June 22, 2004
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Sleepy Summertime
I've had such a sleepy day. We've been plagued by storms for the past 36 hours or so. Which means multiple episodes of lightning, thunder, and deluge when we are forced to pretty much just lie around and do not much of anything. Can't log on to the computer, can't be outside puttering around, can't really do much in the way of housework because there are too many people underfoot. It's been a slow day.
The sun peeked through the clouds about noon so my sister and I grabbed the chance and took the kids to the waterpark for a couple hours. Fabulous decision - because of the storm this morning, almost no one else was there. We had it all to ourselves.
Tucker has had a difficult day, cried a lot, generally felt persecuted by the world. So I spent a lot of my day holding him, reading to him, and letting him know that it's going to be okay. He's tired. There's been a lot to do and we've pretty much run him ragged. It caught up.
My Mom had a moment of realization this evening, that I'm going to leave here soon. She is making her list and checking it twice to make sure I don't get out of town before finishing the jobs she had for me. I don't mind so much with helping her out. I know that she needs these chores to be done and I'm here. On the other hand, sometimes things get more than a little unreasonable. Last Friday, (which was my birthday) I came home from work to find her fretting about the condition of the floor. We were having guests on Saturday for the birthday party and she wanted her house to be in the best shape possible. So before I thought it through, I'm taking on the task of vacuuming and scrubbing. When I say scrubbing, there were spots in the traffic areas of the carpeting. And I was on my hands and knees scrubbing them. I did the first room ... Mom had two more in mind for me to scrub that evening. But I was done. No more playing CinderTerri.
I started yesterday with my musings about women's lives and my hope that women's literature is broader than the complicated mother/daughter relationship which has been fodder for so many excellent books. Today, I'm back thinking about that very relationship. With my Mom, I can't hear her express a desire for something to be done, without it impacting me as a command for me to do it. There is a reason that I take it this way, my Mom expects me to understand it this way. And this has created a dynamic in which I am constantly receiveing orders, but my Mom is able to say "well, I never said that YOU had to do it." Its a comfortable place for her to be. I don't like it so well. And just in case there's any question whether she means her remarks to be mere observations and conversation or actual commands, just let me be slow about getting it done ...
Well, as of last Friday, I'm 41 years old. Wouldn't you think that at my age I'd manage to break through to the place where I can be assertive with my mother? Wouldn't you think that a mature woman could say, "I can see that you'd like to have your carpet scrubbed, but I'm not going to be able to do that this evening."
The thing is that during the three weeks I've been here, my Mom and I have enjoyed each other's company as much as I think we ever have. She has talked with me, asked me questions about my life, and my thoughts, listened to my answers. I don't know when - if ever - she has been so open to relationship with me.
In transactional analysis, we learned that we all relate as either a child, a parent, or an adult. With my mother it has never been adult to adult, it's always been parent to child. Now the dynamic is changing. When I came here, she allowed me to take charge of the kitchen in hopes that I could plan menus and prepare foods that would get her blood sugar levels under control. And I've done it. But it's been an odd experience. My Mom is acting like a child. I have to be vigilant or she "snacks" on sugary foods that disrupt her blood chemistry. We are still not relating as adult to adult, but it seems we are swapping roles so that I'm the parent and she's the child. All in the course of a short summer season.
Comments (11)
I *hate* that role reversal. Being the "baby" it's hit me very hard. Therapy is in my future.
Whew. I'm witnessing the work of an accomplished master manipulator. She knows where yer buttons are and just how hard to push. I know. ya feel a bit helpless.
You see...I'm not sure I ever felt the need to please my mom. Somewhere along the line I realized I'd never ever be good enough. So I went out of my way to piss her off.
I love the batty old fart though. And she loves me. And that, in the end, is what matters I suppose.
Oh, and Terri? You missed a spot..right...over...
there... ::points and runs::
i've blogged about this several times: you know you are truly grown up when you realize you are now in the position to take care of your parents instead of the other way around. scary
btw, i've read your last two posts but i did not have the time to comment. all i can say is: now my reading list is growing again because of you. good times.
You know, I'm in that same boat with my mother. She has made my life a living hell for 45+ years...and even now she is still at it. She IS a master at manipulation, like many others I know, and even though I can see it, list it, and even know that my reactions just make it keep going, there is no other choice to be made. What are we going to do, after all? Are we going to NOT take care of them? So I do exactly as I think you do...the best you can. It's all anyone can do.
It is sad to see the parent becoming the child. I do hope you break free before she makes it too much more difficult for you.
Apparently, I am 9 days older than you. So happy belated birthday to both of us.
Gosh, scrubbing the floors on your birthday doesn't seem like a fun way to spend the afternoon. My mother can't do that to me because I moved interstate, but I daresay if I lived nearby I'd be helping too. I see the same sort of thing with my best friend and her mother. I wish you could send a little bit of that rain over my way. Glad you had a good time at the waterpark. Give Tucker an extra hug. S.
((((((QM))))))
Transactional analysis also teaches that if you cross a transaction with your response, the emotional level goes up. For example, mother transacts to daughter parent to child, "Someone ought to scrub this floor." Daughter crosses the transaction adult to adult, "Yes, someone should. But I'm sort of busy right now, so someone else will have to do it."
Mike
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