Why I can't stand my parents...

May 10, 2008

....my dad called today. At the time I was helping my six-year old

with her tights and was expecting my husband to call, and the closest

phone didn't have caller ID so I picked it up. Damn. Anyway, Dad

wanted to invite my family to a mother's day brunch. Yeah, right!

After 6 months of NC I going to sit around a table and celebrate

mom. As it turns out we'll be out of town (yay!) and I told him so.

He then said, " Well, we *common* people still celebrate mother's

day. " I said, " I'm not sure what you mean by that, dad. "

Him: " Well, I'm not sure either. " WTF? He then said he wanted to

visit with me sometime this week to discuss " this whole situation " .

I agreed, I think mostly to appease my sister that I give things one

more chance, and I think partly to reaffirm to myself that I am, in

fact, not the crazy person in my family. We agreed on a time and a

place (not my house), and then as we were about to end the

conversation, he said " and we're going to discuss facts. Not

allegations, facts. "

Argggggghhhhhhhh. So he's backhandedly accused me of being snobby

and lying. So why am I still meeting with him, you ask? Because in

some strange way I found this empowering. I can say to myself, see,

he is being a jerk! You're not messed up for feeling that way! And

it's just me and him at a coffee shop, and I'm going to sit there and

nod while he tries to explain how nada really isn't that evil

(because clearly she can't negotiate this situation herself) and how

the only way you can convince a five year old to brush her hair is to

call her names and blah blah blah blah. And I'm going to use every

syllable of that nonsense to add to my conviction that I need to keep

my kids far, far away from this reality-warping madness.

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