My mother is not speaking to me.
She bought a sewing machine back from a small store in September and set up a payment plan. She sent in the final payment and wanted me to call and ask the store to calculate the shipping.
Unfortunately, she asked me on the day I had a huge banquet to orchestrate. I was frantically rushing and overseeing caterers, florists, deliveries, band members and I had absolutely no time to make a call she could have made herself. But instead of telling her this, (and possibly angering her to the point where she would get on the next plane just to smack me upside the head) I agreed.
I called the next day but found out that she had already placed the call. I left my number with them and said that I would pay for the shipping once they receive her last payment.
In short, I was screwed.
With my mother, there is a five minute window to complete the task at hand. I have five minutes after she has asked and also, five minutes before she has asked because as the youngest daughter, I have to have psychic abilities. If she has to ask, I am already too late. Also, if I suggest that maybe her grown son who also lives in this state and is more than capable of satisfying her request could do it, she’ll say, “I asked YOU to do it.”
When I called my mother to tell her that I was paying the shipping, she cut me off and said, “Why don’t you like to obey me!”
As if I like to disobey her because that’s where a woman with full-time job, mortgage, child gets pleasure–from disobeying her mother.
And she went on about how I should have just done it, regardless that I was busy with my job and other duties. When I told her that hey, she doesn’t have to pay for shipping, she said bluntly, “Okay. Have a nice day.”
I love my mother. I do. She is a sweet woman who babysat our son, took care of me after I gave birth, raised me on her own after my father died.
But sometimes, I wonder about other mother-daughter relationships and if they’re cheery and balanced. If other mothers make their daughters try on clothes *outside* of the dressing room because, “No one’s looking!” If other mothers force half-slips on their daughters even though half-slips are just another skirt! If other mothers tell their daughters not to speak because it is Good Friday.
If I knew math, I could calculate the ratio of shitty things to good things I’ll have to do to make up for this transgression. I’m thinking it’s 1:6. She still hasn’t gotten over the fact that I didn’t send her a monstrous flamingo area rug that she ordered and since they wouldn’t ship to Saipan, guess who was stuck with the shipping charges!
I actually did send it. A year later.
I think it’ll be safe to check in with her…maybe around Thanksgiving.