A disjointed entry about my mom.
2006-05-05/1:09 p.m.

My Mom

I have never lived with my mom full time. The closest I came to that was the summer of 94, when I stayed at her place for most of the summer because the McDonald’s by her apartment would hire me before I turned 15. She worked nights and I tended to have a day or evening shift. My most common shift being 2-10pm. We basically didn’t see each other at all. I’d work late, get home around 11 or so, take a shower, watch Conan and go to sleep. It was a routine. If I hadn’t gotten along so well with the people I worked with, this summer would have been hell. But it was actually pretty great, and I bought my sweet 86 cavalier because of it.

Her husband didn’t work at all, but he would go to her job and hang out there all night. That seemed really weird since she was working the night shift at a halfway house for mentally disabled people. But I guess he had nothing better to do. I could also note here that Lorenzo (her husband) isn’t very smart and has a very limited vocabulary, which I always attributed to Spanish being his first language. Then I asked him for help with my Spanish homework once and learned that he knew nothing about Spanish either, just slang of both languages somehow mish-mashed together.

He and my mom have always had a very clingy relationship. I mean, he’d hang out all night at her job just for something to do. I found (and continue to find) it terrifying.

Anyway, due to her never really being around, or being around so infrequently, I have never in my life spent much time with her. And we don’t really like each other, but it’s kind of incidental since we spend maybe 8 hours together a year. And that’s being generous. There have been many years where I have not seen her at all.

My mom is a little bit crazy. Her husband used to be very abusive. He’s dying now so she claims that he’s seen the error of his ways. He also cheated on her. She claims that since I would not forgive these kinds of things that I am “coldhearted” and will “die alone.” She has been married three times, all kind of like this in some way, and yet she keeps doing it. She also told me recently that she’s only been married three times, and that I can’t expect it to be perfect. I tried explaining to her that three marriages is kind of a lot. She does not agree.

Really she is mostly just sad and depressed. She spends all of her time working jobs that pay maybe 8 bucks an hour, then sitting in her apartment with her dying husband. She’s never been on a vacation and probably never will. And although she seems to just want to talk to me on the phone to push my buttons and make me feel bad, I feel pretty badly for her.

So, last month I asked her if she wanted to come to NYC for a weekend and told her that I’d send her a ticket. She was excited at first. But then she said no. She can’t leave Lorenzo because he might die and has no one else. Then she told some other people that Lorenzo told her that she couldn’t come. Either way, it’s too bad.

When I asked her- she said “I don’t know when the last time was that you and me spent time together by ourselves” and I said “I think that’s because it’s never happened.” It’s happened for a few hours here and there, but never for a whole day, or something crazy like an entire weekend. And I am pretty sure that it’s never going to happen. Oh well. I tried.


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