Skipping past Writober and Nanoblomo . . ? Shit, I dunno. I'm as bored as you are.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Wednesdays with Mommy
I’ve settled into a semi-comfortable routine with my mother. As I’m in the business of sorting her pills and checking on her, I stop by twice a week—once on weekends to help her with groceries (and pills) and once during the week to help her with pills (and pick up lunch for her). Most of the time, the weekday visit happens on Wednesday (as she has a standing hair appointment near her house and I drop her off on my way back to work).
Besides these times I’m physically near my mother, she often calls (or IMs) me at work to “check in.” And it’s during these visits and phone calls that I find out more increasingly disturbing information. Since her second (third?) trip to Behavioral Health, she’s been getting way too honest, like when she suddenly dropped a bomb on me in the form of a family secret . . . one that had never even been hinted at.* And here I’d thought I knew everything. Now, in the past week, she’s hit me with a couple others:
-- “Now I want you to know that I’ve been using you and Mia as an excuse from time to time. Tonight, [Mr. K] wants to come over and I don’t want him to, so I’m going to tell him that you might be stopping by with Mia after work. I just want to be friends with him, but he’s been really touchy/feely lately, and I don’t like that.”**
-- “If you ever come across any naked pictures of your father and I, please destroy them.” I was stunned. “You’re not really telling me that you guys took pictures of yourselves having sex.” “Yes, with a Polaroid. You can’t see my face in most of them, but that’s me.”
Um . . . footnotes (if you dare):