“A daughter is a mother's gender partner, her closest ally in the family confederacy, an extension of her self. And mothers are their daughters' role model, their biological and emotional road map, the arbiter of all their relationships.” ~Victoria Secunda
El Madre came down for meetings yesterday. Approximately two hours of meetings and one hour chasing me down
There was a miscommunication and she felt bad that she almost missed lunch but my anger was somewhat assuaged when she mentioned Raku and since I’ve had this insatiable craving for sushi as of late (Note to self: DO NOT get pregnant. Ever) I grumpily accepted her accord only to begin crying over salmon and avocado maki.
We’re talking deep tears here, people. The kind that have been waiting to make an appearance at some arbitrary time wholly unconducive to my life or schedule. She petted me and suddenly turned into full on ‘I’m going to kick those motherfucker’s respective asses’ mode. The woman who once shuddered at the thought of having her own children, felt protective and said she didn’t realize that I had been that upset. Not that I’ve been at all surreptitious about my misgivings on every facet of my sad and pathetic existence as of late. Clearly the phrase “I’m seriously going to lay in front of a bus on
But no matter. Tears were shed. Mothers show up at the perfect time and are equipped with rational behavior. They become understanding and equally as upset and frustrated. They can impart knowledge that despite the ‘take a number’ mentality, soon all will be right with the world.
And permission is granted and money shelled for random vacation sprees and a much needed sugar cane scrub*.
*that was for you, Marci.