In which I talk about family

Happy Mother's Day?

I guess it's technically not Mother's Day anymore, but we didn't get back from New Braunfels until close to midnight. Most of the weekend was spent either driving or sleeping. We drove up yesterday for Andrew's birthday. My little bro-in-law is sixteen.

I like having a little brother. I was the younger sibling in my family, and my older sister and cousin did unspeakable things to me, like stuffing me in a cardboard box, taping me in, and rolling me around the house. Or tickling me until I peed my pants. Or stuffing ice cubes down the back of my footie pajamas. Now that Andrew's around, I get to treat him like the younger sibling. Dane and I like to declare Beat Up Andrew Days and then punch him. (Not hard...)

Jackie, my mom-in-law, had to work all weekend, so we didn't really get to do anything special for the holiday.

As for my mother... I don't know what I can say about her. She's kind of crazy, and not in a cool eccentric way. More like a.... paranoid annoying way. It's very hard for me on Mother's Day because I find myself torn between convincing myself to find a way to love her, and convincing myself it's okay not to call and say hi. Talking to her for any extended period of time has the effect of very mild electroshock therapy. I come out of it slightly crazier myself and with a splitting headache. And possibly my hair might stand on end and attract balloons.

In our most recent conversation, she told me about the many minor earthquakes they're experiencing in her city, and I didn't believe her until I saw it reported on CNN. She's told me on other occasions of impending natural disasters that never happened. Such phone calls usually begin with her declaring that I better have my food storage ready or else I'll starve to death from lack of granola bars.

I know she had a difficult time raising my sister and me since our father died, but she still really messed up. Every parent dreads the possibility of their child spending years in therapy blaming their upbringing. I get to be the child that actually does that. I've found myself wishing my sister could have somehow been my mom. I've gotten more real-world advice from her than I ever could have pieced together from the scattered bits of conversation with my mother.

Perhaps I'll send my mother a belated card.