Saturday, August 23, 2014

Who cares that I'm not wearing pants?

I try to appreciate the moments when mom is not being full-out nasty, even if she's still being inappropriate or not helpful. I think I've mentioned before that her gossiping makes me very uncomfortable. I didn't want to hear about the pregnant neighbor's drama with the baby's father the first time around. I don't want to hear about other people's relationships, much less mom's theories about why their lives are the way they are. I just want to scream, "that's none of your business!" But I don't.

The recurring theme this morning was mom's trying to talk to me--about these things, among others--as I was trying to do things. Which would have been fine, except for the constant "are you listening??" and the requisite annoyance when I snap the fourth time I answer that question. It culminated when I was dying my hair. Mom started on about a friend's daughter ("she used to sing terribly...") as I was mixing the henna and continued as I had to leave the room to get the gloves, etc.

Mom: Are you listening??
A.: Yes, I'm listening. I can hear you from the next room.

It reached a level of absurdity when I was washing the henna out of my hair, which I did with the garden hose (trust me, it's much more efficient than using a shower nozzle, and you don't get henna all over the shower). And I have the whole henna process down to where I do it in normal clothes without worrying about getting it on them.

So, I'm standing there, spraying water onto my head.

Dad: The water falling into the bucket is green.
A.: Right.
Mom: I never liked that guy. You should hear the way he talks to her!
A.: Why is the flow so weak??
Dad: Oh, it's adjustable. I can adjust it.
A.: Please do.

So now there's a stronger spray of water hitting my head.

Mom: Do you hear those dogs? They're really cute, but they're not the dogs I would get. I prefer full-sized dogs. We can go for a walk to look at those dogs. Do you want to see the dogs.
A.: Later, mom.
Dad: You still have some henna-mud on this side.
A.: Thanks.
Mom: I don't mind small dogs; I just don't want one for myself. Do you want to go see them.
A.: Maybe later.

***
Mom kept going on about the neighbors. Dad and I went to the store, came back. I noted that if we were going to go for a walk, we needed to go now because I had early-afternoon plans. Dad said to tell mom.

A.: Mom... why aren't you wearing any pants?
Mom: It's hot out.
A.: Shorts?
Mom: Whom am I bothering? Who cares? That's why I asked you to fix this (long) shirt.
A.: Fine. Anyway, if we want to go for a walk, we need to go now...
Mom: We'll go when I'm done.
A.: Then you and dad can go on your own.
Mom: I'M SICK OF YOUR ULTIMATUMS! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!

Twenty minutes later

Mom: I don't enjoy conversation with you. It's nothing but rudeness. Feel free not to visit again.

[Pause]

Mom: I don't find conversation with you enjoyable.

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