Watch out! you might get what you're after

Cool babies
Strange but not a stranger
I’m an ordinary guy
Burning down the house
To quote Talking Heads...

I had this uncomfortable conversation with this woman I know from my twin mother club last night. I called her on Thursday to let her know I was not going to come to the club meetings anymore and had to resign my position as hospitality coordinator. The basic fact is: I don’t want to be part of a club where I don’t really click with any of the members. So, I told this lady I was resigning because I didn’t feel like I was really a part of the group and besides, no one wants to come to my house for a play date, or to go out to dinner with me, and none of the other twin mothers ever want to play any of my reindeer games. I am afraid I was rather tired at the time and rambled on a bit. Then, when I told her I was not getting any support from the club, which is what it is supposed to be there for, during this challenging time in my life as a mother of twins, and that I had, at times, felt like exploding, she took it to mean I was depressed and called my husband at work to see if he knew how I felt. Hmm…. I guess I vented with the wrong person, eh?

So, I called her the next day and asked her why she called my husband at work. She said it was because she was concerned that I was not getting any support. Well, I am not, from the club, but I am from my sister, my playgroup friends, my on-line buddies and my DH, of course. So I had to reassure her I was okay, that I was past the rough “oh gee the twins are only 3 months old and I can’t get out of the house on my own” stuff. It’s still a major challenge to Get Things Done, but my mother’s helper makes a big difference. She is so valuable, especially now; she has been great helping out with the demands of sick twins. In the end, I spent about over an hour on the phone, repeating I am okay and yes, I am getting enough sleep, but when I had spoken with her that one time, yes, I was very tired and rather glum. On Thursday one baby was full throttle sick and the other was just starting to show symptoms of the same, so it was all getting to me.

I suppose I should feel glad that there are people out there who care enough to call my mother in law (!!!!) to get my husband’s number at work and then care enough to call him and talk to him to make sure I am being sufficiently supported at home and all that. However, after thirty something years of being ignored by my parents, I couldn’t help but feel her protective, caring supportiveness was a little strange. I mean, usually when I talk to another woman about how my children are making me crazy I either get “Me too, I understand, let’s do something about it/let’s do something fun to get out and away from the kids/let’s both whine and complain” (from my sister and from mama friends) or an “I know, I know, it is so hard, I’m so glad I am over the baby thing, and now let’s talk about me” from my own mother. Telling someone “I am going crazy ” and then having that set off a series of phone calls and a fluttering of concern was pretty odd.


I have learned a valuable lesson or two from this. One – be careful to whom you vent. Some people are not used to my particular type of dramatic patter, don’t get my jokes and take me seriously. Number two, I guess I really don’t want to be totally coddled and petted after all. This is the first time I have seen what “support” can be, and eeeeggghhhh. It’s too much, too smothering and just too stickily invasive. If you want to help, just listen to me whine, say, “Poor thing,” and then we can all go out for a cup of joe, okay? Admittedly, I sometimes think I’d like a few sessions of therapy, if for nothing else but a captive audience, but after growing up with parents who think people don’t really need talking therapy, but would be better off with a “good kick in the pants” (to quote my dad), I must admit I view psycho-therapy with a bit of skepticism. If I go in thinking it’s not the thing for me, how could it possibly help, right? No, I’ll just stick with what works for me; jogging five times a week (if I can), plenty of coffee and a healthy dose of complaining, but only in select company.