Earlier this week my mom posted on Facebook a very nice
thank you to my aunt and cousin for coming over and cleaning her house. Sigh.
I’m trying to not let it bother me, really I am, but it’s not working. I have
offered many times to come help her, just text me or call me and I will be
there. I did help clean out one of her flower beds earlier in the spring. That
got zero Facebook posts. I don’t know what it is with my mom, but it seems I
can never do enough or be enough for her. I’ve made a conscious effort to reach
out to her more, but she doesn’t message me or call me. Things weren’t always
like that between us, but ever since she went through the ordeal with her
breast cancer and accused me (and my siblings) of not being there for her, she
seems to look for passive-aggressive ways to put me (us) down. I’m sure, if you
ask my mom, she would tell you I’m an awful daughter who does not care about
her ailing mother. I don’t want to sit here and type out all of the things I
have done, I don’t want to sit here and keep score. Suffice it to say, the
damage done and continuously being done, to our relationship is massive. I used
to share many things with my mom. Now, I don’t. When I was going through things
with Primero it would have been nice to talk to my mom about it, but I didn’t
say a word. When I get worked up by something the kids grandmother does, it
would be nice to have an ally in my corner, but my mom doesn’t have a clue. I
keep most things to myself. I especially keep any negative things about my kids
to myself. (I do have a friend I can talk to, so it’s not like I’m keeping it
all inside, I just don’t share it with my mom).
When my mom was talking to me about being scared with this
latest cancer, she told me through tears that she wants to be around next year
to see Primero graduate from high school. What? Really? I didn’t think she
would care one way or the other if he graduated. Back when we first started the
journey into adoption, back when I was a we, my mom seemed to want to have a
part in all of it. Yet, when the finalizations of the adoptions finally came,
she had an excuse to not attend. I didn’t even invite her to the second
adoption because why? I read back on my blog about the times my mom and I went
shopping for baby items. I remember how my parents came over when the first
foster child was placed with us. But, when I got Love Bug my mom wouldn’t hold
him, she wouldn’t even try. Most of the time, if we talk about my kids, she’s
telling me how awful Chica Marie is and how no one likes her, not even my Nana.
What do I do with this? I can’t just write her off, but I do limit time with my
kids. I used to take my foster kids to the farm every Sunday to spend time with
my parents and have a meal together. I stopped doing that when she got sick and
never resumed the habit. My kids love the farm. They love going to see my
parents. But, we don’t do it that often because it seems to be more of a
liability and a positive family-building occasion.
I used to think my parents wanted to be as involved in my kids’
lives as my grandparents were for me and my siblings. I was wrong. Sure,
distance plays a part, but only a small part. My parents could spend time
with their only grandchildren, if they chose to do so, but they choose the
opposite. They have kept the kids over at their house once in almost 4 years.
We used to spend the night with my grandparents all the time. It makes me so
sad. But, I can’t do anything about it, so I just soldier on. It does make me
feel lonely and sad. And I feel bad for my kids because I have a rocky
relationship (at best) with their grandmother and my parents are simply not
around. I had such a close relationship with my grandparents. I knew, if I
couldn’t talk to my parents about something I could always go to my
grandparents. Who do my kids have? Just me and each other, I guess. I think my
sister would be willing to listen, if the kids were in a pickle and felt they
couldn’t talk to me, but she’s far away so that makes it hard for them to get
close to her. With so many of the expectations I had for my grown up life, I’m
finding this is the hardest one to let go. It’s like I keep waiting for things
to change, but I’m still here holding my breath. Time to let it go…
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