Phone call and ramble

The iPad is still probably (or at least mostly) wasted on me, but it's revolutionized the way I talk to my parents. It has also encouraged me to keep my New Year's resolution to meditate more. Yes, I know the irony: you shouldn't need tools, lo- or hi-tech, to meditate; you only need yourself. That said, there's something about an app that records (and times) meditation sessions that just helps. But I digress.

Having an iPad means I can be more mobile in Skyping with my parents, which they love to do. It means I can indulge their preference to video chat while taking the focus off of me, by directing the camera at the cat. I can follow her around with it. But I didn't follow her to the litter box, which created a space for me to turn the camera back to me. Which, in turn, created a space for mom to comment on the zit on my forehead.

She did not comment on my hair, which is unusual for her. She commented on my hair with great concern the other day. Did I always wear it that way? Did I wear it that way to work?

I'm worried about my dad. I don't think he'll enjoy retirement. I asked him about how he was feeling about it; he said he was aware that he'd miss work, miss being useful. He'll feel that his skills, expertise, and experience are wasted. But now that his contract is definitively ending, he's disinclined to take a job farther from home.

I'm not sure why I'm not worried about my mom. I think I am, but it's gelled into acceptance, of "it is what it is." I feel so disconnected from her right now, largely because of her own ways, but I also don't resent her. When my boss told me today that I had a winning personality--and this is someone I've worked with for years, on and off--I graciously took the compliment, but I didn't feel like relishing in any "see, mom!" gloating. This is a good thing, in and of itself and in and of the source: I don't feel the need to validate myself against mom's critiques. But it's almost like the lack of all resentment and defensiveness created a vacuum that positive emotions haven't yet filled. Wait, that's not really true: there's been understanding, forgiveness, compassion: understanding that she is who she is and that the nasty things she says to me have everything to do with her and nothing to do with me; forgiveness for those things; and compassion, over her not being able to do any better.

But there's still a space--is there a part of me that misses mom as adversary? As a source of absurdity? "Misses" is the wrong word, but perhaps I expect it and I'm not sure what to do now that I've gotten to the point that I don't care.