The house is quiet. It’s 11:30 and I’m tired, but not sleepy. So here I am. Blogging. Lucky you.

It was a busy day today. Spent some time with friends. Drank lots of coffee at Starbucks. Made poodle skirts for my kids. Cleaned my whole downstairs. But morning didn’t start off great.

I came downstairs and got coffee. Like normal. Then sat down to read my email. My mom wrote me this morning to thank me for her Mother’s Day Package. I sent her a Micro Cooker from Pampered Chef she had been wanting. She thanked me for that. She thanked me for the mousepad and notecards the kids made. Those were acknowledged. But the scrapbook I made of her grandchildren? That I spent HOURS on and was really beautiful? Not a mention.

I remember as a child my mom not putting up my artwork. I remember her not wearing the tacky jewelry I bought her. And now still at age 38, I am still marveling at her abilty to cut me down to the quick. My first reaction of course was outrage. The thought “I will never make that woman another thing in my life” crossed through my mind more then once.

Then I progressed to hurt. Really hurt. I don’t think I spent enough time with the hurt actually. Today was busy with making poodle skirts and all. (and I made Emma’s twice so… really… it was a very busy day!)

Now I’m just sort of numb. I talked with my sister about it. She basically wasn’t much help because she all but called me an idiot for expecting a different reaction from our mother. So there wasn’t really much comfort there either.

Emma heard me talking about it with John this morning. She said to me “Gramma didn’t thank you for the scrapbook?” I said “ nope”. She said “Oh wow mom, you’d never do that to us.”

Is it wrong that I want my mother to know that her 9 year old grandchild recognizes her mothering short-comings?

But did I mention the beautiful poodle skirts?

Amazingly, I didn’t over eat through my hurt. So I figure I’ve progressed a lot or I am so detached that it’s not effecting me. I think it’s progress through because if I was detached I wouldn’t be writing about it.

Tonight John took the kids to the Sock Hop at school. I’m burned out on school activities and have had such a busy week… this seemed like a good opportunity for Daddy time. So I stayed home. And what did I do you ask? I cleaned.

Yet another sign that perhaps something is bothering me. But I didn’t eat.

Two good things did happen today. Two people said it looked like I lost weight. I consider that a minor miracle actually. Did you know that when I lost 100 lbs there were still people who wouldn’t say “wow… you’ve lost weight!” I finally figured out that people don’t like to recognize weight loss in really fat people. It makes them uncomfortable to have to admit they actually were paying attention to how fat you were all along. So I always make an effort to recognize fat loss achievements in fellow fatties.

I’m kind that way.

Anyway… After I cleaned, I took a shower. And it was really a hot one. And then I laid down in my bed to read my new Oprah Magazine. But I fell asleep. For about 25 minutes. But it was a hard sleep.

Did I tell you I took a Yoga class the other day? (Bonnie are you reading this?!) It was good. It was challenging. I could still feel the workout today. Deep tissue. Made me recognize muscles I didn’t know existed way back there in in my back. Anyway… I think it really helped me to sleep better. Next week I’m supposed to go with a friend to a yoga place in Seattle that is more spiritual focused. I liked that yoga slowed me down and made me more present. It took more mental focus then I expected.

So now my downstairs is clean. But I still have three loads of laundry to fold. But now at least I can enjoy my weekend. I can’t stand when my house is so messy that I can’t enjoy myself. It’s like I can’t give myself permission to do things for me without order in my house. Weird huh? It’s a touch OCD… but it works for me.

You know, if my kids acted like my mother with regards to a gift… I’d give them a consequence. What do you do to a 59 year old woman though?

I can’t change her. I can’t make her value things I create. My mom has made tremendous progress this year in being more “feeling” and yet today she showed me just how far a road we still have to go.

I won’t be telling my mother about the beautiful poodle skirts I made the girls today I guess.


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