Rebecca would rather be a bad daughter than a bad pet-owner.

[rebecca_in_blue]

You know how sometimes churches will sell barbeque dinners to raise money for repairs and what-not? Those things are the way to go. They're cheap, delicious, and they give you a ton of food. I'm always meaning to buy one when I see notices for them in the paper, but I never did until yesterday. I got a styrofoam box full of a huge piece of barbecqued chicken, rice dressing, green beans, cole slaw, a roll, and a Little Debbie cake. And best of all, I didn't barf it all up later!

I've been trying to bathe Sable more often because his skin is a lot worse in the summer. (I'm giving him more fish oil too, which helps a lot.) But yesterday I did the most irresponsible thing. I made him walk all the way from Mom's house to our apartment after his bath. It's only a distance of 0.5 miles, according to Google, so I didn't think it'd be that hard on him, but it was. Even after we got back, he panted for a long time. I felt so bad.

Mom called me yesterday, and our conversation ended in me hanging up on her. I don't know when I've ever been so mad at her. First she wants to know, "Is it hot down there?" I mean, she couldn't ask a more pointless, stupid question if she tried. Nobody needs to ask if it's hot in Louisiana in June, especially not someone who's lived here most of her life. And to top it off, she then raves about how cool it is in North Carolia. She either 1) is purposely trying to piss me off; or 2) is delusional enough to think that she can convince to move up there. File that under never. I'd rather live with Sara in a third-world country than live with Mom in the premier arrondisement of Paris. Or maybe 3) she expects me to whine about the heat for ten solid minutes the way she always did. Dad would say things like, "Hot enough to boil my coffee, or hot enough to fry an egg?" Mom would just say, "It's so bloody hot!" once every thirty seconds.

Then, when I give one-worded answers to all her questions ("So what have you been up to?" - "Nothing.") and don't talk enough for her, she huffs, "Well, I'm sorry if I bothered you." That's when I hung up on her. I'm so tempted to add her number to my phone's automatic-rejection list.

I was so mad that I went for a long bike ride to work off my anger. And I found a five-dollar bill on the sidewalk! I was hot and sweaty by that time, so I bought an icee at a gas station. A gas station is an oasis when you're riding a bike. A place offering air-conditioning and ice cream and icees and popsicles. Speaking of posicles, I filled one of my popsicle molds with pickle juice and it's freezing into a pickle-sickle right now. I still find the idea weird and gross, but who knows, I might actually like it.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Rebecca,
As a mother myself and a daughter I know that mom's can be difficult at times, but it sounds like she just wanted to check up on you. I know sometimes one of my kids just stays on my mind and I want to call and see if they are o.k. Maybe she was just making small talk cause SHE might have been lonely for you or something. At least she calls, I have some girlfriends who would love to have a call from their mother. THe hardest part about being a parent is that you will always love your child more than they will ever love you and you love them so much that you don't even care. And as a mom there is so much guilt that you carry around with you especially if one of your kids is having a difficult time you think back to when you lost your temper or just let things slide with them cause you were worried about some other kid or maybe you were having problems of your own. I didn't care for my mom that much when I was in my teen years, it really wasn't until I had 3 kids that I could get a glimpse of what she had to go through without a microwave. I hope I didn't cross the line with my comments I mean no harm and it really isn't any of my business, you see I am a peacemaker, I can't help myself. How were the picklescicles?

pickle-sickles

[(Anonymous)]

I can't believe you have never eaten a pickle-sickle.I have even eaten those before and you don't know what you are missing. Rebecca,
having been both a daughter and a mother, I can tell you being a mother the hardest.Sometimes I am so lonesome for my kids I just want to hear their voice and I get them on the phone and the first thing I do is start lecturing them.I really don't mean to and get mad at myself when I do it. Must be something in the mother gene. My kids often want to hang up on me, too. Celeste