I Want to Like Her

I really do. I am embarrassed to admit this is something I struggle with. What kind of person does it make me?

But so far in my life, no matter how hard I try...I can't seem to truly enjoy my own mother.

Of course I love her, she's my mom. Occasionally I feel compassion for her, but even that doesn't seem to last long enough.

Take now, for example. She's been grieving for almost a year- first for the loss of her father (with whom she had a complicated relationship), and now for her mother (whose approval she was forever seeking). She does not appear to be handling it well (not that anyone handles grief well), she becomes sullen and a bit victim-like, with elements of immaturity, muttering phrases like "Life is never going to be the same".

Well, duh, Mom.

Of course, I try to be patient because she is hurting, and everyone handles this kind of pain differently. I've been encouraging her over and over to go see a grief counselor and she simply refuses. Her responses "There's nothing they can tell me that I don't already know" and "They are just going to say it's going to take time"...strike a nerve. They remind me of the adolescent response we received from my youngest adult brother when we forced him to go to rehab.

I think some of my annoyance with her is actually resentment. Or outright jealousy.

You see, my Mom, who will turn 65 this year, has had a very easy life.

This is the worst loss she has experienced thus far. She had very simple goals in life (get married, have kids), and these goals fell into place relatively easily (she did have two miscarriages, which must have been devastating). She and my Dad worked hard, but lived pretty comfortably. No major tragedies. No affairs. No divorce. No major financial crises.

My Mom would say her life is not perfect. What would make it perfect? If each of her four children had families of their own and lived within blocks of her. If her own children would treat her as the Matriarch, as she always treated her mom. Her entire life so far has been to gain approval and love from her mom (who never lived more than a couple miles away).

And now that her mom is gone, she is lost.

And I want to be close to her, to enjoy her while I still have her in my life. I have friends who have lost their moms and would give anything to trade places with me.

But I can't seem to get past the aspects of her that just drive me crazy. Her need for complete control. Her irrational stubbornness. Her narrow view of the world. Her martyr complex.

Pop-psychologists would probably say that what I hate in her is what I hate in myself. Could be true...but actually, what I think happens is that I am uber-aware of the pieces of her that I've inherited that I don't like, and I work super hard to minimize them.

OK. I thought writing out this confession would make me feel better. It hasn't.

Back to the drawing board.

Love is in the Air

I can feel it. So close I can almost touch it.

I've had three really magical gatherings with girlfriends over the past week. We connected and shared as only women can. And we spoke a lot about love.

The pursuit of it.

The challenge of it.

The heartbreak of it.

I have this odd feeling like Love is slowly approaching me. Maybe it's in my head, but that's how it feels.

Old love has faded in my heart.

I feel young, desirable, open.

I'm meeting new people. I'm connecting more than ever.

Sparks are everywhere. Smiles. Special glances. Brief touches.

I kissed a new man the other night. I'm meeting another new man tomorrow.

I just love possibility.

An Angel Won Our Superbowl Pool

A few weeks ago, on the day of my Gram's funeral, we had a huge blowout party at her house. It was wall to wall people. It wasn't quiet and somber, it was loud and boisterous...and it was just as she would have wanted it.

During the party, my cousin T started a Superbowl pool. One of those boards with squares and numbers, like they have at every Superbowl party. We decided that we, the grandchildren, would pitch in and buy a square in Gram's name. It was a random board, meaning that when we chose a square, we did not know what numbers would end up on that square.

I found out the other day, that Gram's square won.

I laughed out loud. As corny as it sounds, I know my Gram would have loved it! She watched the Superbowl and participated in pools every year. She never said no to a good party.

I felt like it was her way of saying "hi" to us grandkids, and letting us know things are A-OK where she is...

And as an added bonus, Hospice of Central New York got a nice little donation.

Booty Call: Statute of Limitations

In what universe is it OK to call my cell phone at 1:00 in the morning on a Friday night, Mr. HotGuyIMetAtaPartySIXyearsAgo?

And the voice mail you left me sounded like you thought it was 1:00 pm. "Hi, it's K. I like your voice mail, it sounds so professional! Anyway, it's K." No last name, no content. It took me several minutes to realize who it was.

We haven't spoken in years. We spent a few hours together a long time ago, we did not have sex, and we've never seen each other since. You sent me an email a week ago asking if I would be interested in getting together sometime. I said, 'sure, give me a call'.

What did you think would happen when you called me in the middle of the night?

"Oh-absolutely! I'd love to get out of bed right now, get dressed, get in my car and come meet you at your house. (Because clearly the bars are almost closed, right?) Of course I'd just love the opportunity to have cheap, meaningless sex with a man I don't know and barely remember! Just give me 20 minutes, I'll be right there..."

You know, I've never wanted to become one of those bitter man-haters. But after decades of dealing with shit like this, it's really hard.