Tweet It's been a while, I know. I haven't been feeling well. In fact, I've been feeling pretty much like I was beaten down with a dozen baseball bats. Surgery will do that to you, or so I've been told. As if being sawed in half wasn't enough my body has decided to welcome infection, to which my immune system bravely announced, "I SHALL FIGHT IT!" except it isn't doing a very good job at it, which is why, five weeks post surgery, I'm popping prescription pills like they're Skittles.
I'm not exactly warm & fuzzy when I feel like crap, so imagine how unbelievably thrilled I was when V told me just moments ago that he "has kind of a problem." Ok... "and I don't want to fight about it." Oh boy. This means only one thing:
His mother is unleashed.
Sure enough, tomorrow at 4pm she has an appointment at Sears to get family pictures taken. Now, you might be thinking that if you were wanting a picture of your entire fanmily you might ASK said members of the family IF and WHEN they are available. But not this Queen Bee. Oh no. That would never enter her mind.
It just gets under my skin so bad. First the callous approach to other human beings that she shares this planet with. She never stops to think people might have something to do other than wait to be beckoned by her. But what is even more upsetting to me is the way Big V melts into this spineless little boy who can't stand up to his mother. Needless to say we aren't going to be doing what we planned to be doing. Our plans have been bumped by the Queen Mother.
I used to hate my mother. HATE HER. I was a teenager overflowing with angst. My life sucked. Nothing was fair. My family lame. Nobody loved me. I had a big nose and wore dorky glasses - and it was all my mother's fault.
What a waste of time that was, blaming her. It was my own insecurities that I listened to. My mother was (and is) none of that. My mother taught me that the way you treat others is how they're going to treat you. That good manners is the best feature a person can have. She taught me that the only person accountable for the way my life is going is me. She taught me that I am not entitled to a thing, but rather if I wanted something I had to work at it. And that it might take awhile, so keep at it and don't give up.
She never coddled me. She never ridiculed me. She never spent time telling me I could've been this or that. Instead she took every mistake I made and every goal I reached as a reminder that I'm the only person responsible for my life.
Sometimes I think how unfair it is that I found this wonderful, amazing guy to share my life with that has the craziest mother on the planet. She's a drama queen, always a victim, and loves to pass judgment on everyone she comes across. I don't want any part of that nonsense. But maybe God put her in my life to remind me how wonderful my own family is.