Have I mentioned my mother is a therapist?

I have a unique family (don't we all) headed by a unique mother. She is charming, witty, intelligent, an excellent cook, an enviable horticulturalist, a decent tennis player and she has the ability to be SOOOO annoying you could scream. This lovely mother of mine, who is in her 60's (she admits to 50s and can pass for 'em too) is a therapist by profession. One visit home she pissed me off by going on and on about her back "going into spasm" because she picked up my 18-pounder twin, for 10 minutes last Tuesday. Gee, Mummy, I'd love to have an occasional spasm instead of a constant dull ache varied with sharp stabbing pains and blended with a touch of stiffness from constantly holding, carrying, sleeping with, nursing and bending over both twins, total weight 36 pounds, every single day, 24 hours every single day, 8 day a week.

I have these bizarre conversations with my mother, when I try and tell her how tired and frustrated and lonely I can be at home all day, and how there are times when I find it very difficult to do anything like laundry or housekeeping, or grocery shopping, or eating and bathing. She changes the subject as soon as she can, or just says hmm, and oh, poor dear, and well, find somebody to help you and I'll help pay for it. That's not really the issue at hand. I appreciate my mother's financial help, I really do, but I can't seem to get organized enough to look for someone, and I am still basically mistrustful of most people. I don't think anyone can take care of my little scrumptious squash blossoms like I can. It's all I can do to let my sister-in-law (and next door neighbor) and mother-in-law (a very nurturing type) watch them for a few hours in the evening. ( I generally call twice while I am away to check on them. I know, neurotic new mother...) But that's beside the point. I'll figure that out. From my own mother I really just want to feel she understands what I am going through, the positive as well as the negative. She could try to listen to me and try and give me a little sympathy and understanding and affection and well, I admit it, I need some attention. I know she hears me, but does she listen? I can't tell.

Have I mentioned my mother is a therapist?

She had three children; we are now 36, 35 and 33. She was alone during our infancy and childhood; my parents emigrated from England when my sister was 8 months old and I was 2 months in utero. She was new in town, (new in country), with no mother, no mother-in-law, no sister-in-law, no old friends and no job, therefore, no colleagues to come by and lend a hand; she did it all alone. Perhaps she feels that since she was alone and helpless and friendless that I can damn well tough it out the same way.

Have I mentioned she is a therapist?

I have told her my emotional needs and wants, and how sometimes I feel lonely and frustrated and isolated. But, she really doesn't seem to comprehend that my telling her I sometimes feel lonely and frustrated and isolated really means I sometimes feel lonely and frustrated and isolated. No one can accuse me of hidden messages or coyness here...

A few weeks ago she came by with about 20 baby plants for my garden. I appreciate her generosity, and I love having nice plants in my garden, but do I really need more little helpless living things to raise? Get this: she crashes into the house, all bounce and go, calling - "Hellooo! Good morning!" at 9:00 am. I had been up since 5ish and had fed the babies, nursed the babies, played with the babies, got my husband his breakfast, drank a cup of coffee, packed his lunch and been on my own with the screamers for about two hours. I said, when she burst upon the scene - "I am little tired today, I didn't really sleep last night, Arthur screams if I put him down for a second, Marek is getting another tooth and I just need you to amuse them for 20 minutes, so I can have a pee, eat a slice of bread (toast takes too long) and collect my scattered wits." Have I mentioned she’s a therapist? She replies - "Okay, but don't be too long, I want to get these plants in the ground before it gets too hot." FIVE minutes later, when I had just settled one baby with her and gone to the bathroom to pee with the other baby, she stood up, and said - "Well, I want to get these plants in the ground before it gets too hot." I kind of lost it. I grabbed the baby from her, took them both outside, put them on the grass under a tree on a blanket, gave them some plastic blocks to amuse them, ran back into the house threw on my clothes (I was still in my nightie) and got a shovel from the garage to dig a damn hole to plant the damn plants before it got too damn hot. At least I had gone to the bathroom! I took deep breath, burst into tears and started digging, all the while I am crying and yelling - "I am so tired I just wanted to sit for a few minutes and talk to a grown-up without the babies screaming and maybe eat something!! Can't you see I am not in the mood for this! Don't you see I am overwhelmed and need some help and some peace and sanity!? Don't you care about my mental well being? For a therapist and a mother you can be so blind!!"

She stands there, hands on hips, gives me a LOOK and says - "Well, we need to get these plants in the ground before it gets too hot (!!!), but if you are going to shout, I'm leaving." Implication - the hell with the plants, they can just cook in the sun, and the hell with you too, you ungrateful beast.

Have I mentioned she is a therapist?

Well, I managed to get a grip, convinced her to stay and sat with the babies and rocked them to calm all of us a bit. She put the plants in the ground (because it was getting hot, you see) and then took off. Later that day my dear husband called and said -Your mother called me today at work, actually, she left three messages. She said you are having a bad day, do you want me to come home?" I said no, the storm had passed and I had eaten half a gallon of coffee ice cream by that point, so I was feeling okay. My DH sent kisses over the phone and promised to be home a little early.

If my mother was so concerned that she called my husband at work three times, why didn't she comfort me when I was freaking out and boo-hooing all over the shop? If she was concerned enough to let my DH know I was having a rough day and was cranky and tired, why didn't she stay to make sure I has a decent lunch? A mama should know that a little food and a little nap can work wonders on the crankiest child (even if that child is 35 years old) (I tell myself coffee ice cream really is a pretty good lunch, it has calcium and vitamin D and the CAFFEINE and sugar replace the nap part of the equation, but who am I kidding...) If she is concerned enough to offer to pay for a nanny to take some pressure off me, why isn't she concerned enough to give me a hug, just to make me feel better?

Have I mentioned she is a therapist?

This is an ongoing rant... to be continued.