I just got back from P and J's for Walking dead night (Which turned into Walking Dead, Grey's Anatomy, and Once upon a Time but it's totally cool because we are bad asses who can do that and still function in the morning.... Well they can function in the morning, I have the day off tomorrow, so I'm going to climb back into my cubbyhole of a blanket fort and sleep till noon.)
I had one of those days that upon reflection can best be described as... interesting. If you are male, you may want to stop reading. Just saying...
I got up at seven this morning because I had to shower since today was the (insert sarcastic) yay! Pap smear... She wanted to do it last week but mother nature still had her claim on me and despite the fact that she looked me in the eye and said "So?" I refused to let her go up there with all that going on. Just... no.
So today was the day. It was supposed to be a quick in and out, pardon my saying. But she pressed down on the tummy and serious pain radiated throughout my abdomen. The kind of pain where you don't say ouch but visible tears not only spring to your eyes but fall in streams. Yeah. That kind of pain. Which led to her going back up there to see what was going on. Yay! two speculums in the space of ten minutes. Lucky me. Suffice to say, this counts as an abnormal visit. She asked me about my mother's menstrual history which is, you know something every daughter loves to talk about. My mother started her menopause in her thirties. This is a fact I didn't know until today when I outright asked her. As a matter of fact, I was conceived not only because my mother wanted children but because pregnancy was supposed to stave it off for a few years. Long enough for her to have a couple of kids and then go into it. I didn't do my job. It hit pretty much right after I was born.
But I didn't know all that so I told the dr it hit her at 40. All I really remember was spending my childhood either freezing in the winter because my mom opened all the windows and turned on the AC in a blizzard because she was hot or suffocating because she got a cold flash in the middle of a heat wave and cracked up the heat... Lewis then asked when my mom had her hysterectomy. I said 2002 ish. which would put my mom in her 50's. Based on that and the fact that I had an abnormal in 2000 and today's exam and the fact that my periods have been increasingly late, she is sending me for an ultrasound. Her prognosis... I may not even get to make it to menopause. They may do a hysterectomy and cut whatever it is that's happening to me off at the pass.
My mom thinks that my weight loss may have triggered this sudden change in my cycle. My doctor thinks I am a ticking time bomb. Neither are being very re assuring.
Guys you may start reading again.
Somehow on the way to get the title to Auntie's car signed over, Mommy and I got onto the topic of the great fight of 2002.
My mom had just had her hysterectomy and she was in pain. I get that and I don't know about anyone else's mom but when mine is in pain, NO ONE can be happy and very few people can do right and as her only child nothing I do is right. I can't drive, I hit every pothole, I turn to fast, I'm too far over the line, I'm driving to slow, I'm driving too fast, I'm walking to fast, I'm patronizing her by walking too slow, the food's too hot, the food's too spicy, the food isn't hot enough, the food isn't tasty enough, that's too much salt, now that's too much pepper, I'm in an undeserved huff because I have to go back to the store to get what she really wants to eat... The list is endless and I do mean just that. That particular visit (I was living in California at that time) I came home and we got into a major blow up which is to say that she bitched just a little too much and I blew my top and came back at her. Big no no in my family. Just bottle it up and never say a word. I remember that fight because I actually took the train up to NY to stay at my mother in law's place and then the shuttle to the airport back to Cali from there instead of staying with my mom.
She pointed out that we didn't speak for almost a year after that one. And to my utter shock, she said that she didn't believe that our fight had even affected me once because how could a daughter go almost a year without even calling to check on her mother?
First of all I wanted to distance myself because she did call. Almost weekly. And every single call that I answered started with, "If I am allowed, can I at least speak to my grandchildren?" Seriously, why would I call to initiate a conversation with someone that called to give me a weekly guilt trip? And her friends and the family we had up there kept me informed. I did care, I just didn't feel like rehashing the argument or going on the guilt trip. And we never actually worked that one out,. we just started talking again. This past summer, we had another one of those fights and in the middle of it, she left to drive to NJ with my aunt. The morning that she left on a twelve hour car drive (A 69 year old and a 56 year old, both women on the road for what turned out to be 14 hours), she sent me an email telling me she was leaving. She didn't call, she sent an email. "We are leaving out of here around nine a.m. I will let you know when we get there." That is what the email said. She emailed me again when they finally arrived after I freaked out because they were on the road so damn long. But when I pointed that out this afternoon, what I got was, "Well, I was hurt because you blew up at me."
Raise your hand if you remember that fight. She called me an asshole and hung up on me. But she was hurt because I blew up at her. I would insert a gif of a confused eye roll, but why bother. Just use the one above.
She said that it's so hard to know what makes me mad because she has to tiptoe around certain subjects for fear of making me mad. I refer you to the aforementioned gif above. I told her that it's not tiptoeing around what makes me mad, it's that she needs to always keep in mind that I am 35 and have kept not only myself but three children alive for over 15 years now. I'm an adult. She tends to treat me like I am 16. And not a good 16, more like a 16 yr old that gets in constant trouble and needs constant guidance on how to do everything but breathe and sometimes that too. I almost said that she needed to let me run my own life but even that sounded way harsh in my own head so I didn't let that little pearl of sarcasm go forth. She didn't like that answer but at that moment, we were at the bank to sign over the title and the conversation dropped.
I am quite certain that I haven't heard the last of this. More certain than I am that the sun will rise and the Earth will continue to rotate. And it will come up at one of the worst times. I dunno when that will be but when things start going to shit, I will be expecting it to come up.
She also started in on the job and how it takes up my time. I'm not even going to bore you with that one. The conversation didn't go her way so again, it'll come up again. And it will keep coming up until she gets the answer she wants which is, I will no long work weekends so that I can sit around with her and my kids while we all play on our phones and ignore each other in the name of family togetherness. Cause you know that's always better than earning money that might one day enable me to get off section 8...
So anyway, My aunt officially signed her PT Cruiser over to me (my mom) this afternoon. we went to get it registered and it came up as needing inspection. We were on our way to get it inspected when I realized it had a flat tire. Got it changed to the donut that I'm pretty sure has never been used in the 13 years she owned the car and was going to go get the inspection when my neighbor told me that they will not inspect it with a donut. So it's sitting in my driveway on a donut. But I can drive it to work and back because I have a 10 day pass. I get paid on Friday so I will be getting the tire changed, inspected, and plates put on all before I go to work Friday night.
So life isn't bad, it's actually good. I refuse to see the fact that my mom and I had one of those conversations or the imminent possibility of a looming hysterectomy as the makings for a bad day. I got a car today. It's mine. I can go back on the road a few times a week. I. Have. A. Car.
Vroom vroom baby!!
Alls good in the hood and I've taken my night meds. (I will blog about that tomorrow) so stay frosty bloggers!
