More and more I am inclined to think that love for relatives, even close ones, is measured in kilometers.
In my childhood and youth my relations with my parents were not the warmest. There were quarrels, recriminations, and scandals. No, I did not go out late at night, I did not drink or smoke, I just did not take my parents’ words as the ultimate truth. And that always annoyed them.
My parents were probably no authority for me since I realized as a child that they never kept their word, what was promised was never done, but if promised to them and it was not done, then there was an outcry from Jericho. My father was more reserved, but as they say, he and my mother found each other. It was also about something important and even the little things in life. It was important to my parents to have it the way they wanted it, not the way I liked it. In order to do that, they would cheat, saying, “Now you give in to us, and we’ll do this or that, okay?” As a child, I was going for it, my parents had promised, but they never kept their part of the agreement, and if reminded, they waved me off or laughed at the fact that I was so gullible. Needless to say, by the time I graduated high school, I didn’t trust my parents a dime a dozen? No, I loved them, and I still love them, but believing, respecting, and listening is not about them.
Even with admission to college, they set a condition: “or you go where we say, or do not pay for school. This was said with the proud look of the benefactors, who are ready to enrich me with tuition, who know everything better in life.
And whether I needed their help, my parents did not even think, piously believing that I myself will not be able to get in? I refused to enroll at the behest of parents, and entered on a budget away from home. Again there were lamentations according to the scenario: “you will live in the dormitory, have a baby in the first year, do not come home, we will not take you. These rude attempts at manipulation continued constantly, so that our communication was reduced to phone calls a couple of times a month and congratulations on holidays.
It’s been many years, I thought that my parents have already realized that they will not be a light in the window for me, and that I will not run to them if there are problems. After all, this is what they wanted, because if I do something wrong, as they wanted, then I’m nobody to them, and to help in case of what they will not with the words: “well, we told you.
Yes, they are strange, but they are my parents, and while they lived far away, we were fine. But as they say, there came trouble from where they were not expecting, I do not know what Mum and Dad did not share, but they decided to an old age divorce. What happened, they do not say, which, by the way, is not like them, usually love to savour the details, and here the silence on the air. Only my grandmother walks around all happy, as if she had a monument erected in her lifetime on the square. She told me not to worry, they’re not going anywhere. Maybe so, but my mother decided to move in with me with beautiful lamentations: “you’re not gonna leave your mother in the street.”
I must say, I have been married for a long time, I have a house, a four-year-old child, and a job. This is the kind of package I need to be completely happy. I’ve been working from home remotely for the past year, so we have no issues with daycare. The child goes part-time, when and full-time, the kindergarten is new, the groups are small, the child is almost never sick, so it was good.
I accepted my mother, there were conditions of residence, which clearly stipulated that she is a guest in the house, and not the mistress, her own order does not impose, my husband is not touched. I am used to her way of behaving, but my husband can not understand it wrong, then there would be problems. In her room, she does what she wants, she wants to make cobwebs, and wants to whitewash daily. The kitchen at will, you want to cook, go ahead, you do not want do not cook. All in all, live and enjoy.
No, we got bored, and my mother began to get on my nerves again, says: “Let me take my grandson from the garden, and you go to the clinic, register me, because I do not understand this. In the evening when I come from the clinic I ask: “Where is my child? The mom’s response, “oh, did you have a hard time getting your car to come pick up your child?” Okay, hushed up, the child is no longer trusted.
Next again: “And let me buy products at the Sunday market, where farmers take out all fresh, and you give me cash and all”. That same Sunday at lunch, I ask: “Where are the groceries?” “Here you are young, an old man sent for such a load, no one thought about my health?” – my mother was offended. Well no, so no, I said: “Where is the money for groceries? Mom with anger: “I’m that these kopecks and still have to give? You are adults, you earn so much, and you demand money from your mother. And there are many more of the same.
My husband and I are people who are responsible for their words, we teach our child the same, and here we have a daily circus show. In general, we could not stand it, under the wringing of hands and theatrical moans, we packed mom’s things and her husband moved her to a rented apartment. We paid the rent, we’re going to return the love with distance.
Is this what people like this need?
