My mom is gone...
Sep. 9th, 2004 10:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
la_rainetteMy mom left yesterday evening. We took her to the airport, and on our way, we laughed a lot - it's the best way to avoid heartbreak - as we remembered the many pets I had as a child.
When I was about 8, I had a couple of parakeets. I had seen pretty pictures of little kids parading around with parakeets on their hands, and everyone had exclaimed about their cuteness, so perdiodically I left them out of their cage, in the off hope that they would choose to land on my hand and stroke my cheek softly with their beaks. They never did, of course.
Instead they'd take off in a flurry of wings, panick and crap all over the place.
When I think about it, my parents were unbelievably patient with me: they never once scolded me for letting the blasted things out. Instead, my dad helped capture the birds, and my mom would scrape the droppings off the furniture.
What I remember most vividly is my dignified if slightly slouching and definitely balding 55-year-old dad, all 6 feet 3 of him, standing there and waiting patiently for the birds to settle somewhere, then taking in the scene and lifting his right hand, in which he was holding a cap, aiming...
Dad: Now. Turn the lights off.
Mom *turns light off*
Ka-BAM!
Dad: OW!
flap-flap-flap-flap-flap-flap *indignant squeak indicating birds are still on the loose*flap-flap-flap-spatter of crap-flap-flap-flap
Dad: Turn the lights on! THE LIGHTS! ON! ON!
Repeat until Dad is thoroughly bruised, the furniture is seriously dirty, and the birds are so exhausted they go into their cage by themselves.
And then we had another couple of birds, of another species, and too small and fast to ever be allowed out (I was older, too), and the male was horribly abusive and used to pull the female's feathers off. And the day she died, we found him standing by her dead body, singing his most beautiful and happy sound.
My mom hated him. :D
After that, we gave up on birds altogether, the dirty, heartless bastards.
We arrived in time at the airport, had a coffee (the girls had wonderful smoothies, that they generously shared with us), and when my mom went through the security gates she was caught with a nail clipper, despite careful warnings by Husband, who was flabbergasted to find out that she had forgotten a deadly utensil in her purse again. I wasn't entirely surprised, because I know my mom. Also, she is making tremendous progress: last year, she was caught with 3 (three) pairs of nail scissors. The security officer was very unpleasant to her afterwards, convinced as he was that she must be a hardened criminal to carry that many weapons of mass destruction with her.
Froglet had a complete meltdown when we waved my mom good-bye. She cried and cried and cried. She said again that she didn't want to grow up, because she doesn't want to have to go on a plane to come see us. *sighs*
I miss my mom, and I am sad, especially when I think that another year may go by before I see her again. And at the same time, I am happy to have my own space again. Does that make sense?
When I lived in France, I didn't live close to her, (I lived in Paris, which is 500 kms away from the town where she lives. In the US or in Canada, it sounds ridiculously close, but Europeans see it differently), and I wouldn't see her often, or for long periods of time. When I do the maths, it's obvious that I see her more now that I am so far away: once a year, but for one whole month.
On the other hand, I can't just take the car and drive over to my mom's. It all takes rigorous planning now. That's the toughest part, really: knowing that I can't just go there on a whim.
On the other hand, the computer is all mine again, now. My Precioussssss.
When I was about 8, I had a couple of parakeets. I had seen pretty pictures of little kids parading around with parakeets on their hands, and everyone had exclaimed about their cuteness, so perdiodically I left them out of their cage, in the off hope that they would choose to land on my hand and stroke my cheek softly with their beaks. They never did, of course.
Instead they'd take off in a flurry of wings, panick and crap all over the place.
When I think about it, my parents were unbelievably patient with me: they never once scolded me for letting the blasted things out. Instead, my dad helped capture the birds, and my mom would scrape the droppings off the furniture.
What I remember most vividly is my dignified if slightly slouching and definitely balding 55-year-old dad, all 6 feet 3 of him, standing there and waiting patiently for the birds to settle somewhere, then taking in the scene and lifting his right hand, in which he was holding a cap, aiming...
Dad: Now. Turn the lights off.
Mom *turns light off*
Ka-BAM!
Dad: OW!
flap-flap-flap-flap-flap-flap *indignant squeak indicating birds are still on the loose*flap-flap-flap-spatter of crap-flap-flap-flap
Dad: Turn the lights on! THE LIGHTS! ON! ON!
Repeat until Dad is thoroughly bruised, the furniture is seriously dirty, and the birds are so exhausted they go into their cage by themselves.
And then we had another couple of birds, of another species, and too small and fast to ever be allowed out (I was older, too), and the male was horribly abusive and used to pull the female's feathers off. And the day she died, we found him standing by her dead body, singing his most beautiful and happy sound.
My mom hated him. :D
After that, we gave up on birds altogether, the dirty, heartless bastards.
We arrived in time at the airport, had a coffee (the girls had wonderful smoothies, that they generously shared with us), and when my mom went through the security gates she was caught with a nail clipper, despite careful warnings by Husband, who was flabbergasted to find out that she had forgotten a deadly utensil in her purse again. I wasn't entirely surprised, because I know my mom. Also, she is making tremendous progress: last year, she was caught with 3 (three) pairs of nail scissors. The security officer was very unpleasant to her afterwards, convinced as he was that she must be a hardened criminal to carry that many weapons of mass destruction with her.
Froglet had a complete meltdown when we waved my mom good-bye. She cried and cried and cried. She said again that she didn't want to grow up, because she doesn't want to have to go on a plane to come see us. *sighs*
I miss my mom, and I am sad, especially when I think that another year may go by before I see her again. And at the same time, I am happy to have my own space again. Does that make sense?
When I lived in France, I didn't live close to her, (I lived in Paris, which is 500 kms away from the town where she lives. In the US or in Canada, it sounds ridiculously close, but Europeans see it differently), and I wouldn't see her often, or for long periods of time. When I do the maths, it's obvious that I see her more now that I am so far away: once a year, but for one whole month.
On the other hand, I can't just take the car and drive over to my mom's. It all takes rigorous planning now. That's the toughest part, really: knowing that I can't just go there on a whim.
On the other hand, the computer is all mine again, now. My Precioussssss.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 04:28 pm (UTC)Ourseesss, our owns: Precioussss!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 07:21 pm (UTC)preciousssscomputer?You sound like you haven't been doing too well lately, are things OK for you? How is the new friendship shaping up, with the lovely new neighbour?
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 09:02 pm (UTC)Friend is fine, but differences make our best-friendship not possible. She is too passive, but makes a fine mommie-friend. Everything else OK, but busybusybusy, you understand.
On a random note, where was the chocolate?
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 09:28 pm (UTC)Am glad to know you're OK and just very busy :D
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 04:53 pm (UTC)No! That's right... I've never even said the word "quidditch" out loud for that matter.
In less snarkyness... I am eying you online in Y!M any wondering if Mom's departure means our near daily chats can resume. It's good to have you back. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 07:23 pm (UTC)Did you have a good lunch? Am rushing off now for it is time to get Froglet... But (best Governator voice) I'll be back.
It's good to be back, too.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 07:06 pm (UTC)It's hard to be a grown-up. I think Froglet might be right. *grin*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 07:24 pm (UTC)It's funny, when I was little I couldn't wait to grow up. But Froglet is not at all in a hurry. Smart girl :D
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Date: 2004-09-09 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 11:05 pm (UTC)I love this image.
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Date: 2004-09-10 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-10 05:09 am (UTC)yes it would be.
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Date: 2004-09-09 09:14 pm (UTC)OH NO! I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE JUST MISSED AN "E" That might cost them the gold medal, you know? Oh, what a disaster!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-10 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 07:51 pm (UTC)But the bird story - hilarious! I detest birds, i feel they are the spawn of Satan. *shudders*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 08:19 pm (UTC)I think it's even harder on my mom, because my dad's dead, so she's going home to an empty house... And it's terrible, in a way, because as much as I love her I do have my issues with her, such as, she counts the points, all the time: she has to know that she is seeing her grand-kids as often as my in-laws, and that is SO HARD to manage. I mean, up to a point living far away from the family did make things easier for us, as well as harder. Does that make any sense?
no subject
Date: 2004-09-10 12:17 am (UTC)*hugs* you are a very good daughter :D
no subject
Date: 2004-09-10 02:05 pm (UTC)