Chelsea, my dearest friend, talks to her mom almost every day. Their lives are inter-twined in really beautiful ways. They still laugh and cry together, they go on morning walks together, they have a big Sunday dinner most weeks.

It’s painful to watch.

I’ll be straight-up here. I feel a bit shortchanged. Envious even. I want my mom to like being around me and I know it will never ever happen.

—-

My mother called me last week and asked me to buy a plane ticket for my brother and his entire family so he could come visit. She somehow thinks we’re wealthy, and wants me to fund all the family endeavors. I’ll admit, I do think she ‘likes’ me a bit more because of the supposed money. She thinks that God is smiling on us, so we must be good people. I don’t know how to respond to this.

I tell her I’m happy to help, but I’m more worried about what’s going on with my brother? Why can he suddenly not afford the ticket? Has something happened to them? Did he lose his job? Are they ok? I’m told to stop being so cheap and selfish.

—-

We plan a large family vacation with my parents, all the siblings, and their families. My mother asks what we would like to do while we’re at the cabin. I make a couple of suggestions. My mom kind of snorts. They are apparently wrong. “Those are just ridiculous ideas. I’ve already made this agenda; I just wanted to help you feel like you were a part of the planning. Will you take this list and buy all the stuff for these activities?” I’m then told to stop being so unbending and inflexible.

—-

I’m at my parent’s helping to take care of their home and affairs for them. My mom asks me if I’m upset that I’ve put on so much weight.

—-

My mom calls and actually volunteers to take the kids to the zoo the next day. I tell her I’ll have them all ready to go bright and early. The kids get up early, get dressed and slathered in sunscreen. The appointed time comes and goes. An hour passes. I call my mom to see if everything is alright. “Oh, I decided to work on a sewing project this morning.” My kids are staring at me, waiting to find out when Gammy will be there. I’m told that I need to have more compassion for her needs.

—-

My own teenager randomly wakes me up at 6:00 a.m. one balmy summer morning. “mom, I was thinking about going on a walk. Wanna come?”

My shoes are on in a heartbeat.