Freudian Slip
Function: noun
Date: 1953
: a slip of the tongue that is motivated by and reveals some unconscious aspect of the mind
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Wednesday, February 09, 2005
"Family is a mixed blessing. You're glad to have one, but it's also like recieving
a life sentence for a crime you didn't commit." - Richard Pryor
When I got back to my Mother's house, she was passed out on the couch; Relieved, I grabbed a blanket and curled up on the loveseat next to my daughters crib. Wishing I could go back to sleep, I layed quietly for a while with my eyes closed, until I heard my mom ask me what time I'd made it in last night; Turning my head to look at her, I realized that she wasn't really awake. Instead of responding, I simply rolled over and waited for her to start snoring again; There was no way I was going to get her to babysit for me again that evening, if she thought that I hadn't come home the night before...
At some point I must have dozed off, because I never heard it ring: My sister was tapping my foot and said my Grandmother was on the phone. Still laying down, I accepted the cordless from her and tucked the reciever against my ear, asking hello. My Grandma wanted me to get up; She said she'd bought some things for my daughter and she had a really late birthday present for me - that I needed to come down and pick it up before her husband got home. Recognizing this as a signal that she'd bought something really nice, and didn't want anyone else in the family to stop by and see it, I sat up from the couch and asked what did she buy? Of course, she refused to give up any secrets and said to just come down, right now, she'd talk to me when I got there.
When I got to her house it was mid-afternoon, my mom's stepfather was going to be home very soon, and as much as I would have liked to have visited with my grandmother, I knew I wasn't going to be able to stay long; My Grandfather is for the most part a very nice man, and I love him, but he and I don't get along; Ever since I'd moved out of my parent's house at 17, he's treated me like the blacksheep of the family, and has went out of his way to let me know this by making snide or rude comments to me whenever we see each other. It's definitely not how I want things to be, but over the years, I've learned that there is no changing his opinions of me, and as much I've gone out of my way to try to win his respect, there is no pleasing him - So I eventually resigned to avoiding the man whenever possible. My Grandmother is fully aware of the fact that I've tried to make ammends with him, and has tried to stand up for me when it comes to him, but this of course backfires, and makes me feel guilty, because it just causes arguments between them which don't stop until I leave...
It was nice to see my Grandma again; Slightly plump, with short white hair and skin paled by age, she was wearing another one of her homemade muumuu's. As much as this sort of dress might have seemed silly on the average person, she has an aura of grace which just overpowers whatever she wears; Maybe it's the crinkling lines of her honest smile which distracts you from the shapeless atire, and demands ones respect, or maybe its just that I know what an incredibly good person she is. I'm not sure, but I hope that when I'm much older, that I turn out just like her. She was sitting behind her kitchen table as always, a sewing maching pushed aside, amidst a ton of fabric, spools of thread, doll clothes and pin cushions; As long as I can remember my grandmother has been incredibly artistic, making, in her spare time, just about anything and everything one might find at a local craft fair. Walking up to give her a kiss, I asked her how she was and then sat down on the other side of the table across from her...
She said she was glad I came down so fast, she'd bought my daughter a bunch of really neat clothes from a consignment shop she'd found and she wanted me to go through them with her. As she got up, I followed her into her bedroom, where she pulled out bags after bags of clothing; My grandmother knows nothing of name-brands, and asked me what I thought of them, and of course, I couldn't help but be suprised; She had obviously bought the most expensive things the shop had to offer, everything was really nice, when I told her this, she sighed in relief - she was hoping that I'd like them. Giving her a hug, I told her it was really nice of her to give my daughter these things, when she brushed me off saying to bring the stuff into the kitchen, she still had to give me my birthday present.
By the time I'd gathered all of the the clothes and brought them into the kitchen, she was sitting behind the table again and pushed an envelope towards me. She said to hurry up and open it because my grandfather would be home soon; Sitting down, I thought maybe it was a gift certificate to a nice restraunt or something, which is her usual M.O. or maybe the twenty bucks she normally gave all us grandkids for our birthday, but inside the card was one of her credit cards. Slightly confused, I thanked her, and then looked at her puzzled. She said, she wanted me to go shopping; She wanted me to go down to the mall, and buy myself some really nice things, on her. Clothes, some shoes, some outfits, and also some suits or things I could wear to job interviews and anything else I needed. At that point, I was almost heartbroken; I told her there was no way I could accept this sort of gift...
Since my first day of Junior High as a kid, I'd been paying for my own things; My step father, had come from a family of seven kids, and not having much when he was young, he learned the hard way how to be independant in life, so when he married my mom, who had me, he thought that the best way to teach me how to care for myself, was to make me do everything on my own. This wasn't easy to deal with while growing up, because none of the other kids at my school, had to mow lawns just to buy new school clothes in September, but I'll admit that in the end, this sort of implied hardship instilled in me, a sort of pride, which demanded that I earn my own keep. The idea that my grandmother would want to buy me things, and spend money on me, without asking me to pay her back, was entirely foreign to my senses, and as much as I knew that this was her way of spoiling me, I was almost hurt by her kind gesture; It was incredibly hard, to have her offer to buy me things, which at that point I couldn't really afford for myself. For most of my life, I'd been making due with whatever I earned, and as far as I was concerned, I had no right to spend her money...
When I tried to explain some of this to my Grandmother, she became angry; I can't say I blame her, because I'm sure that she doesn't offer this sort of gift to just anyone, yet at the same time I just didn't feel right about it. But she wouldn't take no for an answer. She said she'd always hated my step-father, and called him a penny-pinching bastard, telling me that she never understood why he was so selfish about money, and then recanted an incident from my childhood; When I was young, maybe 8 years old, my Grandmother had went out of her way to send me a huge box of new barbies to double as birthday and christmas gifts. It had cost her a shitload of money to ship them all the way to California where my step father was stationed at the time, but when the gifts arrived, my step-dad, instead of giving them to me, took them all but one; The rest he sold at the local P.X. on base, because he felt that if otherwise I'd have been spoiled. My Grandmother said, that she was really angry, because one of the dolls she had sent me was worth over five hundred dollars, and was a collectors item, which she had meant for me to keep until I was older, but my father had sold it for 12 bucks.
Having my Grandmother recant this story, which had already burned itself into my memory years ago, wasn't easy and as she went on talking about all the different times this sort of thing had happened over the years, I didn't really know what to say. At one point, I almost interuppted her, even though I knew it was disrespectful, but she quickly cut me off and told me to listen. She said, that no matter what, I needed to know that she thought of me as one of her kids; She knew it wasn't right to play favorites with her grandchildren, but when my mom had me at thirteen years old, my Grandmother had been the one to raise me. She said that when we my mother got married, and we moved away with my step-father who was in the military, she'd cried every day, because I'd left...
My Grandmother and I were in both in tears at that point; There was nothing I could say, I didn't remember that part of my childhood very well, but what she said had touched a nerve in me. Even in my earliest memories, I'd never really related to my mom as a mother, I'd tried really hard to, but it was next to impossible because we were so close in age; She was just a kid herself and although I'd never told anyone this, I'd always considered my Grandmother my mom, because she was the only person in my family who treated me with common respect, and mothered me in a normal way. She knew how I'd grown up, about my moms mental illness, how screwed my step-father was, and she was the only person in our family who had ever made an effort to keep up with me...
Before, I could tell my Grandmother how I felt, we both heard her husband's truck outside; It was time to go, he would be in the house in about ten minutes, after his routine stop in the garage, and as much as I wanted to stay to talk to her, we both knew it was best that I just leave.
Collecting myself, I told my Grandmother, that I love her and gave her a hug goodbye
As I left through the front door, I heard my Grandfather and the argument begin...
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12:14 pm
