Orange juice

So, my mom called tonight to let me know that I did something to hurt her terribly on the Friday before I left. She was hurt so badly that she has thought about it every day since I have left. It’s been five weeks now.

Apparently, that day, she asked me to bring a glass of orange juice to my dad in the bedroom. He wasn’t in the bedroom when I got there, so I figured I’d give it to him when he came back upstairs from the basement.

Supposedly, I’d already set out a glass of orange juice on the dining room table for Chris when he got back from work that afternoon, so it was there waiting for him.

My mom asked why I brought the glass of juice for my dad into the kitchen. I said he was rummaging through stuff downstairs and I’d give him the orange juice when he came back up. She snapped at me, took the glass downstairs, and gave it to him.

Clearly, what I have proven to my mother through this incident is that I care about Chris more than my dad because I had a glass out for him already (I don’t remember this and doubt its validity… especially since I distinctly remember pouring him a glass after he arrived), and I wouldn’t go downstairs to the basement (that you can’t even safely walk through without tripping over something) to give my dad his juice.

“You care about this boy who isn’t even your husband yet more than your own father; your father does EVERYTHING for you!”¬†she yelled today. “You’re supposed to put your parents first before everyone! You hurt me so much that day that you don’t even realize!”

I think the term “hypersensitive” and “overreactive” are terms that don’t even begin to encompass what my mother is.

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