Mother’s Day with a Side of Guilt

I love my mother. I do. Sometimes, though…Sometimes she drives me absolutely bat-shit crazy.

This past week has been pretty brutal in the drama department with my mother.  Today, Mother’s Day, was no exception.  Yesterday, DaddyGeek took her to a tattoo parlor to get her second tattoo (she has a rose tattooed on her shoulder to signify GeekGirl, and wanted to add another to signify Geeklet). The tattoos are sweet, and we had no problem making the appointment and have DaddyGeek drive her there to get it done. When they got there, the place looked skeevy, though, so they didn’t complete their mission. No problem, we figured there was a place closer by that had hours today – DG (DaddyGeek) would simply pick her up this afternoon and take her to get it done. It would be quick, it’s a small tattoo.

Fast-forward to this morning. I call to tell my mother that DG will call her at noon to let her know when the appointment is.  We were chatting and I suggested hey – maybe I would go with her and get a tattoo, too! I’ve wanted one, and I think I know what I’d like to get. She said no- she didn’t want me to come and get a tattoo because this is her “thing” all by herself.  I was a bit miffed at first, but you know what? We all need our “things” – if getting her tattoo alone is her thing, fine. I was fine with it.

She calls DG’s cell phone several hours later to say that she isn’t going to go with him because after I suggested that I would go, too, she felt like she was making everyone feel bad that she wanted her “thing” and even though I’m not upset and no one is upset and no one has even made a big deal about it, she doesn’t care, she feels weird about it and therefore she will make the ultimate sacrifice and not get this tattoo this weekend even though she’s been waiting for months. You see, she spent the week prior making a huge deal about how she needed it done immediately and that she was waiting because DG hasn’t called to make the appointment for her. Because she obviously can’t pick up the phone to do that herself, right? I understand that she felt nervous, but at the same time… it’s frustrating.

OH, and let’s not forget the kicker (as in, kick-me-when-I’m-down): After she told me that she didn’t want me to come with her or get a tattoo today because she was doing it, she went on to tell me that tattoos are special to her because they represent the people or things in her life that have been there and loved her unconditionally.  The only things or people that have been there for her and loved her unconditionally. She has a tattoo for her grandchildren, a tattoo for her lost pets, and soon a tattoo of her favorite sports team. You may not have noticed, so I’ll spell it out for you: Where the fuck am I?

I speak to this woman every day of my life. Many times during the day. I listen to her every woe, triumph, worry. I do my best to help her whenever and wherever I can, though Lord knows it is absolutely never good enough. And today, she made it very clear that she doesn’t recognize any of it. Not that I had any doubt, but it’s hard to hear it straight-out like that.

To top it all off, she called me afternoon and told me that she and my sister were going to get tattoos done in the evening probably, and did I want to come? She decided that her tattoo “thing” could be another day when she gets the tattoo for the sports team she loves. Oh, but if I do come I can’t be a “wimp” because even though I think that I handle pain well, I don’t. According to her.

I said no, thank you. I don’t know what I want and I can’t afford it anyway. Mentally or financially.

Somebody shoot me get my psychotherapist now.