A couple months ago, my uncle had a complete hip replacement. He knew it was coming up, and so he prepped his home to get ready for his limited mobility. He arranged for my cousin to bring him to the hospital, a neighbor friend to pick him up and stay with him the first night, and for most foods to be extremely simple and easy to prepare so that he’d stay well nourished. Our whole family has known that he would have this major surgery, but my parents only knew because my cousin and aunt told them. They never acknowledged to my uncle that they knew about it, and they never talked to him about it, nor did they ever offer to come visit him, bring him food, even drop off something nice for him. It sounded pretty petty and sad, especially since about eight years ago, not only did my uncle visit my dad in the hospital after his bypass surgery, but he also came to the house to visit him and dropped off a few things that would make his life a little easier during his recovery. Given the lifelong feuds between them, my uncle never had to do any of those things, but he was at least trying to be the bigger person.

I thought about all this stupid sibling feuding today because my aunt sent me a video of visiting my uncle at his home. My cousin and his wife went to visit, too. And I thought to myself, why can’t my parents just for once, try to be decent people and not live a “quid pro quo” life, and just do the right thing? In this case, if they actually visited him, it WOULD be quid pro quo because he actually visited my dad twice after his surgery! In my parents’ eyes, they are eternally perfect and can do no wrong; everyone else has wronged them. They are always the victims. It really doesn’t make any sense.

Another reason I was thinking about this was because since Kaia’s birth, I’ve thought a lot more about my reason for being and in general, my own mortality. And holding grudges and just having a negative outlook on life, especially in the latter half of your life, are just so draining. I wonder if they ever wonder why they are so miserable and seem to have no where to go, figuratively. I wonder if they ever think about how they could improve their lives with the means that they have, or if they just accept it as though “that’s just life.”

I knew coming back to San Francisco with the baby would be annoying. I just didn’t really think about exactly how it would be annoying in the weeks leading up to the trip. I had already asked one of my best friends if I could borrow her kid’s Pack and Play, which was sitting in storage unused at her mom’s place in anticipation of baby number 2. This would give Kaia a safe place to sleep at my parents’ place. I already told my mom that I’d arranged this, but she didn’t listen. She claims that her “friend” is giving her a “like brand new” crib, plus a high chair. She wouldn’t share the name of this friend, nor how or why this person had a high chair or crib to begin with. That’s how I knew that these were both sourced from a random Craigslist person. My dad is addicted to Craigslist and getting free crap off of it. It’s like his one hobby that he actually follows through on because he rarely follows through on doing anything he says he will.

She called late last week, telling me to disregard my friend’s Pack and Play. “Tell her you don’t need it anymore,” she insisted. “This one is better. It’s like brand new. You can’t trust Rebecca. How do you know she kept hers clean?”

Seriously? She’s going to trust a random person off Craigslist over my best friend? I tried hard to remember what I learned from the Maturity Awareness Approach in the Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents book: 1) express, then let go, 2) manage, don’t engage. I calmly told her that I had already arranged to borrow my friend’s Pack and Play, and that we were still going to use it. She’s my best friend, and I trust her to keep things clean, especially things she’s allowing my baby to borrow. My mom denied this was true and tried to fight me on it, but I kept my cool and simply restated what I already said.. We are going to use the Pack and Play… in the exact same words. I was not going to engage with her bullshit.

“You don’t want the highchair?” my mom said, trying to change the subject.

“We are talking about the crib,” I said to her in a monotone. “We do not need your crib.”

“Okay, you’re in a bad mood right now, so we don’t have to talk,” she said, clearly mad. And then she hung up.

The truth was that I didn’t even get worked up. Was it annoying? Of course. But because I already expected her to try to exert control, I didn’t feel any need to change her mind or engage her and felt pretty calm the whole time. This is my baby, and my baby is going to have what I want for her, not what her deranged grandmother wants for her.

I have one Jehovah’s Witness friend in my mom’s congregation who I communicate with occasionally throughout the year, mostly through email and occasionally over text. She’s always been a kind, thoughtful, intelligent person who I’ve had a lot of interesting conversations with. My mom doesn’t like her or her family, and I’m sure the primary reason is because she is Black. A while back, I believe she had a conflict with this person’s dad, who was an elder in the congregation, and since then, she wants nothing to do with this family other than cordial greetings. Once, she didn’t want me to meet up with this person when I was in town because she was 100% certain this person was going to poison and kill me. Yes, I realize that was probably a sign my mom was mentally ill, but I didn’t really need that extreme example to realize that.

So I called her today after about a month of not really talking at all. I know she was staying away because she knew Chris’s parents were here on and off, but I didn’t tell her what days specifically to keep her on her toes. She has her friend there and put me on speaker phone (how lovely). She makes annoying comments about how when I come home, she wants all of us to have dinner together (no thanks). And then she says, “I just want you to know that I tried to show a photo of Kaia to (this person’s husband), and he said, ‘I don’t need to see it. I already see so many photos of Kaia that Yvonne sends to (this friend).”

My mom exaggerates the negative when she talks about people she doesn’t like. What I am sure happened, which I confirmed with my friend, is that her husband likely said that he had already seen photos of the baby through my friend that I sent. My mom, in her mentally unstable state, interpreted the meaning to be “I don’t need to see photos.” And even if he did say that, I don’t care. Why is this such a big deal??

My mom went on to say that I should only share photos and videos with people “who really care.” Let’s also keep in mind… the last time I sent photos of the baby to this friend was over 3 months ago, and I hardly inundate anyone who isn’t the grandparents or my best friend with images of the baby. I recognize that not everyone is going to gush over my baby the way I do (yes, believe it or not… I have some level of self awareness).

The littlest and most benign things upset and make my mother angry. And the worst part? I still get so exacerbated by her constant barrage of bullshit that I always react and say something. I’m sure it is because part of me wishes that one day, just one day, she will have a normal reaction to a normal thing. And that part of me always ends up extremely disappointed to hear her make a big deal out of yet another nothing situation. These problems should not even BE problems. They should be non-issues that no one even talks about!

American Father’s Day is today. Given my own dad is socially inept and awkward, he rarely calls me. I cannot even remember the last time he called me. I’ve stopped calling him directly since it’s always so awkward, and he doesn’t even say hello to me when he answers the phone and realizes it’s me. He’ll usually just say, “Yeah? What do you want?” Does that sound rude? Yes. But to him, that’s just a normal response (but I can only imagine how HE would react if I responded to HIM that way if he were to call). Instead, I’ll send a gift and if it’s running late, I’ll text or email him to let him know, plus a Happy Father’s Day wish.

So I did that today, and he responded right away by saying thanks, and, “Please wish Chris a happy Father’s Day, too.” Interesting. He never messaged to wish me a happy Mother’s Day last month, but he wishes indirectly a happy Father’s Day to his son-in-law? With my dad, everything is always a response, never something he initiates. It always has to be a quid pro quo thing with the other person initiating it, otherwise he will never be the first to do anything. And well, he can’t really wish me a happy mother’s day in response because no one is going to wish him a happy mother’s day.

People always say that you should spend time with your parents now while they’re here because once they’re gone, you’ll have regrets. So occasionally, I wonder if I will have regrets that I did not call to initiate conversation with my dad more often. But when I think about it, I honestly do not believe I will. Who wants to sit in an awkward conversation, especially one that starts as rudely as “What do you want?” The worst part about all this is that my dad never thinks he’s wrong, and my mom always fiercely defends him on the stupidest and most egregious things he’s said and done. I’m grateful that I always had a roof over my head and food on the table to eat, but when it comes to a real, loving, unconditional relationship, that was definitely never there with my dad, and even less so between my dad and his son. It’s partly why Father’s Day as a holiday to me is a pretty meh day.

I call my mom about once every two weeks now. Since the baby’s arrival, this frequency is probably the most that I can tolerate while still being sane. I recently found out that my uncle, my dad’s brother, had to have hip surgery; one hip had to be completely replaced. My cousin drove him to the hospital while a neighbor picked him up and offered to stay overnight with him to help him out since he’d have limited mobility. My parents have known about the hip surgery this entire time but never called or suggested they come over to visit or help. I knew this would be the case: my dad has a terrible relationship with his one living brother, and he holds grudges against him from their high school days. But eight years ago, when my dad had his heart surgery, my uncle was kind and visited him twice, once in the hospital and once at home. Nine years ago, when my brother died, he took my dad out to eat for his birthday the week after the funeral. He seemingly tried to forge some kind of relationship, but my dad is so socially awkward and blind that he couldn’t see that.

My mom was aware of the surgery, so she asked me about it. I asked her why she had to ask me when she could just call or text him herself. She got pretty angry and basically went off on a tangent, ranting about almost all the things my uncle has done that have been rude or mean or taken advantage of her and my dad. For a while, I just zoned out and did my work as she vented. I’d heard most of these stories before multiple times, but she loves to repeat herself and show she’s always the victim. I don’t doubt the truth in any of these stories, but I also don’t see a reason to constantly talk about the past. It wouldn’t hurt to drop off a single meal for his brother, but I know my dad wouldn’t do it. Grudges run deep with both my parents; forgiveness is not something they believe in.

I never suggested they bring something, though. But she got angry at me and said I’m asking too much to ask her to bring something for him.

“Ummm, do you hear anything that I say on the phone? I never asked you to do anything,” I said, while rolling my eyes internally.

“Oh, you didn’t?” my mom responded. “Well, you should forgive me! I’m disabled!!”

That sounded a bit facetious and sarcastic at the same time, but I let it go.

My mom wasn’t happy about the fact we were planning to hire a nanny. She kept saying over and over that “your own blood” takes care of your baby the best. When I asked if she was suggesting that I quit my job, she told me she didn’t want that, but what other option would there have been…? When she found out we finally hired one, she immediately asked me what the nanny’s race was. When I told my mom she was Jamaican, my mom responded, “Does that mean she’s Black?” She said the world “Black” in a near whisper. Why do Asian people of her generation always do that?

I told her to stop being so racist and that there was nothing wrong with Black people, or specifically, having a Black nanny. I told her we obviously vetted this person through not only references but also a trial, so we knew she’d be a good fit for us. My mom was nervous and completely unconvinced. It wasn’t until two weeks passed when she felt more at ease… after I let her know that Kaia greets our nanny with a smile each morning when she walks in.

“Can you send me a picture of what the nanny looks like?” my mom asked. “I want to see how dark she is…. I mean, what she looks like.”

“WHAT?” I responded, incredulously. “What is wrong with you? It doesn’t matter how light or dark skinned someone is, and who cares what she looks like if she’s getting the job done?!!!”

“It’s a reasonable request,” my mom insisted. “I just want to see what the nanny looks like. She takes care of my granddaughter all day, so I have a right to know what she looks like. I’m not prejudiced. I’m a Jehovah’s Witness. Jehovah’s Witnesses cannot be prejudiced.”

Uh-huh. Sure, they can’t.