One Day at a time

I see Syd took some time over the weekend to check in, and leave some comments. Thank you Syd! I'm not going to respond to each thing you said, but I will probably comment back on a couple of them anyway.

This past weekend was a good exercise in taking things "One Day at a time" and letting go of expectations. We started Friday night with a trip to the forest. My husband was going camping, and since we are a one-car family, it was a family event to bring him to the campsite. Rather than dropping him off quickly, and running back to civilization, daughter and I went for a short hike braving the mosquitoes. A beaver was spotted, and much mountain laurel, and a deer was seen on our way home. All good things.

In the morning my daughter made it clear that she did not want to see "the grandma with the dead cat on her kitchen table", and she was pretty clear about it. I had promised her some mother-daughter time, and she did not want that time transformed into mother-daughter-grandma time. I respected her wishes, much to my mother's ire. We ran into an old friend of my mom's in our travels, and I mentioned the change in plans. His response, after having not seen my mom in 30 years maybe, was "well you know her temper, I wouldn't tick her off if I was you. She'll probably get revenge...."   Gee, thanks for that. Nice to know what old friends think of her. I held my ground with my daughter though, and we journeyed to the south instead of to the north. I took my daughter strawberry picking for her first time. I wasn't fussy about finding "the best" strawberries, or "organic", or anything else. I simply cruised around until I saw a sign on the side of the road, and followed it in to the farm. Picking was hard work for her, but it was fun. We finished before the rain started, and hopefully didn't get too many more than we can use.

The next thing to come in my path was my daughter waking from a nap with a fever. Sick and angry she refused to take the Motrin I offered her. Asleep and then awake again, I finally made the calls to take her to the doctor and to let my husband know he would not be spending another night camping in the rain.

So our weekend went. Taking things one moment at a time, not sure what would happen next, but not getting attached to too many things either. We chose out battles carefully as parents need to do.We let go of doing some of the things we each wanted to do, as a couple needs to compromise. It wasn't the best weekend ever, but we survived it as a family, doing our best to respect one another.

Does this define "crazy" for you?

A lot of us have "crazy" parents, but when someone asks me what I mean by "crazy" I have a hard time answering. Is she depressed? Is she schizo? Is she bipolar? Is she "just another alcoholic"? I don't know. Now though, I have an example of "crazy" fresh in mind so I thought I'd share it--

Last night we had to go run some errands after work/school and we were driving past my mom's place. I offered to stop for a minute with my dear daughter so we could see the new cats that she just named, but we hadn't met yet. So we go in, meet the cats, and my daughter is scared as hell as usual. Fine. Then my mom is like "Oh wait! I have to show you something in the kitchen."

Well what she wanted to show us was her cremated cat, and all the stuff they gave her with it. She had a cute little "birthday box" with a bow that the cat was in, a photo of the cat, and something else that was the paw prints I guess.

UGH! This of course instantly raised lots of questions for my 4-year old. I was choking anyway on the cigarette smoke, so we left quickly. My mom was still trying to talk to me, and I just had to tell her to shut-up because dd was asking me a ton of questions about how the dead cat got so small that it could fit into that box. We got back out to the car, where my husband was waiting, and then the two of us tried explain cremation to her.

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This is the kind of stuff that drives ME crazy with my mother. All I wanted to do was meet the cats, and see if maybe my daughter would be less afraid of them since she had helped to name them. When I realized that my kid was just as scared as always, I was ready to leave and get on with the rest of our stuff.

I can't really complain about the cigarette smoke because truthfully we didn't call ahead or anything. We just impulsively stopped, which is something I never do. However, I think my mom should shown me privately what was on the kitchen table if she really needed to share that badly. She should not have drawn my daughter into it. It wasn't appropriate. And really that is the problem with my mom a lot of the time. She doesn't understand what is "appropriate" and what isn't. Not just with my daughter, but in life in general. Sometimes she does understands and does what she wants anyway, other times she just has no clue.

So I'm not really sure how this ties into Al-Anon, except that examples like this one are reasons why I have to have strong boundaries with my mother, and why I could never let her watch my child unsupervised. She will never be a babysitter, I hope to God.