November 25, 2012

• opting in and opting out

  Now that I’ve titled this bad boy, I don’t know where to begin.  It’s all melodrama, I think.  So maybe it doesn’t even matter where I begin. Or end.

  In general, I’m in an opting out frame of mind right now.  I have somewhere to go in a little bit, and I’m not sure that I’m going to make myself.  I’m running out of excuses except that I just don’t feel like it.  I want to hide.  We bought a relative a funny t-shirt a couple years ago and I think I should own it myself.  It says, “I read your t-shirt, that’s enough social interaction for today.”

  I opted in to Thanksgiving with the in-laws and out of Thanksgiving with my p’s.  I opted in for spouseman’s cousin, who I really like, and her husband, who makes me laugh,  and doing a puzzle with her (and my mother-in-law) and holding her 5 month old grandson, who is freaking adorable.  (Egads.  Grandson.  I’m not sure that she’s 40 yet.  In fact, I think she is not.)  I really think she and her entourage are the only reason.  My brother-in-law was in a mood.  The bed we sleep in there is a torture device.  And that freaking bird clock drives me crazy.  My father-in-law thinks it’s hilarious.  He puts batteries in that clock just for me.  I’m serious.  So every hour on the hour some birdsong lets me know that time is ticking (slowly).  I packed an outrageous quantity of projects and activities for those two days.

  So, why on earth did I opt into their Thanksgiving and opt out of my p’s?  Because I’m desperately tired of doing double holidays, which we always do.  My mom was already irritated that we weren’t coming on Thanksgiving itself, so she didn’t care that we didn’t come at all this weekend and doesn’t seem to care if we go next Saturday either.  Or maybe that’s just my irrational feelings towards my brother who lives with them (for many and justified reasons, probably).  He’s a selfish, obnoxious prick.  There, I said it.  And my relationship with my parents is suffering for it, whether they are aware of it or not.  The last time I visited, I was there to do my mother a favor and the first hour of our visit was a full report on my brother’s job and schooling.  My brother has been in some kind of higher education for most of the past 20 years.  I actually think he’s been in nursing school since LLO was a baby.  And I don’t care.  Sorry, but I don’t.  I don’t care what his job is, because he changes jobs like most people get their hair cut.  I don’t care how far he’s driving or how hard he’s working or whatever.  Because it doesn’t appear to me that my mother cares about what’s going on with us.  She didn’t know how hard I was working.  She didn’t know how hard the beginning of middle school was for LLO.  I don’t think she knows that Spouseman has slightly migrated jobs.  She doesn’t know these things because I didn’t tell her.  But you know what?  She didn’t ask either.

  This was not what I was going to whine about.  Because the other day, Spawn says to me that she feels differently about her grandparents.  She was telling me about how my crazy uncle was giving her a hard time because my kids don’t know my mom’s side of the family.  Well, we don’t see them.  And there are thousands.  OK, hundreds.  Anyhow. She had the thought that these people aren’t really her relatives because we share no genetics.  And the reason that she feels differently about her grandparents is that she is biologically related to one set and not the other.  Holy crap.  Are you kidding me?  But then I wonder if this is really true.  It doesn’t seem to me like my parents feel about me the same way that I feel about my kids and honestly I probably don’t feel the same way about them that my kids feel about me.  But is that really because of genetics?  Or is it because of who these people are?  My in-laws have been thrusting themselves on us since the grandchildren were delivered by the stork.  They drove 3 1/2 hours one way for a day trip every week when Spawn was a baby until I couldn’t stand it any more.  My parents waited for us to visit them.  My in-laws beg us to let them visit.  My parents nag that we don’t come see them. 

  I remember when I was a kid, that’s how it was for us too.  We visited the grandparents, they did not come to us.  Spouseman’s grandmother lived next door to them.  You know she wasn’t waiting to be visited.  So, no, I don’t think it’s biology.  I think it’s who these people are.  They are who they are, faults and all.  Just like I am who I am: antisocial, unforgiving, tired, melodramatic.

  I should stay quiet.

  • 7:29 pm
  • 26 Comments