have no great expectations for holidays. When I do, I’m always disappointed. It’s sad.


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