Mother blues

A whole summer has passed since I wrote. Internet access, bla, bla, bla. Then knowing it’s been so long since I wrote creates another block: I have so much to catch up on, where do I start, how do I intro into my post-3-month-absence blog…

Done.


My mother still isn’t talking to me. What a tragedy. I fluctuate between relief (she can be a real pain in the ass!), sadness (is this to be the end of our relationship? Will my children not have their maternal grandmother/godmother), rage (how dare SHE of all people, criticize MY mothering, to the point of not wanting to have anything to do with me!?!?!), indignance (how can she be so blind to the fact that I am a really good daughter, better even than she deserves), and pity (poor hurting soul to resort to such drastic measures for so little).

And I am just so tired. I don’t want to have to deal with this emotional tantrum, this cruel silent treatment. I am 33 years old. Mother of two pre-school-aged boys. Happily married. Professionally successful. And my mother is punishing me because apparently I take her for granted, “abuse” her, don’t consider her feelings enough. WHAT MORE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN I GET HOME TIRED FROM WORK, DON’T SLEEP AT NIGHT, AND HAVE A HOUSE TO CARRY FORWARD?!?! She is a bottomless void of affection and love and no matter what I do, she will never be satisfied.