...Think, Think, Think...

Do you have Christmas in France? CHRIIIISTMAAAAS?

I don't get to see much of my extended family.  I live with my parents but their siblings all live quite a way away.  In the case of most of my mother's family I'm pleased about it as the crazy/evil/bitter might be catching and I don't need any of that.

In the case of my dad's family though, I wish I saw them more often.  They're all lovely people that you can talk to and have a laugh with and on the occasions we do get together its always fun to catch up.

Recently one of my uncles was over from Norway.  He lives out there with his wife, who's Norwegian herself.  She's a real sweetie, not to mention extremely intelligent and, as is the case with most people "on the continent", she speaks very good english.  They were over as he had some work business to attend to and so I guess they were trying to make a little holiday of it.  Part of that was to spend a bit of time with us one evening.

I'll spare you the story about my dad and I busting our arses to clean the house while mother did nothing more than expand hers.  The house was clean by the time they got here and I'd managed to have one little dig at my mother's laziness in the process (good times!).

After a quick coffee at our house, its decided that we'll go out to eat and we settle on a curry.  I was in full swing of my diet at that point and I'm sure chicken korma did me no favours, but who cares.

It panned out that in the restaurant, the three of us ladies were on one side of the table and the gents were on the other side.  Unfortunately for her, my uncles wife was between my mother and I and that meant no escape.

My old mother isn't all that great in social situations.  She seems to think she is, but she tends to come across as patronising, overbearing, condescending. Just plain irritating and during the meal - in fact during the whole evening - conversations such as the following one took place:

My mother (in raised voice to my aunt, who is happily enjoying her meal): IS THAT NICE?

My aunt: Yes, its lovely.  Really spicy.  We had a curry in London recently, but it wasn't as spicy as this one.

My Mother: DO YOU HAVE CURRY IN NORWAY?

My aunt (hiding her confusion): Yes, we do...

I was dumbstruck. In situations similar to this one that I've witnessed with other people I've been able to say something like "Yes, Adam knows what a trade union is.  He's 33." but this time I just couldn't find the words.  The total embarassment had eaten them up.  Probably with a smattering of mint raita on the side.

This woman, this extremely intelligent woman, who speaks english fluently even down to the use of colloquialisms, is being spoken to in the manner sterotypically adopted by an English person speaking to a foreigner.  That good old english notion that if you're abroad and don't speak the language, just shout in english and they'll understand.

Except that it wasn't necessary; she did understand.  She's Norwegian, not martian.  They have pretty much the same stuff in Norway they have here.  We've been there, we saw.

I doubt they'll be rushing back to visit again soon...

Video Blog Update

For those of you who saw it and are wondering where it is, I've taken the video blog down.

I needed to vent and I did, and I very much appreciate your comments.  Silly as it may sound, I felt like I needed some rational adults to tell me that I wasn't way off base for reacting the way that I did and because my readers are awesome, a few of you did that - so thank you all very much for that.

I may do another post to update on the situation further, but after a few days to think and no returned calls or email I think I'm fairly safe (but heartbroken) to say that that chapter of my life has now drawn to a close.

If anything, this has taught me that you can't force people to be your friends - nor can you choose their spouse for them to make sure they get someone who you know they really deserve - and I guess if you really care for them you let them do whatever they need to in order to live as happy and peaceful a life as possible.

And thats what I'll do. 

I'll probably despise her forever though, just to be clear on that. :)

Found Ya...

Sometimes, as most bloggers probably do, I like to have a look and see how people have found my site.

A lot of the time its either people who have my bookmarked, or find me through another blog I read but occasionally they find me through a search engine.

Yesterday, someone found my blog after typing in "How to fix a bad mother-daughter relationship".

I don't know if that person found any useful information in my posts.  But, if you are that person and you happened to have come back I'll give you my honest opinion.

If it's recently gone bad, you might be able to fix it.  If it's always been bad, you have to find a way to reconcile it in your head and come to terms with the fact that you're probably never going to have that "my mother is my best friend" thing happening.  Another helpful tool is to look at your mother's relationship with her mother.  If it was bad, there's a pattern here and on some level you have to consciously break that cycle - for your own sake.

It took me a lot of counselling and soul searching before I realised that I was tying myself in knots to please my mother and it was totally pointless.  It never worked.  It was never enough and I got tired of feeling like I was never enough.

Its been a few years now since I was in therapy working through it all, but I can honestly say that now, other than the odd frustration at things that go on in my house I'm totally at ease with the fact that we're not that family. 

I aspire to more for my children.  I want to be a good mother for them if/when I have them.  I don't want to make them feel like I felt for way too much of my life.

Thats just my two cents worth, if you've come back that is.  If you're reading and you're not that searcher, then you've just had another bit of insight into my inner workings!

Reason #1 why my friends are fabulous

SMS Conversation, approx 2:20pm:

Me:  Well, my mood just got better!  I just got wolf whistled at walking back from lunch.  I was close enough to look and see who did it but I decided not to, that way I can imagine he was hot.

My fabulous friend: He would have been hot babes, trust me.  You only deserve hot!  He's probably still pining for you now.

Saying Goodbye

The Funeral was today.  I'd never been to one before.

The church was packed, barely enough room for everyone to sit.

We walked in behind the coffin to Even After All, by Finlay Quaye which I'e always loved as a mellow summer tune and it was somehow very fitting:

His younger brother and sister delivered a eulogy together and my heart broke for them both...it was very clear a huge part of their lives is now missing.

There was a hymn, some prayers and readings from the bible which on some level I tuned out of.  Not out of a lack of respect for the family but just because of a different belief system.  Its interesting how for a person who doesn't believe in god, preaching on any level can just reiterate your lack of belief.

Then, they played Champagne Supernova by Oasis which I don't think I'll listen to in the same way.  He was a huge Oasis fan.  I remember when the Be Here Now album was released, he was sitting in the kitchen and reading through the liner notes, pointing different things out.

Another work colleague of his also spoke and told us what we already knew - what a good person the deceased was and how tragic of a loss it is.  They had become friends working for an aquatic company and the colleage said how he was such a humble person - fascinated by the marine fish and always willing to learn.  There were even clients from the business there to pay their respects.  Through all of their grief, i'm sure his family must be so exceedingly proud of the man he became.

Finally we sang All Things Bright and Beautiful, said the Lords Prayer and went to the cemetary to watch his "mortal remains" be laid to rest.  I hated that term.  I can't explain why.

I only stayed at the wake for a short while, they are a huge family and I didn't want to be under anyones feet and felt that because there were so many people, any extra space I could free up would be for the best.  I didn't feel that I needed to stay to pay my respects, I did that in the church and this was definitely a time for family to come together, which I'm sure they did.

I wasn't as outwardly emotional as I'd expected, but I cried when his brother and sister spoke.  Other than that, I just felt anxious and helpless - there is nothing you can do to help.  I put together a few plastic glasses at the wake and poured a couple of drinks but thats so trivial.  I don't like to feel as though I can't do something to make it just a tiny bit better.

As I left, I reminded them all that if there was anything they needed they could call on me whenever.  I think the one thing they need will be time...

Not Enough, Too Young

Lately, I have been going through another of my famed "crises of achivement".  Every year at least once, I go through a panic about what I have and haven't achieved.  The relationships I'm not in.  The size 10 I am not.  The promotion I haven't been offered.  The degree I don't have.

I was just in the early stages of one of these and then I got some horrible, tragic news.

Last weekend, a friend of the family was found dead in his flat.  He was 25.  6 months younger than me.

We went to mothers andtoddlers together, then school right the way through until we left at 16.  I know his family.  Parents, younger siblings, sister in law.

We weren't ever what you could call close.  we'd known eachother all that time but would seldom speak.  Not through any falling out or animosity, just because he was never much of a talker.  We'd always just nod in recognition and smile.  Maybe the occasional "alright?" if we were extra chatty.

Initially, we just heard that he'd died.  That was Sunday and in spite of the fact that he'd been in and out of hospital and had a few close calls in the last few years, I couldn't believe it.  Monday morning, my dad called me at work to tell me the next snippet of the story, which was that he was in bed when they found him.  I had to go and stand in the toilets at work, I felt like I'd just been thrown into a wall.  Apparently thats what shock feels like - I didn't know.

Since then, more pieces of the puzzle have come through.  Some correct, some not.  I think that it was his mother who found him.  He hadnt been round to his parents place for a few days and that was unusual.  When she found him he was in bed, eyes open and mouth agape.  He'd made his lunch for the next day, he was an insulin-dependent diabetic and his next injection was ready to go.  That was him all over - a hard worker and always prepared.  I don't know if she'll ever get that face out of her mind.  I'm told that she feels like he was calling out for her and she wasn't there.

In a strange way, this has made me realise how fortunate I am.  He is the first person that has died that I've been closely associated with.  I don't really know if I'm dealing with it in the right way.  I haven't really cried, but I have felt pretty shaken about it.  I want to offer more help to the family but I know that I can't.

I'm going to the funeral on Wednesday and I have no idea what the ettiquette is.  Or even what to wear.  I'm going straight from work so a black suit I suppose.  I'd told my boss I'd come back to the office after the service but he said I'll be in no fit state to do that and not to bother.  That I might think I'm ok about it now, but once I see the grief of his family I'll be a lot less ok.

The whole point of this post really is to get my thoughts down about it all.  I want to send good vibes to his parents and family and to wish him well.  I'm a firm believer in reincarnation so I'm sure he's just getting started on his next existance but i'd like it to be known - universally and what not - that he'll be missed by many people and that even on nodding terms, it was a prvilege to know someone who was such a good guy. 

Getting Lippy

Dad, do you think this lipstick is too much?

Erm...yeah.  It is.

I thought so.  Its a bit heavy.

Yeah, makes your mouth look really big.

Hmm.  I do feel a bit like a painted doll.

Its more like blow-up doll.

I'll change.

Being Sociable

Its 2am and I just got home from a really good day/night out.  An old work colleague was having a birthday barbeque and as he was a current work colleague when we were invited, a few of us went.

Astonishingly, I've discovered my capacity for spending time with people, having a drink and a laugh.  I usually expect people to get wasted and piss me off.  Instead, I chatted to all sorts of people (known mostly by what they were wearing - green tights and blue shirt are prime examples) and was my usual cutting sarcastic self with my friends.  We had lots of food and lots of beer and lots of laughs, as well as admiring men that we probably shouldn't have.

I've got no voice left from shouting over the music.  I expect to have a hangover tomorrow, but I had a fantastic time.

This is the shit that lifes about.  Not waiting around for things to happen but going out and finding them.

How buying food from burger vans can ruin your day

Today was one of those days.

It started out really well.  Free Molton Brown goodies at work (I honestly haven't been so excited at freebies in ages) and nothing too seriously complicated going email-wise. 

Lucnhtime rolls around and I decided to get a burger from the van a minute or so away from my office.  On the journey there and back, I got wolf-whistled at twice and a guy actually stopped his car to talk to me.  Lunch was good.  Cheeseburger whilst chatting to a colleague about life in general. 

Throughout the course of the afternoon, things got a little worse.  Colleague complaining that my sarcastic mocking is bullying rather than a sign of affection so I said if its a problem I just won't talk unless its work related.  Headache starts to set in.  Generally not feeling well.  Little niggly work related issues.  Trying to be helpful and ending up with more work for myself.  Obviously I'll do it, its what I'm paid for but sometimes its a bit frustrating that I pick something up because no one else does and my repayment for that is to get given more work.

By the time I got home at about 5:45pm, I'm feeling truly horrible.  Sick but not being sick.  Parents arrive home at around the same time.  I comment on how ill I feel.  How i'm guessing it was the burger.  No one really says anything.  We go food shopping.

We go to Tescos, and I'm wandering around feeling like crap and trying to work out exactly what the hell I'm going to cook for dinner for the next month (because mother doesn't cook, it'd get in the way of her being-a-lazy-bitch time and we can't have that) and what ingredients I need to do that.  I really want to go home, put my fingers down my throat (sorry for the graphics, but I'm better at being sick than feeling sick) and go to bed.  Eventually, dad and I meet up and he asks what we're doing for dinner.  Having told him already that I'm not feeling well, I'd have figured he'd understand that "I'm not really bothered" meant "I'm not really bothered about eating, because I feel like shit".  So he wanders off and I carry on around the shop. 

Several times I pass my mother, I see her and actively turn away and pretend to be engrossed in the combination of my iPod and whatever is on the shelves.  I bump into dad again, who asks me (again) what we're doing for dinner.  I said I thought he went off to find something before, and rather than simply saying "I thought you were doing it." he went off in a strop.  Like a child.  So again, I carry on weaving my way through the aisles. 

We catch up a third time and he's brought something over for dinner and is awaiting my approval.  For the second time I say "Yeah, thats fine, but I'm really not that bothered."  This time, he throws the things down in the trolley and walks away saying "FINE, I'll sort something out myself then." and actually leaves the trolley in the middle of the aisle.  At this point, I can't go anywhere because his stuff is there, so I move his trolley and struggle with mine to the end of the aisle, waiting until he comes back over.  "You left your trolley there", I say when he comes back.  His response to that is to walk away, barely even acknowledging that I was there.

By now, I've got everything I need and we're going to pay except mother has disappeared.  What happens now is dad gets even more pissed off and tries to find her.  I beat him to it and because she can see that he and I have had an argument of sorts, she decides to try and be nice to me.  No thanks, pal.  Even I'm smart enough to see through that.  She starts to unpack things onto the checkout and I have to go and find dad.  He's really furious at this point and so am I because with every passing second I feel more ill.  I find him and yell "She's down there, happy as fucking larry like a little sheep that wandered off on its own.  She really has no idea what this is like for me.  None at all."

We make our way over to her and she asks if I'm okay.  Let me be clear about something.  If I'm angry about something, its obvious.  There's no question, no subtlty to my anger.  People 10 tills down can feel the atmosphere.  I snap, "I'm absolutely fucking fine."  So, if the look of thunder on my face isn't clear enough, the snappy comment should clarify it, no?

I guess not.  She then says "Could you pass this to the lady..." and holds out her clubcard (For the non-UK readers, its a loyalty card - they give you money off etc).  We're stood no more than 4 inches apart and she's more than capable of handing the card to the cashier.  I reply "Can't you reach?  If you just take a couple of steps forward you should be fine."  I then get the obligatory "Right, fine. *mumbleweakattemptatguilttripwhichinolongerfallforbecauseshesjustnotthatfuckingclever*"  I then snap (again - snappy cow aren't I?).  "Its just that i'm going to be stood packing bags for the next 5 minutes so maybe you could do this bit".  Another bugbear.  She doesn't help packing.  She just stands there on ceremony while dad and I do it.

The cashier smiled at me and said hi as I walked past, and I smiled and said hi too.  Not her fault, so why be rude to her?  Dad and I begin to pack the bags and we're barely talking.  We then take the trolleys to the car while she pays and I inform him "She'll have the arse now" as mother isn't someone you can have grown up conversations with or who understands other peoples moods.  He ignores me.  My bad mood has pretty much disippated by now.  I'm a vent-er.  I snap for 5 minutes than I'm fine.

We get home.  I grab about 5 of the bags, bring them into the kitchen and immediately run to the bathroom to be sick.

What would have been lovely would have been if one of them had said "Are you okay?"  Nothing.  Nada. Rien.  After a few minutes, I surface looking decidedly green.  Not a word.  By now, the shopping has all been brought in and dad is sat on the sofa.  I ask if he'll be ok to get his own dinner this evening.  He says yes and I explain that I'm really not feeling well and not going to eat.  He ignores me some more and reads his new computer magazine.  I contemplated repeating myself.  Wanted to say "Hey, hold on a second here.  If you've had a shit day, or you're tired or ill, I ask whats wrong and if I can do anything to help.  How about showing me the same courtesey?"

I didn't do that of course.  I know better even if it does feel like a punch in the face.  The thing is, more than being angry at them for not caring, I'm angry with myself for being upset that they don't care. I know the drill.  It reads like such a cliche.  Bad mother/daughter relationship.  Only child being over-dramatic.  Fuck, I wish I was.  I wish my imagination was good enough to make this sort of shit up.

I don't like there being bad feeling between my father and I (really, he's the only immediate family I've got.  The woman who gave birth to me lives here too, but to say "mother" in anything other than a totally sarcastic way would be an outlandish over-estimation of our relationship).  That said, I'm not being unreasonable wishing for a bit of sympathy when I'm feeling unwell.  I'm not asking anyone to go out of their way or wait on me hand and foot.  A very simple "I hope you feel better" would be more than enough.

Still, at the end of the day, I'm powerless to change it and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend my whole night crying about it.  I'm operating a new policy with regard to crying.  5 minutes maximum.  Instead, i'm making use of the blog.  Write it all down. After all, crying over it won't make it clean.

Although, what may help is not gong back to the burger van again...

Family Values

As I often posted in my now-deleted archives, my family - like everyone elses I suppose - has some issues.  Mostly on my mothers side.

I stopped seeing them all when I was about 18 and learned of some things that had gone on.  I haven't seen any of them since.  That's fairly easy given that they live in Southampton and I'm a bit north of London.  There isn't any awkward run-ins on the street where I have to try and hide behind trees.   My maternal grandfather died last June and my learnings were enough that I didn't go to his funeral.  I didn't even feel any particular sadness.  More a case of "shit, mum's crying" followed by my only logical reaction which was, due to my weak relationship with my mother, a Monty-Python-esque cry of "RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!" 

Yesterday, my father went to the funural of my godfathers dad in Portsmouth and on his way down, he dropped into see my maternal grandmother and pick up some christmas presents that were there for me.  Once he'd left and got to the funeral he realised that in the box were a couple of presents for another aunt and when he got home this evening he called her to let her know.

So here's whats gone on with certain members of the family since the funeral. 

My mother is the middle child of 7, so we'll refer to the others all by numbers for ease.  Aunt 3 has a son with some pretty impressive gambling debts (he's 41 - a big boy now, ought to be able to deal with these things himself.).  Aunt 5 is the one my dad was talking to.

It turns out that when my grandfather died, he left a car behind (Obviously!  He couldn't take it with him.).  This car, at book price is worth about 7 grand.  The husband of Aunt 5 had offered to buy it from my grandmother (who can't drive anyway) for book price.  I mean, no one buys a car for book if they can help it.  But anyway, he'd made this offer as his car was on the outs.  Son of Aunt 3 seemed to have worked out the value of this car and started to "pop round" to my grandmothers house, doing little errands for her, helping out, doing little odd jobs etc. Basically, this prime example of human atrocity was setting up his 80+ year old grandmother so that he could buy the car from her cheap.

£200 sort of cheap.  Thats not a typo.  Thats TWO HUNDRED pounds.

So, Aunt 5 hears about this, and disregarding the fact that her husband offered substantially more for the car, she was appalled that her nephew had the nerve to do this.  Somehow, the news filters back to Uncle 1 (he's the only uncle, but the oldest so I've numbered him) who comes over from Denmark where he lives and tells my grandmother that its not on.  That a - she shouldn't have sold it for £200 in the first place, but also b - that it should have been offered to the children before the grandchildren.  It wasn't even offered to the other grand children to be fair, but anyway, not the point.

I learnt that 41-year old gambling scumbag is my grandmothers favourite and she told Uncle 1 that she'd done it now and wouldn't take it back.

So here we are...grandmother will now unlikely get visits from Uncle 1.  Aunt 2 lives a way away.  Mum (4) lives up here and only goes down there when absolutely necessary.  Aunt 5 has stopped visiting.  Aunt 6 lives further away and also recenly had some sort of stroke/brain thing and isn't really fit enough to travel and finally Aunt 7 lives in New Zealand.

In one very expensive move, my grandmother has set things up so that the only person who will visit is Aunt 3 and that will be out of guilt because of what her son did.  Because of course, now the son has the car you won't see him for dust.

In a strange way, it makes me realise for all the bitchy and sarcastic comments I make, I'm basically a good person.  I have the moral chops to know that ripping off your nan is wrong.  Very wrong.  It also reinforces why I don't see that side of the family, although I would quite like to see Aunt 5 now because I realise that she's the closest thing to a normal human being amongst the siblings.

As a total contrast, last weekend we went up north and stayed with my dad's family.  We had a great time.  They're all such lovely people.  We all had such a laugh together, like we always do.  There's a bit of weirdness and at least one person that no one really likes, but thats 1 person out of 5 siblings and wives rather than 5 people out of seven siblings and spouses.  On my dad's side there are no favourite grandchildren, my grannie loves us all - and is wiser for her years than to sell a £7k car for £200.