A Road Less Travelled

I once described my mother to Gabrielle as being “Like me, only more so”. I suppose that’s really backwards–I’m like my mother, only somewhat less so–but I’ve been amused at the accuracy this description. A couple of days ago my father was trying to ask her how her headache was and she said, “It’s okay”. No, this didn’t mean her headache was gone or even receding. It just meant that her headache was “okay”. For anyone who has ever tried to dig for the real answer when they ask me a question, now you ‘know who to blame’ (as my father would say). An even better example of my mother came when my father told her to take the electric heater in the kitchen so she wouldn’t be cold. “No, no, you guys keep it here. I’m fine, it’s not cold in there and it’s harder to keep that room warm anyway, so you should keep in here where it will do more good. Besides, I’m doing laundry so the window’s open, and I don’t want to heat the whole outdoors.” I could tell the most logical connection in this speech was that the window had to be open because she was doing laundry. (It turned out I was right; the washer has to drain out the window because there’s a broken pipe.) Still, I could see myself saying exactly the same thing. This is why my mother and I argue over money–we both have a list of reasons why the other person shouldn’t have to pay for whatever it is. “No, no, I can pay for it.” “No, you don’t have to pay for that!” I can’t tell you who wins these arguements, because I’m not sure that either of us have ever really given in. Sometimes they trail off because we eventually forget about the discussion, or end with words such as, “Well, fine then, I’ll sneak the money into your purse when you’re not looking.” or “If I let you pay for this will you at least let me pay for______”. Here’s a suggestion: If you’re ever in a room with my mother and me when we start a niceness fight–hide. But hide someplace comfortable; you might be there a while.