Mr A Gets Promoted!

At First I didn’t actually see it this way – a promotion. It took Susi and I chatting about the situation and chuckling of at the madness of it all to realise that it is, indeed some kind of a promotion i guess!

Remember how aaaagggeeesss ago i mentioned how a male family member came to Perth to visit? Remember how I mentioned how mum has high hopes for said guy and then all hopes were dashed when both people’s personalities conflicted? Well; when he left Australia he had left some of his luggage here and had asked that we send it back to him. “We” became ‘MY’ job and my mum cut all sort of responsibility on grounds that since they had had an argument that clearly the responsibility would be mine. And so (yet again) i sucked it up and dealt with it.

I told him that I would more than happy to send his (22kg of) luggage once he had transferred me some money – I mean, didn’t get me wrong here; I have no problems sending 1, 2, 5, or even up to 10kg worth of luggage but aft3er a few quick quotes online I discovered that sending 22kg worth of luggage was hardly cheap… plus i have a house to pay for (does anyone realise that porcelain slab tiles are NOT cheap?)

So after nearly a YEAR later – yes, nearly a year the guy transfers me some money – far be it for me to tell him that since the start of financial year that the cost of sending said items would be increased. Whatever; I was just happy to have it off my hands (and not have to hear anymore about it from my mum… again and again… and again!).

Everything was organised through Discount Excess Luggage – yes it is some shameless advertising but the man was really great (for more details head to http://www.discountexcessbaggage.com.au/) and the prices were really competitive! The plan was that he would pick up said item from my mum’s place; weigh item, call me and I would give him my credit card details. What actually happened was that he went to pick up said item and mum would not take any of the paperwork from him?

The poor guy had no idea what to do – i spoke to my mum later and apparently the rationale in her mind was that as NONE of it was her responsibility that she would not take ANY of the paperwork. That this man HAD to give me the paperwork – she told the poor guy where i worked and said that he should drop it off to me!

When the guy (his name was Laurie by the way) said “you can give it to your daughter when you see her” apparently she said a few things – mum told me that she had told him that i do not always come home and that sometimes i sleep at my friends house!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I told her that she KNEW that I most definitely was not staying with a “friend” and that I am staying with my in-laws and my husband she went onto say “no – I tell him you sometimes stay with your friend; what for I make bad my daughter’s name? I not want to tell him that you won’t come home to see your mother”

I mean let’s just be serious here for a second – as IF the Caucasian man is seriously caring what I do with my life and where I am living! I mean – WHO would he gossip this ‘vital’ tid-bit of information to??? If anything, her behaviour has probably made him go “yep, I’d be living with my friend too sweetie!!!”

Anyway; although at first I was a little frustrated, annoyed and flabbergasted by her incessant denial Susi and I realised that in some twisted way she had finally acknowledged Mr A’s existence as being something more than (how she affectionately refers to him as) ‘Satan’.

And it only took us this long!

Another 3 years and he’ll be my boyfriend/fiancé!

The way to a daughter’s heart….

My mum is trying to lure me over to her place with promises of delectable sweets….

When is enough enough?

So I think this afternoon is it – mum has been back since Sunday and although I haven’t seen her since then I have gotten to the point where I have no idea where else to go to from here.

I drove home from mum’s place and had to have a little stop off at the end of a (and dark) quiet cul-de-sac so I could have a little cry. I don’t even really know how to explain it all – maybe its because I haven’t had to deal with her antics for the last 4 and a bit months, or maybe its because I am PMSing or perhaps its just I have gotten to the end of my tether… but I don’t think I can talk to her anymore.

It just seems so selfish – that I am meant to do things for her, take her to appointments, fill out forms for her, buy things for her, run errands for her and essentially be the husband… AS LONG AS I DON’T talk about what’s happening in my life. Its not even a case where I just don’t mention Mr A; its knowing that I get judged for everything; knowing that everything I could say will be under such intense scrutiny that I just don’t say anything at all… so that at the end of the day our conversations revolve around her and I am baffled that she doesn’t even seem to ask about what is happening in my life?

It’s mum’s birthday on new years eve and Mr A and I discussed that it was seriously about time she acknowledged that we – the 3 of us were a family. And that maybe we could all go out to dinner at a place my mum would like… The Prophet in Victoria Park. Now if I had my way I would just turn up on the evening of said birthday dinner with Mr A in tow and pick up mum and see if there are any explosions and then go from there. But Mr A thought that that wasn’t fair – that I should tell my mum what we are doing.

So today my mum called me and told me that I had to come over before Zumba class and fill in some forms for her. She didn’t ask – she just told me that they needed to be returned tomorrow so she would need to be there sometime tonight. Anyway; since I had her on the phone and I was remembering that I seriously needed to book a table I mentioned her birthday:

Me: Since I have you on the phone mum, I want to talk to you about dinner for your birthday? The 2 of us were thinking we could go to The Prophet? Just the 3 of us?

Mum: I am not talking to you bout this anymore – remember when you talk his name to me at your Aunty’s house? You know I feel down then; because you talk about him I fall down. I don’t want to go anywhere with anyone I’m not agree with. I don’t want to talk about anyone I’m not agreeing with.

Me: You can’t be like this all the time mum – this is mad! We’re a family!

Mum: no – only 2 people in this family; me and you!

Me: mum, I know that me and you are a family; but now he’s part of my family – so he’s part of your family.

Mum: no – we talk abut this when you come fill in the form for me.

Me: fine – and we WILL talk about it mum. I am tired of the way you are acting about this and if you want to be like this after tonight – after we talk about this; then after I fill in the forms I’m not going to talk to you or see you for awhile. I can’t keep doing this mum, I’m serious here.

And that’s it… I guess we’ll see what happens then. But I will say that I mean every word of it… I just don’t see any other option… the irony is the reason that I kept holding onto for SO long was because Mr A kept telling me to go back, keeps telling me to call her, keeps telling me to try again… ironic isn’t it? That she can’t STAND the thought of hearing his name and yet he is the very reason why I keep some pretence of communication with her!

PS> I do NOT think my mum fell based on hearing me mention Mr A’s name – if she had I am certain my aunt would have called to see what on earth I had said to her!

At the airport

Waiting for mum’s plane to land.

It arrives in 40 minutes…

Nervous & anxious

Wondering if its too late to jump on a plane outta here… Bali’s cheap – I could buy new clothes? I speak the language… i know where i’d stay?

This is actually really shocking – i am beyond anxious…. to see my own mother? Gee – doesn’t that seem like a healthy realtionship?

Poor Mr A just wishes we could all get along… i told him to stop being like John Lennon – i mean lets just look how successful he was at that wish?

Oh well – i suppose everyone has o have one shit crap maddening dysfunctional downfall in their life… nothing’s perfect…

Oh for goodness sake’s – lets just call a spade a spade shall we – this is crap; i wish she was still away; she will never want to understand this and i seriously just can NOT be bother with her antics any more.

There… i said it… what do you think the success rate would be if i told her a mildly, seemingly more appropriate version of that?

*sigh*

feeling troubled….

In the last 2-ish weeks or maybe that’s 3 actually I have to admit that I have been infected by the bug that is Zumba. I am loving it – maybe not LOVING it when I am in the middle of it (when I am huffing and puffing and sore and hot the last word that comes to mind is love. In fact, truth be told I am anxiously awaiting for the hour to be over!) but when its all over and I am on the way home and i’ve gotten my breath back I feel engerised and happy and satisfied with myself that I am getting into shape.

My lust for Zuma is so high right now that I am going between 2 to 3 times per week… madness isn’t it? But last night I must admit something – I ditched zumba.

Why? Because I was feeling down. Because my mum gets back this Sunday. Because I am at a point where I have no idea where to go from here (in relation to her). That I am beyond the point of trying – that I just want it (or me) to just be able to go away. That because as fast as I know she will walk through the arrival’s lounge I want to get her straight back into the departures lounge.

And I am thinking about it constantly now. And I am hating myself for all of this. Hating my thoughts, disliking that the only relationship I have with my mum is dysfunctional (at best).

Hating that I love her with all my heart but that I don’t like her.

Just wanting to pick her up – not say a word. Take her home and her into the house and then walk out. And go to where I feel at home which is not there.

Quick Update!

Some photos to be uploaded this weekend (yay!). I have decided that it is MUCH overdue and have to keep you all interested!

ALSO: my mum returns in 10 days… *sigh*

How to have a REAL conversation

A few days ago (3 days ago) I spoke to my mum… or should I say “spoke”. It started off with me calling her whilst on my way home from work; Mr A was driving and so I thought I’d call her to touch base – I thought I’d write about it so you can see just how beyond insane this has all become:

So I am calling her – she picks up and I say salam to her and ask if she is ok as her voice sounds tired; she was having a nap and I have awoken her. I ask her if she wants to go back to her nap and I will call her later; she declines.

She then tells me about the place she went to that day; about how she went to do the final Tawaaf to demonstrate the end of her Haj (for the people that don’t know she’s at Haj/Pilgrimage in Makah). She then tells me about what happened to her the day before yesterday and how she bought something the other day that has been forgotten in the Taxi that now she will never get back; she tells me that Insha-Allah this will be a blessing. Mum then tells me about where her and a friend of hers went to last night; what they had for dinner and how she is wondering if she could call Mr M’s mum and dad when she gets back to Jeddah and that she has decided that she will call them as they are still family even though she is less than impressed with the behaviour that Mr M demonstrated back in the day!

During this entire conversation the only thing that I am saying is actually “yes”, “uh-huh” and “yeah”. No time during this conversation does she ask about me and what on earth I am doing…. Then after a good solid 9 minutes (I know because I had checked the timer on my mobile) she asks me how my day was:

Mum: how was your day? Were you at work?

Me: yes, I was at work – my day was not too bad actually; I am just on the way home from work now –

Mum then goes on to tell me about her plans over the next couple days; a few other things that she had actually already previously told me and to make sure that the house was ok. She told me a few other things; about how my cousin had called her from Qatar (he lives in Doha) and that he had not spoken to me for some time. I can start to hear that she beginning to run out of things to say and that she’s slowing down – she reminds me how she was having a nap before I called her.

So I say to her (once I find a pause) “ok then – I suppose I’ll let you go so you can rest. Inshallah I will call you again in the next 2 days or so. Stay safe and I will talk to you then. Yes of course I love you. See you”

That’s it. That was a 22 minute call that really, lets be honest here – nothing REALLY was said. Amd that’s the way we are – that’s the way we’ve been for SO long now – i don’t even know how we got this way… what is even more frustrating is that in most cases i am NOT one to NOT talk – i’m the conversationalist – i could literally talk your pants off… ok; maybe not literally but you get my drift!

I am astounded – I find it a profoundly interestly and yet disturbing thought that my mum seems to think that this type of ‘conversing’ is fine; that she would much rather talk about nothing than mention his name; than have us have a REAL conversation. And heaven help me if i TRY to commence something that might actually help to rebuild our relationship – heck no; better to leave it broken and ailing then to create anything worth any substance!

ugh – so these are my conversations with my mum. Nothing ness – nothing real, nothing to ‘hurt’ her, nothing that will (as she puts it) “kill her” but really all we ARE doing is killing any possible chance of us getting anywhere.

Any thoughts? Because in all honesty i am at a loss as to where to go from here – and lets be honest here; i have tried and tried and TRIED many, MANY a time that in essence i too have grown tired and short of giving her EVERYTHING she wants i decided that in this – to simply not have any really conversation with her is actually the easiest thing for me to do. I can see though how much distance it creates though – especially now when i see how Mr A’s mum and i get along… but i suppose it could be worse…

It could always be worse… couldn’t it?

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