Monday, October 11, 2010

My mom moved in a week ago from this past Saturday. Things went well. She was like the mom I had and loved as a kid. Helpful, funny, sane, creative, fun! She was designing the wedding centerpieces and doing a damned good job. I have ordered a deep red silk to make her a gorgeous mother-of-the-bride outfit, easy to fit in since one of my bridesmaids can't make it and so I was going to make my mom's dress in place of that one.

The this morning I woke up, she had made trail mix, was fine, then suddenly she went apeshit over the AppleTV remote being lost (we don't have cable, so that remote is the only think to control Netflix on the TV) and me eating a handful of trail mix (as she told me to) before looking for it. Tomorrow morning she is leaving back to Winton. Supposedly those people who don't even buy shampoo and won't take her to her medical appointments if I don't wire money every few days take better care of her than I do. My brother is coming out Thursday. To see her. She's not going to be here. She won't even wait a few days to see her son who she hasn't seen in seven years. She's off her Zoloft and won't get it filled (I'm willing and able to pay out of pocket for it) because she's unbalanced enough to irrationally say no. So without it, she won't get balanced. She won't get balanced because she won't get it filled. Lovely catch-22.

I was told not to. Everyone told me not to. But she's physically sick with something she couldn't have caused. And I didn't want to leave her to fend for herself physically ill to the point of disabled. So I tried, and was willing to let her stay here as long as she needed and asked nothing at all in return. And it's not enough. She's focused on what she perceives to be my shortcomings and where she thinks she's not getting enough help rather than focusing on what we have done and were going to continue doing.

The worst part for me is Charlotte adores her. She's going to walk out on the baby who prefers to go to her over me pretty often. It's going to hurt Charlotte that the grandma she is now used to seeing every day suddenly won't be around because a cockroach-infested house with people who I have to bribe to take her where she needs to go are more important. You walk out on Charlotte once, you don't get a second time. My daughter comes first.

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