Today, Dear Ole Mum dropped off a bagful of possibly-me-shaped clothing, some with the store tags still on, to megpie71 while I was at work
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It's less strength and more weariness at this point. I honestly don't think that she'd change unless a majority of her friends and family got together and told her that she was being a manipulative old bat and that if she kept doing it they'd cut her out of their lives.
Of course, it would probably kill her.
Maybe she could be encouraged to join some kind of local interfering biddies group. "Ladies who lunch," as M puts it. Something to give her a short-term sense of purpose, now she's retired. She can have a couple of Good Causes to champion, write Letters To The Editor, that sort of thing.
I'd suggest her local church, but Dad's pretty much soaked up all the groups from that - from acting in stage performances to directing and writing religious-event musicals to being backstage at the carol night to helping refugees with language and red tape barriers to everything else. Mum's left with a couple of hours a week of tutoring to satisfy her need to control and direct, and it's obviously not enough. Sigh.
I'm reminded of my Aunt Julia, who got together with the interfering biddies who also lived on her long, winding rural road. They called themselves "The Ladies of the Lane", and neither I or my Dad ever quite had the malice to point out that it made them sound like a coterie of hookers.
Then again, given that my poor Uncle Phil only stayed married to her so he wouldn't have to give her half of everything that he'd earned and she hadn't done a rap for, who knows what she was up to...
As Himself pointed out, I have had previous practice with this particular set of expectations. After all, our previous mutual employer used to try it - I'd get asked to ask Himself to do things, in the hope that my influence might make him do something distasteful when he didn't want to.
My usual habit when faced with these was to do the asking, but warn them beforehand that I wasn't able to guarantee a positive answer. I have a feeling Himself's DOM is going to need to learn where I stand on this one - which is well and truly out of the way. If I want family politics, I can get it from my own family. I don't need to deal with my MIL trying to force Himself into fitting her idea of what a good boy should be. I certainly don't need the bloody rants.
I may have to convey this to her bluntly at some point. Whether she'll listen is another question, but I figure that if she wants stubborn, I can give her a fair old dose of that. The bit I resent is that she appears to think I'm dumb enough to go along with her.
Mmm, this probably says a fair bit about me, too. The few formative episodes of my childhood I can recall were all about either refusing or being forced into complying with actions which I felt compromised my self-image as a complete, valid individual. These were mainly -
1) At ten years of age, refusing to attend church any more (I won that one).
2) Refusing to comply when my parents told me they had volunteered my (unpaid) services to mow someone else's lawn. If you want my help, you ask, you don't dictate. I will never, ever be guilted into action (or inaction) because of someone else's presumption. "But I said you would!" is deserving of no more reponse other than "Did you really
( ... )
Quote: "Who the hell would ever do that to anyone, let alone a kid? What a complete betrayal of trust! Way to abandon logic, respect for other people's property, and parental responsibility there."
Good thing you turned out intelligent enough to recognize that she was being unreasonable, instead of doing what most kids do and automatically picking things up from the examples their parents set. What your ultra-destructive younger brother took from it I don't know. Hopefully he wasn't spoilt or anything, which is the impression I would have drawn from what you've said if I'd been in your position.
Li'l bro wasn't spoilt, exactly, but he had a lot of physical energy and not that much in the way of emotional dampers. He was always the one who got my hand-me-down clothes and never left anything wearable (or sometimes even recognisable) for our youngest brother
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Argh, now I'm torn as to whether I should get him interested in tattoos... so much potential sibling-revenge material when one party doesn't have much in the way of self-restraint :)
I mean, he'd be thrilled with the idea, I'd get endless amusement that his first six would probably come from Shaky Freddy, and either way it would absolutely mortify our mum - wins all round!
My mom was the SAME way, but with all of us, but I still occasionally cave when it's convenient. Is this really worth the fight? Granted, I would've returned the clothes, too ('cause NOBODY tells me what to wear) but picking a fight over it will just make her make people choose sides. And you made your point clear.
You know, I honestly can't remember when I first found your journal. I'm betting, however, that I was searching on mechatronics at the time.
As for why I friended you, you've got posts about engineering, canada and examples of wordplay, and your interests include singing, robots and art, as well as the aforementioned mechatronics. You update fairly often and have interesting perspectives on stuff I think about myself. What's not to like?
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I wish I could be that strong with my D.O.M. *sigh*
*hugs you*
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It's less strength and more weariness at this point. I honestly don't think that she'd change unless a majority of her friends and family got together and told her that she was being a manipulative old bat and that if she kept doing it they'd cut her out of their lives.
Of course, it would probably kill her.
Maybe she could be encouraged to join some kind of local interfering biddies group. "Ladies who lunch," as M puts it. Something to give her a short-term sense of purpose, now she's retired. She can have a couple of Good Causes to champion, write Letters To The Editor, that sort of thing.
I'd suggest her local church, but Dad's pretty much soaked up all the groups from that - from acting in stage performances to directing and writing religious-event musicals to being backstage at the carol night to helping refugees with language and red tape barriers to everything else. Mum's left with a couple of hours a week of tutoring to satisfy her need to control and direct, and it's obviously not enough. Sigh.
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Then again, given that my poor Uncle Phil only stayed married to her so he wouldn't have to give her half of everything that he'd earned and she hadn't done a rap for, who knows what she was up to...
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My usual habit when faced with these was to do the asking, but warn them beforehand that I wasn't able to guarantee a positive answer. I have a feeling Himself's DOM is going to need to learn where I stand on this one - which is well and truly out of the way. If I want family politics, I can get it from my own family. I don't need to deal with my MIL trying to force Himself into fitting her idea of what a good boy should be. I certainly don't need the bloody rants.
I may have to convey this to her bluntly at some point. Whether she'll listen is another question, but I figure that if she wants stubborn, I can give her a fair old dose of that. The bit I resent is that she appears to think I'm dumb enough to go along with her.
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1) At ten years of age, refusing to attend church any more (I won that one).
2) Refusing to comply when my parents told me they had volunteered my (unpaid) services to mow someone else's lawn. If you want my help, you ask, you don't dictate. I will never, ever be guilted into action (or inaction) because of someone else's presumption. "But I said you would!" is deserving of no more reponse other than "Did you really ( ... )
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Good thing you turned out intelligent enough to recognize that she was being unreasonable, instead of doing what most kids do and automatically picking things up from the examples their parents set. What your ultra-destructive younger brother took from it I don't know. Hopefully he wasn't spoilt or anything, which is the impression I would have drawn from what you've said if I'd been in your position.
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I mean, he'd be thrilled with the idea, I'd get endless amusement that his first six would probably come from Shaky Freddy, and either way it would absolutely mortify our mum - wins all round!
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My mom was the SAME way, but with all of us, but I still occasionally cave when it's convenient. Is this really worth the fight? Granted, I would've returned the clothes, too ('cause NOBODY tells me what to wear) but picking a fight over it will just make her make people choose sides. And you made your point clear.
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Do I know you from somewhere? How'd you stumble across my blog from the other side of the world? How are you?
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As for why I friended you, you've got posts about engineering, canada and examples of wordplay, and your interests include singing, robots and art, as well as the aforementioned mechatronics. You update fairly often and have interesting perspectives on stuff I think about myself. What's not to like?
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Welcome, friend.
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