One Christmas Eve

When I was about 30 years old and DH and I had been married for over 5 years, we bought our first home a month before Christmas.  We didn’t have children yet, and like many young couples we felt obligated to see both sets of parents during our few days off over  Christmas holiday.  My NM and step-father (SF) at the time lived about 3.5 hours away.  That year we’d planned to drive to see my folks after work on 12/23, go back home the 26^th and then drive in the opposite direction on the 27^th for a couple days.  We had planned an “After the Holidays” party at our house on 12/30 to meet new neighbors and invite old friends.  For some reason, I can’t remember why, my NM wanted to be there—she didn’t visit often.

My DH used to always say with humor that a visit to or from my NM had a 24-hour time limit.  After that, things always went downhill.  On this visit there was a big situation just after the 24-hour mark.

Their home was on a mountain with not much to do except hang out or cook and eat.  My NM loves to have a big greeting and show everything in the house and show all the cooking she had done.  She doesn’t get it that how you treat and respect people makes a family feel warm, not the gourmet food, or the décor.  You can’t have a normal conversation.  Unless you talk about a recipe or a TV show—those trivial topics are fine.  DH and I sat together a lot with his arm around me.  I remember my mom saying, “I haven’t seen you in a while—why don’t you fix up a little and make your hair all gorgeous like you can do.”  I had to remind her I was on a mountain, in a house with the 4 of us and didn't think I needed to be dolled up.  And I don’t think my SF liked seeing me cuddling with DH (the SF was a pervert--more on him later).

The big situation happened on Christmas Eve when my NM told us that she was bringing her dog to our house with her when she would stay with us for a few days for our party—but my SF would be staying at home.  Her dog was a real nervous Nellie, and not trained (not even house-trained) that pees when it meets people, jumps on everyone, and barks like crazy.  We told her it wasn’t a good idea for this visit as there’d be music, people coming in and out, and us showing our new home to friends and the dog would have to be crated and wouldn’t do well with that. (BTW she made a point of not training her dog saying that “she was done with any rules”, i.e. if the dog jumped on my lap when I was eating she’d say “Your problem is that you are not scooted into the table far enough.”).

Well.  She went ballistic.  Cried like a three-year old.  Told me how she paid for my schools, my wedding, did everything for me, and look what she gets in return.  “A slap in the face to her.”  SF chimed in too with the same comments (he was always mad at me and evil and followed her suit.  He was uneducated and originally from another country—a pattern so that my NM feels super smart and in charge).  I don’t remember what I said, but I do recall that since DH was there he was vocal and rational and stuck to the point such as, “This is our new house, and a house-warming party and this is about a dog."  Well, she retired to her bedroom for the night.

So, DH and I retired to our room too and then we left at dawn.  On the drive back home I cried a little and DH said, “Sorry you have to go through this.”  And I said, “You know what?  It sort of feels good.  It feels good knowing I won’t talk to her.  I’m kind of glad that this happened. I feel some relief.”

And then the next day we schlepped for hours and hours to another state to spend a few days with DH’s family (normal, nice people, but we were worn out and went back to work exhausted).  We made a vow to not do this traveling the next year--we needed a peaceful Christmas.  The next year we went away to a couple of bed and b’fast places and made some wonderful memories, and 17 years later we still talk about those memories.

After that fiasco I think we went for maybe 5 or 6 weeks without talking.  My NM sent me a letter about how she had always done everything for me, how hurt she was, etc.  I saw her again over Mother’s Day weekend. Time went on and it was never addressed, regular phone calls ensued and she occasionally visited when there was a conference in town, or on her way passing through for a day.  There used to be strong bond and I held on.  When I was 4 years old and my brother (BPB) was 6, my parents were divorced and my NM worked hard as a single mom.  She remarried when I was 7 and divorced again 2 years later and we lived in several different states and I started my fifth different school when I was in the middle of 4^th grade (she always did what she wanted and never seemed to wait till summer to move!). 

All these years later, seeing her only maybe once a year, perhaps prolonged hanging onto that bond, prolonged it till it was just a thread, and now these last couple of years I reached the end of the rope.