My sister has a blog. I love it. Read it here
She recently wrote about how she always thought that our parents loved me more. That was not the whole point of the blog but..it came up.
But I always felt I was judged the most, loved the least.
I always felt that she was: The Girl and Waz was: The Baby and I was: The Disappointment.
But I have to be honest, it was along the lines of the backhanded compliment... because I always felt like they felt like I was the best of the bunch and I just screwed it all up...that's a heavy load, right?
Anyway, she talked in her blog about how she always felt like I was the most loved because I got the most attention ...but it took the form of yelling and punishing..
No matter what I did it seemed like I was always getting yelled at for some crap even if it was accidental or not my fault at all. I drove my Moms car ONCE in a parking lot because she was trying to teach me how to drive...2 years later the clutch went out and she tried to blame me. (I'm not making this up) Another time the ice maker broke, I was blamed for it. The evidence against me? I was always drinking big cups of ice water.
The other day my sister and I were talking and a story came up that completely epitomizes this dynamic. I think what makes it so perfect an example is that it happened only 5 years ago.
SO:
It was mothers day. I was going to make a big dinner for the Moms. That consisted of my mom and a mom who was a close friend of the family. I went to Sam's and bought Filet's ($80.00 worth or something stupid like that) Plus a couple bottles of Jim Beam marinade.( also expensive)
I was standing in front of the fridge that my mom has a million pictures of all the various extended and actual grand kids on.
I picked up the bottle and shook it back and forth instead of up and down....a jet of marinade shot all down the front of me with the first quick twist of my wrist, with the second the refrigerator got a liberal coating. Marinade was in my eyes, up my nose and a thick line of it ran from my hairline to my waist.
A tiny piece of minced garlic started trying to burn a hole through my nasal passage.
Mom looked at me for a beat and then said:
" What did you do that for!?"
I said the only thing one could in that situation.
" Like I ......meant to do that!"
( the pregnant pause contained a silent "F***ing!")
In that one exclamation a pure distillation of my black sheep status. The implication that, despite all logical evidence to the contrary, I somehow was up to some shit, yet again.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
It seems You never stop being who you were
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6 comments:
That comment was quintesential mom, which is sad really that her gut reaction was to accuse you. It was all I could do to contain my laughter--I mean that is what you do when someone get's hit in the nads or accidently flings bbq sauce everywhere.
One last thing...I don't care what you say, you did get more attention. They didn't even bother to discipline me, the usual response "go to your room, Mommy is watching General Hospital". One day it was pouring rain, I mean hard and she knew I had to walk home from school. Do you think she looked out the window and thought "hhhmm Christina might get wet, maybe I'll pick her up" NOPE Her ass sat on the couch and watched Phil Donahue. Snap
Whatever, we only lived a half mile from the school.Besides in the movies walking in the rain is so romantic...you're right,that was pretty weak on her part.
For the record I would have preferred a lot less attention. I think I would have been happy to move into the garage around the age of 15...
You totally should have moved into the garage--that loft area was awesome.
I asked,but they wouldn't let me.
dude, i wasn't even there, and i feel like i remember that event, i've heard it so many times. not about the garage, about the bbq sauce.
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