Being a mother is the most wonderful job in the world, but being a daughter may well be the hardest. I am in a place in my life where I can relate (not agree) to my own mother. It has been a long, hard, twisted, and bumpy road but I am learning to understand this strange creature that brought me into this world. By now you are all well aware of PNM and all of her antics. While I was once again visiting (stalking) my therapist I realized there is so much more to the story I must share. So go on have a good laugh, because she is my mother not yours!
Am I Hungry? Well That Depends … Are You Buying?
It is always the same story with Purple. I go a few weeks without seeing her, and then out of guilt (sheer stupidity) I invite her to coffee or lunch to catch-up (be tortured) on life’s happenings. Here is the routine: I must always drive, because PNM believes that I am a taxi service, her overpriced import car is unreliable, and it’s not safe to drive in water of any form. The restaurant is, of course, her choice, as I am unable to make any decisions without first clearing it with Purple (control freak). By the time we arrive I have lost my appetite, patience, and my self-esteem. Purple must also pick where we sit. After making the waitress cry, ordering everything “on the side,” returning her plate at least twice, and a manager’s visit to our booth, the ticket arrives at our table. Purple becomes all of a sudden over taken by the “ticket blindness phenomenon.” It is something Purple has been infected with all her life. There is no cure. She also suffers from the great medical mystery, “Oh I seem to have left my wallet at home” and “I am out of checks”. After I pay and over-tip (keep the waitress from attacking Purple) the wait staff applauds as I take PNM to the car. The whole way home Purple complains about how bad the service was, how small the portions were, and how she will not be returning to that restaurant ever again until that stupid waitress learns the meaning of extra dressing!
Baggy Pants, Are We in Compton?
Purple Nama Monster never ventures far from her natural territory. She is at home in Nordstrom’s, Bloomingdale’s, and Macy’s, among her people (other snooty bitches that act like they have money). Purple becomes restless and fearful when she is approached by those with a varying idea of fashion (baggy pants). In PNM’s world anyone with baggy pants is in a gang with a criminal record. Purple tells me, “You know they wear those big pants so they can hide guns in them!” If someone wearing baggy pants waves or nodes at her Purple says, “Did you see that he was showing his gang signs to me?” This will make PNM scared and she will recede to the jewelry section at Macy’s looking through all the watches and key chains for a pocket knife to defend herself from the violent gang wars that are about to break out in the men’s show department. PNM finds a large Dooney and Bourke bag to shield herself with, an ice pick from the Ralph Lauren housewares department, she flashes her colors (purple teeth), and heads off to the men’s shoe department to defend her turf. She has once again defeated the gang bangers and kept Macy’s safe for all the rich old hags to spend their husband’s money!
I Can’t Eat That—I Have Diabetes! What’s for Dessert?
Occasionally I feel the urge to be humiliated and abused in my own home in front of others. When this feeling arises, I invite Purple and her boyfriend (toddler) over for dinner. I must first call and clear the menu with PNM and her toddler boyfriend before I start cooking. The toddler will not eat carrots, squash, pumpkin, lima beans, or turkey. Purple must make sure his food does not contain these items. Purple has diabetes so it is imperative that the menu be approved by her physician (bartender) before consumption. The phone call goes like this, “Mom would you and Mark (toddler) like to come over for dinner?” Purple responds, “That depends on what you are making?” I say, “Homemade vegetable beef stew and cornbread.” Purple says, “Are you going to put potatoes in it? I have to watch my blood sugar.” I say, “Yes,” Purple tells me, “I can’t eat cornbread. You know carbs are sugar. I don’t know. I will have to ask Mark, I will call you back.” Fifteen minutes later the phone rings and Purple asks, “Are you going to put carrots in it? You know Mark (toddler) does not like carrots.” I say, “Yes, Mom, there will be carrots in the stew.” Purple responds, “Well I guess. Do you have anything to drink?” Which is PNM’s way of asking may I drink three bottles of your wine, get drunk, complain about your food, not help clean-up, and then leave without saying thank you! I spend hours preparing the stew and cornbread, only to watch Purple and the toddler make piles of potatoes and carrots in their bowls, and listen to the constant complaining about how high her blood sugar will be tomorrow because of my stew. After dinner (pure hell) Purple is opening her second bottle of my wine and she asks me, “What’s for dessert?”
Simon Says, “It’s Time To Leave, So Get Your Ass Up and Let’s Go!”
Since Purple had her toddler (boyfriend) she is on a very strict schedule. As all of you mother’s know toddlers are demanding and require a huge portion of your time. Often times toddlers interrupt parties and dinners because they need to be the center of attention (have yucky vegetables removed from their stew). Often times a toddler will throw a huge fit to get attention and you must exit immediately to keep the scene from escalating. Purple’s toddler loves to play games with her. His favorite game is Simon Says. Simon says in the middle of a four-year-old’s birthday party, “Marceal, it’s time to go.” Simon says right after dinner before dessert “Marceal, it’s getting late.” Simon says in the middle of watching a movie, “Well, let’s go Marceal.” This is a game that you can not win. The toddler is in control and even if he does not say, “Simon says,” Purple jumps as fast as she can to get the toddler in his car seat, give him a bottle, and rush him home to get him in his jama’s and put him night-night in his crib.
Purple Is Putting the Fun Back in “Dysfunctional.” Did You See Dr.Phil Today?
Purple is unaware that there is anything wrong with her (denial). She is under the firm belief that everyone else has the problem. Purple thinks that I am a terrible daughter, and that I need all the help I can get to treat her better. Every week PNM will call and give me a rundown of the show topics on Dr. Phil. If it is an especially imperative show that she feels will benefit me (her) and make me see the error in my ways, she will come to my house and watch it with me (if the toddler allows). I must show Purple gratitude for this great consideration of helping me become a better daughter to her. I must pay close attention, take notes, and agree with all comments that apply to me and the terrible way I have treated PNM. I do this by nodding often, smiling in agreement, and saying, “That applies to me,” everytime Dr. Phil let’s one of his ignorant mother-abusing guests have it! Purple thinks this will help me to see what a wonderful mother she has been, and how terrible I have treated her. To her dismay these attempts have not worked. So PNM yet again storms out of my house, yelling at me, slamming the door, and throws one of her famous Purple Nama monster fits!