I have a friend who once said about her sister one day as she described a fight they had, “The bitch had snipped her last snipe at me and I let her have it.” At the time I must have paused for a moment because she added, “Yes, I know. She seems angelic and perfect, but if you must know she truly can be an uber bitch. She just saves it for the family. That’s why you haven’t seen it.” I have sometimes reflected on this long ago conversation while living with my mother over the past 34 months. She looks like an angel and in many ways has been my savior, but there are times when I listen to her and I think to myself, “Is this the last snipe? Am I going to lose it?” Most often these thoughts occur during dinner. Every night it is our custom to go around the table and express one aspect for which we give thanks. This is something I dreamt up when Loren was little and he and I were living together during one of my separations from Matt. I wanted to instill some sort of appreciation or spirituality in him without trying to ram religion down his throat and I thought it a harmless way to give thanks, it continues to this day when I don’t feel like saying grace. That said, my older kids have pretty much entered into some crappy phases in terms of their development. Loren is smack in the middle of being a teen, everything bothers him and most of us are usually in his way simply by breathing in the same space as him. Cassidy is just cresting puberty and our mere presence is enough to disgust her tender senses. So their thank yous are most often said with eye rolls and sighs. The content is usually something along the lines of, “Ummmm, ” as he/she looks longingly at their food and must come up with just one nice thought to share with the fools who dare to sit at the table, “technology. Cuz it’s good and all.” Devon loves this ritual and practically wiggles with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy until it his turn and he cries out, “Mai-Mai! I am thank you for you, Mai-Mai because you are my favorite.” This only brings more eye rolls from his older siblings, but it signals that we are done with the whole grateful thing and everybody can begin eating.
This is where the bitching part of my post comes in to play because at this point in the dinner I can feel my mother’s disapproval deep down to the cellular level of my being. Watching/listening to my older kids act like shits as they are forced to give thanks grates on her nerves something fierce. I get it, it’s definitely not the best part of my day. But the force of her disgust unnerves me. Sometimes I can get over it but other times, like tonight, I can’t hack it. This evening after the older two had been brats she gave her thanks and then tossed in something along the lines of, “It would have been passive aggressive to say what I was really thinking, so I won’t” To which I said, “By saying that you have already been passive aggressive. Rising above means realizing the situation for what it is and then moving on because you either can or should.” And what I was thinking but didn’t say, “Do you remember all the family dinners from when I was a kid? The ones where my brother hurled obscenities at the rest of us just because we were there? Or the times when I ran from the table screaming because I couldn’t even stand the sight of other people? Do you remember these times? Because if you did you might not be so quick to judge. So put your judgment back in your pocket and save it for another day.” But I didn’t say this. Instead I walked away from the table and sat outside on the deck in the 40 degree wind. The more the wind howled against my back, the better I felt. s if by sitting there and feeling the air pelt against my body I was somehow stronger than the family drama playing out at the table. After a bit I got too cold and felt too silly to sit out in the elements and went inside to do the dishes. The children asked me to return to the table but I just couldn’t face it. Not tonight. Scrubbing the pots and pans was far preferable to sitting with my family.
I’m surprised that someone would hate the fact that children would not want to sit and tell what things they are happy for, regardless of their ages. They’re kids, they’re not always going to want to do these things.
I always think that if someone is really judgemental, they have issues within themselves and probably not the other people involved. They just have to put that judgment on others because they don’t want to deal with their own feelings.