This is going to sound awful, but every year, Mother’s Day really irks me. I go through all the damn cards at the store, and there’s so much touchy-feely bullshit: you’re my world; you’re my best friend; everything I learned, I learned from you. Ugh. To be honest, that stuff just doesn’t really apply. Sure, my mother tried hard. She did what she thought was best for us, and I dunno whether culture, generation, or personalities are to blame, but we clashed a lot– then and even now, I don’t feel like we have that much in common regarding experiences, wisdom, and judgement. And on top of that, who are these people who are best friends with their mothers?? I really just don’t get it. So fine, I should just chalk it up like, not applicable, you know? Whatever.

Like I said, I appreciated the effort. So anyhow, I called my mother for the holiday, which she happened to be spending with my relatives in Taiwan. My cousins had just been over visiting me and John in April, and I guess they were commenting to my mother about how beautiful our house and garden was, blah, blah. So I would expect a normal person to just pass along that message. My mother? Instead, she says, “They kept saying how great everything looked… I don’t remember your house and garden being that great. Did you change something from what I saw?” Um, no. I mean, you saw our garden after it was professionally landscaped too. “Oh, well you know the young people in Taiwan, they don’t really own much and they don’t have yards, so maybe they were just impressed because you had green space.” Um, ok.

Ok… I mean, sure, there’s a language barrier in that her English is not that great, but still: the comment is pretty rude, right? And she has a history of making comments in a similar manner– like she’s a love withholder or something. For example, she used to ask to see my wrists. I would hold them out, and she would say, “Your wrists and arms are so thick: when I was your age, I could touch my thumb to pinky around my wrists.” Um yeah mom, I can do that too, see?  “Oh well, your arms look a lot thicker and rougher than mine when I was your age.” Then, she’ll ask me how much I weigh. I’ll tell her, and she’s say: “When I was your age, I weighed 105.” Ok mom, are you trying to tell me I’m overweight??

More recently, I was telling her about how I was finally learning to wear clothes with the proper fit, and she replied, “Yeah, when you first got together with John (20 y/o), you didn’t dress very well.” Um gee mom, do you think it was because you were always 1) either buying me size XL clothes (so I was “comfortable”) or 2) trying to hand me down your own clothes that no longer fit you (and you were a 50 y/o at the time)???

I dunno whether she just lacks manners and polish, or if there’s some weird competitive tiger mom thing going on, but she just really gets under my skin when she talks like this… There are other things. I guess I’m just saying, I can’t really relate to people who click really well with their mothers. I never have, and I don’t really see us connecting well in the future. It’s one of those sad realities of life, I suppose. So yeah, thanks for chatting, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.