I definitely spoke too soon about this being a �non Jerry Springer� holiday. Of course, nothing has happened to make it rival anything you would find on Jerry Springer; the point I�m going for here is that perfection is very shallow.
For instance�
This morning I woke up to an empty house and promptly went on the treadmill to work off the extra calories I�ve been ingesting because of all of this Thanksgiving merriment. I even did my pilates video. Today was on its way to being a very good day. I went to the bathtub after finishing my second load of laundry and relaxed in the bubbles, dreading the thought of starting some of the many things that are due this week.
My mom comes home from the various stores that she visited, seemingly in a fine mood; she had even bought me some socks. She asks if I�d like to come out to Buddy�s for some pizza.
Now, I really don�t even like Buddy�s pizza, but it�s the only pizza my mother will eat. Actually, I don�t really even like pizza lately either, but I want to placate her.
The conversation is normal in the car between the three of us (my stepfather, my mother, and me) and everything is on its way to being a perfectly normal day. We sit in the restaurant and basically the usual happens.
I don�t really understand the marriage between my mother and my stepfather. He�s a perfectly nice guy and you would think that things could be normal.
Well they are, for me, that is.
For reasons I don�t think I�m meant to understand, it�s a tossup between whether or not my stepfather is going to make normal conversation or bawdy conversation. My mother, seemingly, has no sense of humor when it comes to the way that my stepfather likes to converse and turns mean. This, of course, leads to the inevitable: my mother yells at my stepfather, he gets angry, and neither of them speak. Then, my mother talks to me as if he�s not there and I�m left with the wonderful uncomfortableness of either making my mother happy or trying to smooth things over so we all have a normal conversation.
While in Buddy�s I stare out the window, stare at the various people and whatnot, trying to come up with something to say so that we�re not sitting in silence. My mother eventually finds something, but since she has this really annoying habit of speaking with something in front of or in her mouth, I can never hear her. I have told her repeatedly that she needs to speak unobstructed, especially in a loud restaurant, but my mother never can admit that she does something wrong. Instead, she tells me to �hear better�.
This pisses me off. I�m so sick of having to try and �make up� for her refusing to admit that she does something wrong. What do I do? I explain to her how sound waves work and how hard it is for them to propogate with something obstructing them.
This didn�t happen today, of course, but it has happened before. Instead, I just repeat my usual, �I can�t hear you� without mentioning that she should swallow before trying to speak again.
Well she sighs and rolls her eyes at me, while making her usual snide comment that no one pays attention to her. I politely ignore it, trying very hard to avoid some kind of argument.
I notice this pretty young woman with a very very good looking husband to our side. She has two small children who are making funny faces at me. I notice, as she picks one of them up, that she has slight red stretch marks on her hips.
This puzzles me because she�s so thin�like model thin. I ask, �Can you get stretch marks from losing weight?�
My mom responds, �They don�t go away.�
Now, to me, that�s like saying, �Is it snowing outside?� and having someone respond with �Snow forms when the air temperature is below 32 degrees�. That�s nice to have that supplemental information, but it doesn�t answer the question.
�Ok mom, but can you get stretch marks from losing weight?� I ask again, adding a hand gesture to the end of my statement. She says in a snotty voice while exaggerating my hand movement, �I�.don�t�.know�.J.�
I don�t say anything to that because I don�t want to start a fight. I try another form of conversation, adding the reason as to why I was asking the question from the beginning, but she�s snotty through the whole conversation.
Finally, our pizza arrives and my mom spills the slice all over her shirt. My stepfather and I ask, �Are you alright?� wondering, of course, if she�d burned herself. She snaps at him to leave her alone and I simply sigh and tell her not to forget the sauce on her sleeve.
The lunch continues on like this with her snapping at both of us for the most random things. Finally, in the car, I can�t take it anymore and tell her to clean up her attitude. She tells me that I�m just trying to start a fight.
I�m trying to start a fight?
I�d been restraining myself through the whole lunch, trying to make polite conversation while being snapped at, and even trying to reconcile everyone while she had the bad attitude.
I�m trying to start a fight?
It�s good that the holidays are here�.that means that everyone is in a much better mood�not.
