I bet you think I'm talking about the latest story I wrote. I'm not. Today it's all about my mother.
As a good friend of mine once asked, "When did we become the adults, and our parents become the whiny, bratty children?"
You see, we were supposed to rent a beach house for a month back home in Rhode Island. But then my father had a melanoma scare. We had to wait until July 10 for the results from his test. So my mother put off the idea of going up until we knew what was going on with my father. Luckily, the results of the surgery came back negative. yay
So he's all comfy cozy, not going to die, or have to have chemo. Which means, we're free to do whatever we want for the rest of the summer.
I told my mother if she wanted to rent a beach house up there, she needed to get on the stick and find one in January. By March, everything is booked solid. (I used to live in a resort town, I know how it works.) And naturally, my mother didn't do that.
Having owned our own beach house for 30 years, my mother can't grasp the concept that she must "rent" now. She thinks we can just go up there, and something will magically appear. For less than $500- a week. (I've checked -- if you can find something for a $1000- a week, you're doing something.)
Now, she has a good friend that we (Monster, me and my mother) stayed with a couple of years ago. It's right up the street from the beach, very quiet and cozy, and even though I was worried Monster would drive the old lady crazy, she didn't. She was a very good little kid.
However, this year, my mother doesn't want to bother Mary. (Mary's 85.) Well, actually, my mother doesn't want ME to bother Mary. I don't know why, I cook, clean, and stay out of Mary's way. We were down the beach most days last time. It's not like we throw giant parties or drink or I have 10 kids.
So I told my mother that she could stay at Mary's and I would stay with my cousins. Or rather that Monster and I would stay in my brother's camp trailer at my cousins house. They have a pool, and a 2 year old girl that Monster could play with. (She's very good with little kids.)
You'd think I told my mother I was going to stay on the moon. "Well, I have stuff to do when I go up there. I don't need to be carting you and Monster to and from the beach everyday."
Um, did you miss the fact there's a POOL at my cousins house? A big freaking pool. That nobody uses. Monster doesn't care where she swims, as long as she CAN swim.
I get the idea that my mother doesn't want me around. Problem is, my father won't let her drive up there alone, so someone has to drive her. And that would be me. And wherever I go, Monster goes.
And you know, I need a vacation. Bad. I'm almost ready to chuck the whole idea of doing anything with my mother and just packing me and Monster a suitcase and cruising up there by ourselves. But if I do, then my mother will just be a whiny brat.
All I know is she needs to make up her mind what she's going to do within the next two weeks. I've got someone lined up to watch the dogs. I've got the bills paid through August. I AM going to the beach, whether up there or in NC.
I don't understand -- I gave her two viable options to stay in RI. What is the big deal? Pick one and let's get on with it. Why is there all this drama?
Robynne Rand (c) 2013