I wish I knew why I let this stuff bother me. I mean, in the grand scheme of things what’s it worth anyway? Last night as I was putting in five miles (of walking for Just ‘Cause) on the treadmill I decided to call my mother. She has been away for two months and I thought it would be a nice gesture to welcome her home. Never mind the fact she has been home a week now. She’s probably been too busy for a call until now anyway. She wasn’t home.
When she called me back two hours later I could tell she wanted to talk. Normally, I can gab with my mother for hours on end. A few years ago the flood gates of confession had been permanently propped open and now I can practically tell her anything. Notice I said practically anything. As for talking for hours, last night was different. My hip was a little wonky and at that point all I wished for was bed. I’ve taken to reading a chapter or two before lights out. I found it’s been relaxing and producing a nonscientific deeper slumber. I begged off promising to call her back tomorrow, but. But! But, not before she was able to ask the dreaded FiveWordQ. “When are you coming up?” Here’s where it ends. This is the point when I can’t talk to mom.
Why does it make me angry that when the Other Daughter who lives in the same state offers to visit mom tells me “I didn’t want her to…” and yet in the same breath she can request my present from three states away as if I can snap my fingers and be there at a moment’s notice? I think I know the answer to my own sorry pondering. I knew it well enough to refrain from asking, “Why didn’t you want your Other Daughter to visit?” Because the answer would have been all about having kids. It’s the age-old problem. I don’t have kids so I’m as rich as Midas and as bored as hell. I have nothing better to do with my money or my time. It’s nothing for me to hop in a car and drive five hours. Never mind the fact that I will end up eating like crap because it’ll be restaurant food. Never mind the fact I’ll sleep like sh!t because it’ll be on a futon two sizes too small or an air mattress with a slow leak. Never mind that it’ll throw my training schedule off because I’ll be too busy playing chauffeur. Never mind that my bank account will take a hit because every bit of this trip will cost money. Bitter? Definitely.
I guess I don’t understand this inequality crap. It comes down to the HaveKids camp versus the HaveNotKids camp and, as always, the HaveNotKids camp loses. Guess I need to go “buy myself an orphan girl and bring her up as mine.”
postscript ~ I have calmed down enough to concede to a visit. We leave Saturday.