Adoption: When the Affects Go Past Death
I am so off my game right now. I’m going to attempt to get it out of my system, because I really don’t have the time to relish a nice drop in my productivity. I was so on a roll and I was really liking it. So I ramble on…
Living in an Evil World that Did Not End
So first off, there was the hellish day that is now known as the Newtown Elementary School Shooting. I know that affected pretty much everyone in some horrible way. I mean it’s impossible to have a heart and not care about the tragic events. I kind of avoided reading the news updates over and over again. I was PMS-ing and I do not enjoy crying over dead 6 year olds. I didn’t want to hate people, so I avoided the gun debates. Plus, we had holiday stuff to deal with like getting a tree. I selfishly avoided what I could.
Then, I will sheepishly admit, that I think I had some anxiety over 21-21-12. I blame it on too much NatGeo TV, but I was feeling a bit of trepidation. Not over a Zombie Apocalypse, but the whole sun spot flare up and magnetic pole migration gets me wigged out. The reality of either of these two events is mass disruption of all things electrical, and especially, for me, the internet. I feared losing my connection, my meager means of income, all my PEOPLE and all my work. I actually thought quite seriously about printing out 7 years of blog posts on paper as a safety net. The rational part of me said knock it off. After all if either of those things happened, my main concerns would probably not be lost blog posts, but everything else since we are not peppers.
Ok, I stayed in bed on 12-21 until after 11:00 when it was suppose to go down. I wanted to keep the kids home form school, but they didn’t want to miss their parties before winter break.
The Revenge of Boston- 25 Years of Anger
In between those two events, I received my package ofletters from Boston. That too, made me sad, but I managed to avoid directly crying. And then I would see a story about a brave teacher or dead 6 year old and cry. Add in the holidays. Throw down that money is tighter than usual this year, which is my fault because I quit my job to do this adoption thing fulltime, so I’m shrugging off guilt. Plus what do both the small ones have on their Christmas lists? A day with their oldest brother. Sad, sad, sad, that children ask to see their brother as a present.
So what do I do? I get sick as a dog. After my late morning on the 21st, I did manage to have a stupid fight with Rye (always happens when I am PMSing) and go to a lovely holiday party. After that, I proceeded to sleep until Christmas Eve. Seriously. I was fed Nyquil, soup and toast. Scarlett had it too and we called it the Zombie Flu because we were both just so tired and our brains were dead. It seriously thwarted what I had left of Christmas prep. Not that there was money to do much prep left, but Rye ended up wrapping all the presents while I stared out the window watching a flock of Cardinals in the yard. I tell you, I am way off my game. I usually push through. This year I just gave in. I was crying and could not even figure out what I was crying about!
All things withstanding, I’m still not quite back up to speed. The crying ( and PMS) have left. The flu is on the tail end of constant nose blowing, but no more Nyquil! However, I think I am having a full on fight with my mother.
Fighting With A Dead Mother
It’s kind of hard to have an argument with someone who is been dead for almost 18 years, but I think we are managing it. I know it sounds kind of crazy, but I tell you, my mother is mad at me for daring to be mad at her. How do I know? She keeps breaking shit all over my house!
Since receiving the letters and remembering, I have said openly that I was newly angered at my mother. I had forgotten just how pretty damn awful she was to me when I was in Boston. I am only a year older now than she was then. I can take away the view from my 19 year old self and see her actions as a parent, and even if I remove myself form the actual remember hurt and sadness, as another contemporary, another mother, I find fault with her actions.
She is not taking that criticism too well. She never was one of admit her failings. She was usually the one who was so hurt by other people’s actions. She did “so much” and other people let her down. I often have to watch myself so I don’t fall into the same patterns. I call it the “Martyr Syndrome”. I was trained to be a martyr, but I’m not into it. I do things for other people because I WANT to, not because I expect people to owe me. I make a pact not to keep track of stupid petty things like “whose turn” it is to call or whatever. I try to un-train myself from thinking things like “Oh, I have to do everything”. I admit it when I am wrong, even if I still hate being wrong.
I don’t think my mother likes me calling her out on her shit. I think she hates it even more that I am open about it her failings.
So, last Thursday night Rye made a lovely roast chicken for dinner. We were all hungry and waiting for the bird to be done. He had the rather small poultry and roasted potatoes on what is known as “The Turkey Platter”; a large oval platter, with an embossed turkey on it, that was my mothers and has been used for Thanksgiving as long as I can remember my Mother doing the holiday. So probably from about 1981, when my grandmother died and my mom took over, on. So, the patter was 30 years old, but just this past Thanksgiving we had a 24 pound bird on it. Yet, this past week, just a mere two days after my new anger directed towards my mother, it broke. It didn’t break due to someone dropping it, or banging it or anything logical like that. Nope, it SHATTERED in MID air as Rye held it. With our much desired dinner on the floor, he was shocked. He didn’t drop it; literally disintegrated in his hands.
My immediate thought was that my mother did it. Oddly enough, when I shared this with him, he did not tell me I was crazy. I mean, it just made no sense that this platter would decide to break at that moment unless it happened to be my mother wielding her temper “Oh, fine, you don’t like what I did, then don’t use MY Turkey platter!”
SMASH
So then I was sick and I said to Rye from my bed, “Well at least my mother stopped breaking stuff” and he said, “No.”
OK, granted THIS could be attributed to the wind, but our gloriously ugly pink ashtray that was on the porch, broke in half. I have never had anything be BLOWN off a table on the porch and break. We were able to glue that one back together which is good. My MIL gave it to us, and while I know smoking is bad and all, and I can imagine my mother not approving, she still doesn’t get to break my stuff. I hated it when she did that when I was a teenager and I don’t like it now.
Geraldine One, Cardinals Zero
So, I was telling Colleen about what I thought she was up to and Col was staying “Send her to my mother ( Rye’s Grandmother)” I mean it makes sense to envision these two dead ladies having a little talk. Maureen is older and also had a daughter in similar circumstances, but THEY did not behave like my mother did. So yes, I can see Maureen reading Geraldine the riot act.
Now, I never met Maureen as she died before I was in the picture, but certain things I know. I know her favorite color was red and her favorite bird was a the Cardinal. I know that visions of Cardinals around the house are usually considered visits from Maureen. I was enjoying their visits in our pond, I was comforted by the huge flock that has been around the house all holiday season. In fact, as my holiday ornament purchase this year, I bought a lovely glass Cardinal for the tree.
Now my MIL had the same idea. And tonight, she brought over, for me, another Christmas present. Another glass ball with a Cardinal in it which I promptly hung on the tree.
And as we ate dinner, it fell to the floor and broke. Not one other decoration has fallen off this tree. Just the Cardinal one.
SMASH
Again, I am blaming my mother. I think Maureen DID find her and say something and Geraldine is STILL not pleased. In fact, I think this was her way of saying to me, that she does not appreciate our sending Maureen to her for a good talking to. She doesn’t like the interference from “these people” who shouldn’t know “her business” and by smashing the gift my mother-in-law gave me that represents her mother and the other side of the family on “her” tree, she made it quite clear.
So I am not sure what I can do here. I’m not into letting her off the hook. The truth is the truth and she behaved badly. I’m not going to cover it up because she can’t admit her faults. I considered getting out my old Ouija board and trying to have a conversation, but those things kind of bug me out. You never know who you are inviting in. I already have one cranky spirit in the house.
I Need the Long Island Medium
I wish the Long Island Medium didn’t have a five year wait list. I swear, before this fight with my mother happened, I would watch the show and think.. I could go see Theresa. My mother would talk to me through here. Maybe it’s because we are all from Long Island, but I wanted to have a reading before this crap started. Theresa cracks me up and I do love the show. It’s like visiting home all over again. I try to recognize the places she visits. I laugh at the heavy Long Island accent. I totally think she’s the real deal and could see my family being comfortable coming through her.
My mother used to go to other mediums before she died. We have family stories of other “haunting”, though they were more like “visits”. And even though she is breaking things, I don’t feel like this is a “hunting” it’s more like a absurd method of communication.
My mother is having a temper tantrum in the afterlife and I *think* I know what she is saying, but it sure would be easier if she could find another way! I’m filling out the contact form on Theresa’s site. My mom and I need a talk!
Great post Claud. Very relate-able for me.