Monthly Archives: November 2013

My Mom: Drama Queen… With the Concrete Memory

I know probably half the people reading this post have a Drama Queen in their family. And half of those “Queens” are you own mothers. We love them dearly, but they get on our nerves, and for those whose mothers travel across the globe once a year to pester us and invade our new lives… We oftentimes can’t wait to put them back on a plane. Our kids hate to see them go, but they just don’t understand, do they? Don’t know them like we know them, huh?

Girl if you only knew. Those kids perhaps know your mothers better than you do, and I surely hope you don’t poison your children’s minds by talking about how nosey and needy Grandma is, or how dramatic she is, or how demanding she can be. Thing is, children appreciate our mothers, sometimes more than we do. My kids? They absolutely *adore* my mother. They start counting down the months before her visits and they terribly lament her departure once she’s gone.

But not as badly as you will; once she’s really gone.

Kids appreciate your mother more than you do because they don’t know the drama. And it’s a good thing. Mothers go through so much, and sometimes they don’t tell us how much they’d endured for you–while other times they browbeat you with it so that you never forget (or is it, so you’ll understand?) We are the Kings and Queens of our households–the bosses, the Dictators, even–for so long, we forget what it’s like to have a mother around, giving us a piece of her mind, telling us what to do, and chastising us the way we chastise our own children. She’s there to remind you of all the things you’d wish she’d forget, to tell you about things you don’t want to hear about for the millionth time. It’s in this Western culture that once we are grown, we almost forget the past, and start new lives. Our forefathers did it when coming here for the first generation. You left “home” behind and became an American. You forget that old Italian culture you left behind, you allow your children to call each other by name instead of titles like “Kuya/Ate”, you cook pot roast and steam your vegetables instead of making those Keftedakia and Greek salads your grandmother taught you. You wear your shoes in the house. You stop buying Kosher food. Your children carry your husband’s bland, American last name. You pronounce your English perfectly. Your kids speak only one language. You waste your food when you’re no longer hungry, instead of using last night’s leftovers to make Ulam or Fried Noodles. Yeah, you forgot–but Mom didn’t, and it drives you nuts.

Something unique about life in the West:  Each generation generally lives better than the last. Especially for those of us born elsewhere on the planet. Our parents sacrifice heavily for us to have a “better” life. They barely got us to adulthood having the essentials, unlike many others who inherit what was left behind by a previous generation. When we had problems doing homework–we turned to another kid because some of our mothers barely spoke English. Mom doesn’t understand this culture and she surely doesn’t understand profession–why is she trying to give me advice? Mom, marriage isn’t like it was when you were younger. I know what I’m doing…

There will come a day that you will sound like your mother. You won’t understand the next generation. But you will know life a little more than your then-grown children will. Like you, they won’t listen either. I hope you won’t ever have this experience:  You stop, you reflect, and you realize that Mom was right. This is what she meant. But unlike right now, you will not be able to pick up the phone and call her to say, “Mom, you’re right. I love you.”

Instead, you will have to wait until the kids are sleep, then close your eyes, and visit her in your dreams to say it.

I have some advice for you. ALL of our mothers are Drama Queens. They ALL went through some great sacrifice to get us where we are today. They were not guaranteed to have done the best job, they may have made a shitload of mistakes. They still might be making mistakes. But she is your mother, and she has cross Hell and highwater to provide for you, to teach you, and everything she has ever done–from missing meals so the kids have enough to eat, to working extra shifts to afford to buy you presents, to marrying another man while she still loved your father just so you’d have a complete, nuclear home to return to from school, to badgering you about why you aren’t married or why she doesn’t think you’re treating your husband or wife well enough–it was ALL done because she wanted the best for you.

Don’t piss that away, just because you are too damned stubborn to shut the hell up and take a little advice and listen to wisdom. If you really appreciated the woman she’s become–like your kids do–you’d honor and hang on to every word she spoke. There will be a day, when she won’t be able to say anything else to you, and all you will have are memories, and regret.

Today’s religious lesson, whether you are Christian, Jewish, Muslim or other:  God tells us to honor our mother and father. He did not put conditions on which mother and father to honor. He didn’t say “honor parents if they were good parents”. Your parents could have been deadbeats, drug addicts, ex-cons, depressed, poor, too busy working to notice, whatever–But we are to honor them the way you’d honor a celebrity who came to your home. Imagine if Oprah came to your house, how would you prepare for that visit? What if a U.S. President gave you advice you didn’t think you needed? Or your favorite actor or singer? Would you argue with them? Some of us would treat a celebrity we have never met with more fanfare than we treat our own parents. That isn’t “honor” at all.

I would name names, because the loved ones I wrote this for read this blog and they probably recommend this to their friends. But you know who you are. Don’t do anything you will one day regret. Don’t wait till your mother is gone before you cherish her.

Thanks for visiting my blog.

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I Want You Back… #regret

I learned to use these #hashtags thingies on Facebook. Cool stuff, huh?

Anyway, periodically–and it never actually stops–one of my exes will call/email/text/send a message through mutual friend(s)… something to the effect of:

I’ve been going thru somethings (sic). I want you back

By the way ^^^ that was a real text. Don’t worry, this particular ex doesn’t read this blog. In fact, she never did; and that was one of the problems in our relationship. Her friends and family read it–but she didn’t have enough interest in me and the things that were important to me to ever read it. And let me tell you something. Through this blog, I have had groupies, fans, crushes, fall in love with me through this blog. My last blog totally endeared my ex to me, she is now a blogger who also takes public speaking engagements–and it began with her reading my work. I had given this ex a copy of my CD (a spoken word CD, if you want it, send $12.00 through Paypal using the “Donate” button on the main page sidebar) and she NEVER listened to it. Imagine that. You’re in love with someone and want to be with them apparently, but you don’t listen to or read their work. And keep in mind, this relationship lasted 18 months. Ain’t nobody that damned busy.

All kinds of signs, and boy can we be stupid. Oh boy can I be stupid. We do see them, don’t we? Just don’t heed them.

But enough about her. This article is about this very real lesson, that many just never learn from. It goes like this:  “The grass is, in fact,  greener on the other side. But only because that guy waters his grass.”

We could have the best thing we ever had; they could be beautiful, a great cook, intelligent, attentive, affectionate, caring, selfless, considerate, sensual, good for the ego, and most of all… They love us. They love our dirty draws, and nothing we do bothers them enough to discard the marriage or relationship. Yet for some strange reason, all we seem to notice is that their gut is getting a little big, her tits aren’t as nice as those the girl at the job has, their feet are crusty, his hair is thinning, her finances are thin… So we long for something–someONE else. Somebody we think is better, somebody more fun, a chick with a fatter booty, a guy with a bigger dick, somebody with a great credit rating. Our loved one is no longer a “loved” one, she now gets on our nerves. He spends too much time at your house, you wish the fool would go home, my favorite show is on. There’s all them cuties on Facebook and Tagged, and they require my attention…

Then one day, the one we love is gone. Yeah, now I’m free to smash. Smash the next door neighbor’s sister who’s been up on it since I moved in. Smash that security guard from the job who keeps buying you lunch. Smash that ex who swears the sex will be a marathon like “that one time”…. Life is good, isn’t it?  😉

It isn’t. At 1 a.m., when that new, exciting fling has gone home–or never spent the night because the newness of YOU wore off (just like the newness of your own ex)–you start to thinking about how badly she loved you. You feel bad about how you guys broke up, how she didn’t deserve it, or how happy he really made you. You think about how the quality of life has actually gone down the pipes because you no longer have someone who would sleep in the rain for you, give you their last dime, or how you were their Superman or Wonder Woman. You realize, like many, many exes:  “I fucked up.”

Yes, you did. You had a good thing and you ruined it. And don’t you dare say “I didn’t know what I had”, asshole. You knew what you had, you just never thought you’d lose it. You thought you could toss it aside, mistreat it, take it for granted, put it on ice–and then go back when you were ready. I’m sorry, life doesn’t work that way. One broken heart turns another. I’ve had my share of breaking hearts, and I’ve paid for it every single time. I’ve had mine broken more than anything, and I have foolishly dismissed playing with others because “After all I’ve been through, I deserve the right to play the heart-breaker this time.” Pure bullshit. That is the lover’s version of Israel’s foreign policy, I get to hurt others because others have hurt me. But like I said, life doesn’t work that way. Get it right the first time, because true love rarely affords you a do-over. Just learn from it, and get it right the next time.

We cheat, we ignore, we abuse mentally/emotionally/physically, we simply take them for granted. In the end, we dispose of a great relationship with someone who loves us deeply in favor of something where love may not even be a factor at all. We aren’t guaranteed to find this level of love again. In fact, if we betrayed our loved one, we probably don’t even deserve another true love. But what the hell do I know? I’m just a guy with 7 failed marriages.

repair a broken heartSo to answer my ex’s question (Mustafa, what do I have to do to get us back like it was before?), which she’d asked many times since we parted ways: Baby, you can’t. My heart is made of very fragile glass and once it breaks you can’t tape it back together with the excuse, the words “I’m sorry.”  Forgiveness is a strong part of relationships, but betrayal is not part of this equation. You can be forgiven, but that doesn’t mean you get to have the same benefits you had before just because you apologized. Murderers apologize, but their crime is permanent, and so is the punishment.

Good luck on your next relationship. Make sure it’s done right the first time.

Thanks for visiting my blog.

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