I'm a better parent without her

I just realized that I wasn't a really effective parent until I could honestly say that I don't care what my mother thinks and I'm not interested in pleasing her.

Tonight we got home from dinner at 7:30. The children's bedtime is 8pm, and before bed they have to eat, shower, make their lunches, clean their rooms and clean the kitchen. At 7:30 they were upstairs playing. Hadn't done any of the things above. When my parents offered to take the kids tonight they said they would have them in bed reading books at 7:30 when we got home.

So Dave and I went into our bedroom and worked on financial stuff while they all had dinner. After they ate I went out and directed things. I had Griffon in the shower and was telling Sophia to go upstairs to clean her room. She, as she always does, tried to push the envelope: "Can I just leave my dollhouse out?"

And as I always do, I told her that she has to clean up all the little pieces, but the big things can remain set up.

My mother, in the same tone of voice as Sophia, says, "But we spent all afternoooon pulling out the pieces for the dollhouse. What if she just keeps them in a baaag???"

I turned to her and said, "No, we won't be doing that. That's not part of our routine."

"But it's haaard to think that we spent aaallll afternoooon finding those things and we'll have to do it aaaallll again next week."

"Mom, we will work this out, let Sophia and I handle it."

Um. Do I have two 6-year-olds? Do I really need to try to rationally explain to her that Sophia has to pick up absolutely every little thing on the floor or we'll end up spending 4 hours on a Saturday shoveling out her room again? Does it even matter what she thinks, since I am the parent and this is my house and my child?

In the past I would have felt bad for standing up to my mother that way, and I probably would have backed down at least the second time she whined at me. But you know, if that behavior is unacceptable from Sophia, it is certainly also unacceptable from a 65-year-old.

Which brings me back to my original point. Back when I cared what my mother thought, I was an extremely inconsistent parent because there was always a conflict within me between what my mother thought was the right way to raise children, and what I think. That can't have been good for the kids. Now that I'm not concerned with pleasing her, I can be the sort of consistent parent that I think will be best for my kids.

And then...

Contrary to our usual tone here at "Go Into the Ham", today's entry is about mom being anti-crazy, which is crazy enough in itself to warrant a mention or two. So following the recent unpleasant e-mail exchange (see "I'm going to be 65!!!!!!!!!!" below), I got nothing back from her. And then came my birthday. She behaved. Following the celebration of the big 2-8, I got this e-mail from her:

"Hi!" (always with the exclamation point)

"I had a great visit tonight. I am also going through a long tough transition that started about the time your Dad decided to retire and your sister divorced. I am also trying to learn what my feelings are, what I want and how to express myself clearly, forcefully, but as diplomatically as possible (The latter is a real challenge for me.). Often, I either don't trust myself not to just blast someone when I express my feelings or it takes me three days to figure out what they are and what caused them. Often, I just end up letting them fester. I am going to make a conscious effort to journal more. Meditation has helped, but Jazzercise seems to be easier for me. I am also trying very hard to express my feelings, even if I'm not always coherent or diplomatic."

Scarily to the point and self-aware. What does this mean?

WELL THANK GOD FOR THAT!!!

There actually was one other thing that happened at the birthday dinner:

Mom went with Jill to buy ice. As she walked back into the house, she yelled out, "NOW THAT YOU HAVE A NEW LOCK ON THE DOOR, DO I GET A NEW KEY?"

I was standing about 4 feet away from her at the time, and all I could think to say was, "Mom, we don't yell at our house. Shh."

She responded, in the same tone and at the same volume, "WELL THANK GOD FOR THAT!!!"

Urm... Right. So you won't be yelling anymore then?

Happily, she didn't talk to me for the rest of the night, so whatever I did worked.

I'm going to be 65!!!!!!!!!!

So following the incidents of last weekend with my mother making inappropriate comments in front of my friends, I decided to behave like an adult and attempt to present my feelings in an orderly, dispassionate manner. I sent her the following e-mail:

"Hi Mom. In the interesting [sic] of honesty and preserving a good relationship, I need to say something. I was quite hurt that you made deprecatory comments to me in front of Eric and Mona. Specifically, telling me how I shouldn't have kids on my match.com page or on my voice mail if I want to attract a certain kind of man. That made me really uncomfortable, and I felt it was an inappropriate thing to say in front of my friend. Also, when we were talking to Mona about politics, Dad made a comment about me being touchy, and you said, 'Well, what's new?' It may have been intended as a joke, but first of all, I don't find it funny when you guys tease me about being touchy, and second of all, your tone of voice did not sound at all like you were teasing. These comments may have seemed harmless to you, but I've been thinking about them ever since and feel that I need to clear the air in order to move forward.

I hope this facilitates discussion and does not make you feel like you are on the defensive. I'm not trying to attack you; I just feel that it's best for our (or any) relationship to have hurt feelings out in the open. Please feel free to share any thoughts or feelings you have about this or anything else."

I received this response:

"Hi!" (note the very excited exclamation point!!!)

"You are touchy with me. I wasn't teasing. I will make a greater effort not to discuss dating issues with you or your friends, even when you and they bring it up. You said I should have spoken out against your engagement to Danny; to what end? My in-put is seldom welcomed and your reactions are totally unpredictable. I am learning to butt out. Pain works to keep me in line.

I don't feel you are attacking me. You are speaking your mind. You feel free to do that. I do not."

So I thought about it for a day or two. Really had no idea how to scoop this mess back out of the gutter and place it gingerly back onto the level plane of adult interactions. I came up with this:

"I'm sorry to hear that you do not feel free to speak your mind. You are. I understand that you think I'm touchy, and that's unfortunate. The fact of the matter is that I'm making a concerted effort to express my feelings more honestly and immediately. I understand that this causes some tension and unpleasantness. However, I think it's critically important that we all express our feelings honestly in order to have adult relationships.

Everything I'm saying here is in the interest of improving and maintaining a close relationship with you. I want to know when I cross the line and hurt your feelings, and I hope that you feel the same. I know I have changed, but this is something I am doing consciously, and not a matter of me feeling irritated and flying off the handle."

No response. They came for my birthday dinner tonight and it was like nothing had ever happened. The only difference was that I had the most pleasant evening I have had with my mother in approximately...forever. Apparently, pain actually does work to keep her in line. :D

And on a side note: the only notable misbehavior this evening was that, throughout my birthday dinner, whenever anyone mentioned that I will be 28 tomorrow (!), my mother yelled, "I'M GOING TO BE 65 SOON!" Let's hear it for not being capable of allowing anyone else to be the center of attention, even when that person is your daughter and it happens to be her birthday.

Your children hate you

I called my Mom this morning. A mistake, of course, but sometimes unavoidable. The children are at her house, so I asked how they are doing.

"Oh, well you know, they always tell me they want to live with me for the first few days they are here."

Wow. Was there any reason to tell me that, other than her need to subtly undermine my feelings of parenting proficiency? The subtext, of course, was that she felt compelled to tell me so I would be aware that the children are unhappy with me, so maybe I can modify my parenting to be more the way she thinks parenting should be done.

The reality is that children always love the people they are with, and in fact, they generally complain when I tell them they're going to spend time with their Grandparents, but I would never tell my Mom that.

Maybe I should.

It's my birthday. I can stab you in the eye with a cocktail fork if I want to.

So mom and dad came today to pick up the kids and take them up to Santa Rosa to hang out for three days. It just so happens that, as they were arriving, I was leaving with my friend, Mona. As we normally do, Mona and I were talking about politics and got into a discussion of our favorite democratic presidential candidates with my parents.

Until recently, I was supporting Edwards, but I now find myself leaning more towards Hillary Clinton. Mona was saying something about, "You can support Clinton if you want to, but here's why I like Edwards..." So I said (insert tone dripping with sarcasm here), "Great. Thanks for giving me permission to support my preferred candidate." My father, who does not quite understand the phenomenon of having said something one too many times so that it becomes very unfunny and rather irritating, chimed in with, "Jill's really touchy". Mind you, this is something he has used all my life to defuse what he sees as situations where I am making my opinion known a little too stridently. Detecting blood in the water, my mother went in for the kill. "What's new?! She's always been that way!!!!", she practically shouted to nobody in particular.

They're coming for my birthday on Friday, and I'm not sure there's enough alcohol in the world to allow me to live through the experience.

Disheveled

Come one, come all! See the disheveled circus freak! She wears jeans, a sweatshirt, and skull cap when it's cold outside! She layers her clothing! And finally (gasp!), she wears her hair down!!!!

Be excited, for here, in this very post, you will now be treated to the story of the previous Heavyweight Go Into the Ham Passive-Aggressive Comment with Extensive and Convoluted Subtext.

We were all in Santa Cruz for our annual family trip that we generally all acquiesce to in order to not hurt my pop's feelings. It's usually a disaster of varying intensity. Two years ago, mom got pissed that dad wasn't paying enough attention to her, decided no one wanted her there, and drove home. Drove home! Mind you, home was four hours away and this left us with two kids, myself, my boyfriend, and and my father all needing to squeeze into my Maxima with a week's worth of shit in order to get home. Very thoughtful. She ended up coming back.

The year in question-this past summer-we mostly avoided mom and dad by going downtown for coffee constantly and shopping a lot. Yay for family togetherness!

On the particular evening of infamy, it was our last night there and we all went down to the boardwalk to go on rides and have a last hurrah. I was walking ahead with my niece and it was quite crowded. My sister looked around, didn't see me right away, and asked my mother, "Where's Jill?" The loving, motherly response? "She's the disheveled one up there."

"I think she looks really cute", said my loyal sister, trying to defend me.

"Oh, I do too!! That's not what meant", said the back-pedaling mother.

My sister later enlightened me as to this comment, and it was then that my world suddenly came crashing down and I thought to myself, "Self, I don't think she's a very nice person." And thus, long before we had ever conceived of "Go Into the Ham", the seeds of genius were planted.