I realize the whining/complaining nature of my last few blogs, and I promise to try to come up with a funny Evy story after this to try to even things out….but first, I have to get this out:
Remember when I wrote that post about all the worry I was having about Gram moving here?
It's coming true.
We got in a big fight about her stuff yesterday. Libby didn't even pack about half of it, so I figured I'd be pretty much in the clear with "treasure” (read junk) sorting. WRONG! Among the things my Grandma was attached to included:
~a grimy pair of moon boot-like gloves from the eighties that left a sticky film on my hand (surrounded by about 30 other pairs)
~enough old crusty (seriously; CRUSTY) Tupperware to give any Tupperware lady a cushy retirement
~4 bins of SWEATSHIRTS (Not including the sweat suits!)
~Junk mail from the year 2000
~About 300 pamphlets. (You know, the kind you get in the line at the grocery story that say stupid things like “Nostrodomus’ greatest prophecies” “How to end worry forever” etc…)
~“Our daily bread;” about every month starting with February 1990
~Four identical knife sets
~For sets of salt and pepper shakers (She can't even use table salt!) one of which she insisted she needed to keep for when she went on a PICNIC (I can hear you laughing now, Libby!)
~A LEFSA turner (I imagine only you Minnesotan’s will know what I’m talking about there) that she needed to keep to “poke her laundry down with”
~NINE BINS FILLED WITH CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS!!! (and my sister only packed about half of it!!!)
And these are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
She’s also started saying things to me like she wishes she was just dead, she’s such a burden, life isn’t worth living without my mom, I’m just throwing away everything she worked so hard for (remember here the junk mail from 2000). She told me she was ignoring me, she wishes she never would’ve moved here, and to take my phone because “who did she have to call anyway”…sigh. It makes me sad even typing it out.
We had a big talk about all of this, and Libby and her talked as well. But please pray. I know this move is difficult for her, but she’s been in a slump for quite a while. Pray that she will see through self pity to truth. That she does have people to live for, that she will settle in, and that she needs to be nicer to people trying to help her.
Oh, and if I ever, EVER get like this when I’m seventy, commit me.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
The Brand New Complain-A-Blog!
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4 comments:
oh min, as depressing as it sounds, the odds are good that you will. (if you are alone) my grandmother is EXACTLY the same way... it was funny talking to you yesterday because it all sounded so much like her. it makes me so sad too, (and other times annoys the crap out of me....)
if you need to:go to coffee, see a movie, vent, need a neutral third party witness, have someone come in to make sandwiches so you can rest for a bit, or anything, GIVE ME A CALL... i am here to help. (but the one thing i can not do is take crusty tupperware off of your hands. i'm sorry.....)
sorry... one more thing. i had to re-read your title about 50 times because i thought it said "the brand new campaign-a-blog" and i could not understand what you were campaigning.... dumb me.
Ok sister, I have an idea. I know how to make this all better. I've been sitting here at work all day and it finally came to me... We can enroll in the witness protection program! I'm helping several federal clients get started right now and boy does it sound like the end of all our troubles! :) Keep smiling, I love you!
p.s. I just want to go on the record as saying that "I don't collect ANYTHING!" That way there is nothing to move around when I'm 70+!
Ouch. I really wish I had some little phrase or pearl of wisdom to share in the 'self pity' arena. The truth is that I've dealt with it through Andy's grandmothers. Grandma Wiberg (his mom's mom) is ruthless and chemically imbalanced (seriously, she's medicated) and the other deliberately sabatoges recipes and compares you to everybody in a negative manner. I called to wish her a happy birthday last week and got "well, at least I made it" response. BLARF!
I just wish I had the seeds to say "you're still alive! you still have time to say what you need to, ACT on the urge to pick up a phone and use it, or send a card to an actual address for a birthday" (How often do you or Lib 'forget' that your mom is gone? I do that a lot with gram.)
Maybe I could call her? (Your grandma that is...)
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