When I arrived my mom was in a crabby mood and the apartment smells like someone sprayed air freshener from wall to wall. That is unusual — my spider sense vibrates. I could ask if someone doesn’t feel well, but I already know that I won’t believe any answer that I’m given. My mom’s confabulations are usually very believable, but too often not very close to reality. My dad’s response will surely be “I don’t remember.” I decide to watch and learn today.
We go to brunch and after my mom finishes a glass of champagne our conversation becomes unbearable. She starts to point to everyone around us and either state they are fat, mean or she just doesn’t like them.
I take a deep breath and ask my mom to name someone in the community she does like. This quiets the flame throwing for almost ten minutes as she contemplates my question. My dad’s initial retort is that they can’t hear us, so what harm do mom’s comments cause?
I use each visit to observe and learn. I can’t determine any specific reason for my mom’s mean spirit today. If this were a friend, I’d remove myself from their proximity; If it were my child, they would be spending some time in their room. I don’t have either of those options today.
My mom’s vitriol restarts with vigor as quickly as it faded. I move the conversation to discuss the dessert options. Using the tactics I would employ on my child or a friend that was acting the same way was a rookie move. My patience has left me and I don’t recognize the people I am having brunch with today. Tired.