My mom and I have an interesting relationship. We have never been “friends”, and I considered her, for most of my childhood, to be the woman who stifled my dreams and removed my doorknob when there weren’t any more luxuries to take away and I still wouldn’t stop smoking pot and skipping school. My tormentor. My insane mother.
The thing is, over the years she has gotten better (probably in part because I no longer live with her and I only see her when I think I could handle a big blowout should one occur) about being critical and a psychotic fight starter from hell. I don’t see her entirely too often because then there is more danger of her losing her cool and biting my head off.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother. But we clash so badly sometimes that I find it hard to be in the same room with her. We don’t talk about my personal life. We rarely talk about my job. We rarely have any conversations that involve much more than a “How was your day?” or “Did you see what _____ did on TV last night?” It’s just the way we roll. And I rather like it that way. There is little danger that we will fight about how much of a skank Paris Hilton is or whether or not my day was productive.
Naturally, in considering this move to the other side of the country, one of the big obstacles was the “telling of the mother”. And since I have returned from my trip it has been stressing me out more than I can tell you. She knows next to nothing of the ZH situation. She knew nothing of the consideration of a new home. In fact, the only thing she did know is that he bought the plane ticket that sent me out there in the first place. But she doesn’t ask questions and I don’t offer anything.
So today, because I am anxious to get all of the hard stuff out of the way, I decided to send her an email that read simply:
“Hey, Mom! I just wanted to tell you that I found out today that I have three months to live. I will now pause to give you time to react.
Okay…so now that that is out of your system. I’m not dying. I am just moving to Seattle in June.”
She still thinks I am joking. Dammit. Why doesn’t Hallmark make cards for this shit?