Yet again I have found myself in a bit of a sticky wicket. This thanksgiving my little family (Son, Husband, Roommate and myself) have decided to forgo the family scenarios, save some sanity, and go out to eat for Thanksgiving. Buca de Beppos is doing a nice family Italian style Turkey and fixins’; sounded mighty fine to us. Let someone else worry about the cooking, baking and most importantly the cleaning up after wards. Why cook for four of us? Our family has a hard time being in the same room long enough without it being a holiday, add the added stress into the ingredient mixture, well we have all out
I loathe the holiday seasons for the mere simple fact I have never had a family enough to enjoy it; let alone learn the proper way to go about celebrating it. It’s always my mother, she can’t hold her liquor. Lately, holiday or not, she’s been pretty friendly with the bar and filling up her inner tank. She’s not nice, turns into a vile person when she’s drinking. She is abusive verbally, mentally and physically. She has no clue or proper recollection of the things she says or does when intoxicated. Lately her drinking is out of control, again. I am relieved (as hard as it is to say) that I am relieved that it is not me who is the focal point of her abuse. I am deeply concerned and depressed because it is my sister who is readily available to be the target. I am so angry inside that my mother, almost 60 years old, still sees both of us as kids she can control or demean. We are woman, we have our own families…. time to start treating us with the same respects. So, moving on into the fist and hard place I have found myself in. My mother has NEVER been like this with my son. I have no clue why, but she treats him in the manner I begged, pleaded and desired for her to treat me in. She loves our kid, and doesn’t want him to see her in the way she presents herself to my siblings and I.
So, with that said, we have always opted to have my son be apart of the decision making process. He chose his own Church, as he goes to a Christian one, my husband and I do not; etc. We were invited to my mother’s house for Thanksgiving, and we were invited to my Aunt’s. Because of our car situation, and gas scenario, we aren’t going to make it to my Aunt’s. We were contemplating going to my mom’s until I found out how intoxicated she’s gotten, twice, in the last couple weeks. I am an adult, I have a family to think of, it is my right not to have my son be privy to her alcoholism. My son has had his heart set on going to grammas. My sister has text me numerous times asking if he could. Everything in me doesn’t want to let him, but he’s 14 and mature enough to talk candidly with me about it. He said to me last night, “Don’t worry mom, she won’t try that stuff in front of me. She doesn’t like to show me that side of her.”… Pretty sad when my 14 year old has a better grasp of life than my 58 yr old mother.
I do love my mother, trust me in this. But I gave up on ever trying to get in return the nurturing and love I need as well. But I gave up on ever trying to get in return the nurturing and love I need as well. Here are the issues I have with my son going to her house for Thanksgiving.
A. The Alcohol – I cannot stand her drinking; never have and never will. I do not even want to risk my son seeing her mean, vile and angry when she’s drunk. Everybody knows holidays are like a free for all with addictions. My family gives me a hard time, telling me I need to let the past go and just ignore her drinking. Simply put, I refuse to. I own that. I have that right. I will be damned if I allow my son to be effected as I was growing up. I don’t care how much my family either enables or hides the reality. I don’t care how much they tend to call me “drama queen”… I have the right to say.. “NO.” However, we are teaching our son responsibility, and he has asked numerous times to go.
B. The Cigarettes – I bloody cannot stand cigarettes. My mother swears up and down she only smokes outside, I know different. I can’t stand when our son comes home from her house smelling like a bar or ashtray. We make him get into the shower pronto, putting his clothes in the washer. ICK. Not only that but it’s SO SEVERELY unhealthy. I can’t even even compromise my lungs by being around it with my sarcoid. I do not want to risk going back four months and getting all sick again.
So, here I am frustrated as hell at the family situation, and the fact my son wants to be apart of that. I am hurt because he doesn’t want to go with us. Overall I am worried about what “may” come.