I’ll try being nicer if you try being smarter!

I only speak to my mom every few months. Well, every several months really. I think few implies far too short a time period between calls. It’s more like several. And then some. Whatever. I speak to my dad somewhat more often, through secretive phone calls always made from work and never mentioned to the maternal unit.

So maybe a year ago I was speaking to her only to find out that while she had flown down to the southern USA to visit my brother at school and stopped in Chicago on the way up to see distant relatives, they had also been in Toronto for a day. Unbeknownst to me. You know, their first born, their only daughter. That they hadn’t seen in like, 6 months at that point.

Let’s qualify this atrocity. First, a few years ago I was very sick. So sick I was suicidal (not like emo-kid suicidal, really fucking wanted to die suicidal). I called my mom once out of absolute desperation at 4 in the morning her time, before escorting myself to the hospital (the boyfriend was away for work). She knew this and at no point offered to come out and stay with me.
I later found out that my brother had stubbed his toe. I don’t know all the details, but he got it cut and it got infected and it was doing some nasty shit to his toe. The reason she couldn’t fly out to see me? WELL. Because she had offered my brother that she’d fly down to help him out with his FUCKING TOE and therefore, my death wishes were obviously secondary. I mean, what if his toe fell off? He’d only have nine left. Whereas I, with my abundant lives (what is this, a video game?) would be fine, no doubt. It’s sort of parallel to our respective 16th birthday gifts. I got $40. He got a $6,000 car. I shit you not.

In the 8 years I have lived in Ontario, they have visited twice. And once was for my university convocation, which I didn’t even want to go to. I begged them not to fly in for that, cuz I really didn’t see the big deal of walking across the stage while someone mispronounced my name and I grabbed a piece of paper. Woo. Fun times. While here, they refused to leave their hotel room. Cuz you know, who wants to see Toronto as a tourist? There’s certainly nothing better to do here than sit in a hotel room, I guess.

So I was kind of miffed, but not at all surprised when I found out they had been in my fair city and not informed me of this. I called them on it, and they mumbled something here or there and that quarterly phone call eventually ended.

Then.

Then I learned something.

Kids, be careful what you wish for.

Apparently, in approximately one month, my parents will be in Toronto. This time, they heeded my complaints and INFORMED me of it. They will be at the airport for five hours. And I’m expected to be there. I shrugged it off the first time I heard about it at Christmas, but when I phoned my dad for his bday, I was reminded of it again and I think I’m truly expected to take my ass out to the airport to sit with them for five hours.

The first thing I did when I realized this was a serious situation? I told the boyfriend I was finally getting retribution for all of his family’s dinners and gettogethers, arguments and celebrations I have sat through. His family only lives 40 minutes away, as opposed to my family’s two time-zone buffer.

The look of terror in his eyes was priceless. Price. Less. He narrowed his eyes slightly and said, ‘They’re coming.’ All matter of fact. Like, from a horror movie the way a kid would say, ‘They’re coming’ when referring to the army of undeads behind them. He knows. Ohhhh, he knows. He’s been witness to the joy that IS me and my mommy interacting.

There is NO way he’s getting out of this one. Oh no. I have sat through too many holiday dinners not to be owed this one airport visit.

I have started my countdown. It’s about a month. I’m scared. My plan is to drink heavily. Maybe a few pre-visit drinks and then a few drinks at the airport, to maintain my buzzed apathy.

I should have kept my big mouth shut. This could be disastrous.

Coincidentally? Today, I sold one of the gifts they gave me for Christmas. They shipped it to my work and I hadn’t taken it home yet. It was still wrapped. So when a client asked if we had one particular item, and I knew that there was a new, wrapped one sitting at the front, why wouldn’t I have sold it to her at 100% profit?

I think that might make me the worst daughter in the world. But hey, I guess the acorn doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

Back to my original point. Be careful what you wish for. I wished they would have told me when they were gracing Toronto’s presence. And now they have. And I should have just bit my tongue.  Dammit Talea.

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Comments on: "Be Careful What You Wish For…" (13)

  1. I’m sorry you and your parents have such a strained relationship. Seriously, it sounds awful.

    It’s going to probably be a long month of dread before they arrive, but you can always hope that your brother gets a splinter or something, right before they come.

    Meh, you win some, you lose some. Some ppl have good relationships with the ‘rents, others move far far away from one another.
    Maybe I can buy off one of his friends to accidentally trip him on the stairs or something, that is a GENIUS idea, miss moonbeam.

  2. Now, I bet you’d rather have those $40… right?

    Sorry you’re the odd girl out in your family scenario, that just sucks ass. You might wanna go easy on the drinking, otherwise you could become a punchline at family gatherings: “She couldn’t stay sober for a mere 5 hour visit”, am I right, am I right. I hope I’m not right.

    Lol, coincidentally I got $40 for the Christmas gift I sold! So in a way, it’s from the ‘rents.
    And dude, my mom is the punchline at family gatherings. My family would be totally fine with my wino tendencies. Though my dad might be frightened if he ever saw me drunk….

  3. I just spent the past day of work reading your entire blog– thanks to lumpy’s blog roll.
    Thanks-I giggled and enjoyed myself all the way through it

    Awwww, thanks Amy! Sometimes I do that too at work. Read my whole blog. Ha.
    Sadly, I’m not joking.

  4. Maybe you should stub your toe on the way to the airport?

    You’ll get through it fine, Talea. Just like you did at Christmas. But hey, this is only 5 hours .. You can do it. keep the alkihall handy, and you’ll be fine!

    Oh! And my dad’ll probably pick up the tab too! I’ll just order a whole damned bottle.
    And thank you Red, cuz I really am bothered by this, but you’re right….I did make it through Christmas.

  5. You poor little monkey.

    I don’t know about up there (Canada), but down here (USA) you’re not aloud to go down where the planes are taking off unless you have a ticket (post 9/11).

    If the same applies there, maybe they won’t want to leave the terminal for a visit, and you won’t be able to join them. Might be worth looking into. Maybe?

    I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, hoping you find a way out. Good luck. 😉 Sounds like a horrible situation. Sorry. 😦

  6. I wish I had some words of wisdom for you. I’m sorry you are treated like an outcast. It certainly isn’t right. I can tell you are a wonderful person 🙂 and they suck for treating you like you aren’t!

  7. Your mother is a cow-faced whore of a bitch and if I ever meet her I will spit in her face. No humour, no wittiness, I just seriously hate her slimy guts.

    That is all.

  8. queenbitch said:

    Wow… That sucks. It really does.
    Definitely becareful for what you wish for!
    perhaps you should do something fun after you’ve spent five hours with them???

  9. Fuck that shit, what a horrid lump of coal you got handed in that long past emergency room of your birth. I dislike her vicariously now. If you get drunk enough, you might even be able to completely express all these years of pent up aggression, and not even remember it. If it makes you feel any better … fuck that shit, nothing I say is gonna make you feel better. Sounds like your dad needs to grow some balls and put that woman of his in check. Try not to think about it much. It’s like getting a shot, a five hour shot of marital poison. Just don’t think about it and it won’t hurt. Of course that’s what they say about ripping off band aids really quick and jumping in cold water, and none of those are true.

    Sorry, I suck at consoling people.

  10. LOL at Josh’s “consoling” 🙂 ….well I won’t be able to do much better on that front, but I agree on the pre-drunkenness call, and also while you’re in that state, maybe go to an airport gift shop and buy yourself a neck-pillow or a “Toronto” “shot glass”…I don’t know in what universe that advice would help, I just like going to gift shops so I can feel like I’m on vacation….alright then.

  11. Whoah Nellie! Families…. I can’t speak ill of your mother because after all, that’s your mom – your blood. However, may I suggest taking a xanax about 1/2 hour before meeting them and follow it down with a stiff drink. This is how I survive my family gatherings. I’m not sorry about it either. It gets me by.

  12. Emerald said:

    Ha, Christmas was four milligrams of Ativan and half a bottle of Baileys. At 10am. Yeah…families.

  13. […] Due to me and my stupid big mouth, I was expected to show up and visit. If you don’t remember how this came about, want a refresher or have never read my blog but are already so intrigued by my life you want to know every boring detail, click here. […]

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