My mother is off her meds.

Actually, she's not really on any meds (for readers who so happen to be, pardon the reference), she just simply should be.

Backstory: I suppose I made it pretty clear during pregnancy that I didn't want anyone to be in the delivery room with me when I was in labor. I knew I wouldn't have either the presence of mind or the energy to throw them out when they began to annoy the crap out of me. For that reason I instructed Scott not to call my family until it was too late for them to leave home and be here in time to see him crowning. I knew my mother would bring my half-brother up with them and I couldn't think of a tact way of telling her to leave him at home.

Several years ago my grandmother had some sort of health episode that had her in the hospital for a couple of days. Scott and I went to the house to shower and change our clothes and by the time we returned to her room, my mother, aunt, male cousin, and half-brother were standing around her bed, her laying there with her gown hiked up over her waist. She wasn't lucent, and all she knew was that she was hot, so she kept pulling her dress up. She wasn't wearing any underwear. All the while, my mother allowed my half-brother, I guess he was around 11 at the time, to stand there staring like an idiot making to effort to to calm my grandmother or cover her legs with a blanket. I've never forgiven her for that and had to tell my grandmother when I was pregnant that THAT was why I didn't want her bringing him. She is completely lacking in the ability to put herself in someone else's position. I do hope that someday if she's in the condition my grandmother was that my sister and I will be kind.

When Scott repeatedly called my grandma's number to tell her I was in labor, my mother heard it ringing and picked it up (oops). I guess she took offense at whatever explanation Scott gave her for asking that the boy be left home, because she has yet to come visit her grandson. She kept remarking that "That's her broooottther," as if that little ruffian has any real pull with me. My grandma came up the day after we were discharged, but my mother chose not to take the day off because she had to "work." I've known her boss since I was 10. She would have given her the day off.

We spent the first week or so walking around like zombies deprived of food or sleep. It was one of the most miserable periods of my life. I didn't have anyone come up and help and support me like most new moms do, and I blame my mother for that. Thank you for alienating folks, mom.

End backstory

My mother isn't a team player. If she isn't the group leader, she'll choose not to participate at all. She doesn't get why I didn't need a bunch of people standing around my bed coaching me and telling me that I don't really need that epidural. I even kicked the freakin' volunteer doulas out the room. My crotch, my rules - 'kay?

To sum up my angst at this point, my mom went up to New York for Christmas and took my grandma up with her. When I spoke to her on Christmas day she asked when I was going to take the baby to Virginia to see them. I think I responded something along the lines of "No time soon, but maybe you can come see him for New Year's weekend." She hemmed and hawed and said something about New Year's in New York or having to work or some crap like that.

Let's talk priorities here. You would choose to stay on vacation a day longer just to spend time with your ex-husband rather than making a three hour detour on the way home to meet your grandson? Tsk tsk. My mother was so paranoid that my mother-in-law would edge her way in as the dominant grandparent, but it seems that my mother is sabotaging herself in that regard.

I don't want to think about this anymore. I'm done. It's off my chest now.

Posted by Tiffany at December 30, 2006 12:02 PM | TrackBack