You Never Listen To Me!

I have been a mother for over four decades now, and I have to say--it does NOT get easier.

I have grown up people call me up and ask for advise they never take. Never. I've gotten to the point where I give bad advise so they'll do the opposite and get it right. Even if I don't get credit, I don't have to hear them whine about how it all would have been fine if only they had listened to me.

Do I mind if they gloat a little and say that they made the better decision? Nope. I got my way, even if they don't realize it. (Usually, they do understand the dynamics that led to them doing something right, and I get the credit in the long run.)

Why am I going on and on about this?

Right now, at this very minute, I am furious with my daughters.

We're not talking a little pissed off. We're not talking disappointed. We are talking straight FURIOUS.

The fact that I'm in this state at all makes me mad on another level, because I generally do not do furious. I rarely even do angry. I'm likely to stick with annoyed in most cases.

Knowing this, you should be greatly surprised and concerned that my mad level has reached the boiling point. It's rare as hen's teeth, and it was completely avoidable.

They're sick.

I want to be sympathetic.

Okay, I am. I'm sorry they're sick. I want them to feel better. I want them well.

I want to just be worried. (Not angry!)

Okay, I AM worried--and I DON'T want to be, because...

This didn't have to happen!!

And that's why I'm so damned mad.

I told them.

And they didn't listen to me!

Get that lyric? "The Plague!!"

No, I never tried to lock them in a tower, but maybe I should have. Maybe the evil witch had a point. Maybe that would have kept them safe.

I said, "Get the vaccine."

I said, "What are you waiting for? It's free!"

I said, "Did you get your shot yet?"

And did they listen?

No!

Finally, I threatened them: "If you want to visit Grandma, you have to be vaccinated."

"Fine, fine," they said.

And then?

Did they race out and get the vaccination?

No. They put it off. Thanksgiving is still a couple of months away, after all. What's the rush?

Now they're sick.

They call and say, "Oh God, I feel awful! *cough, cough, hack!*"

They say, "I've never felt so bad in my life! *groan, moan*"

And then: "If only I'd listened to you!"

Grrrrr!

I know, I know, I'm a mean mom. I'm so mean that when they tell me how they're feeling, I get this awful, horrible impulse to say, "I told you so!"

(I admit it--I said it out loud a couple of times. Because--damn it! I DID tell them so!)

So Covid-19 has reared its ugly head and struck--THWAP! That snake has bitten, and my daughters are sick, and I'm scared and worried and praying for good outcomes.

But--since I am a horrible person, apparently--I am so damned mad at them right now.

And you know what? I'll get over it. I won't stay mad long.

But will they get over this? What are the long-term ramifications? Is there such a thing as a full recovery?

At this very minute I am calming down. But my throat is raw and my voice is raspy because I'm an asthmatic and the air around my area is currently full of smoke and particulates from fires burning hundreds of miles away. And I'm thinking, if I feel this bad, and my chest is this tight from the effects of fires burning in another state, they're certainly miserable with a virus living in their own bodies.

And I'm not unsympathetic. I have suffered through pneumonia more than once, and I know what it's like to be so sick it seems impossible to get up long enough to pee.

Okay, I'm not mad anymore.

Now I'm just scared.

Why don't they listen to me?

My old drama teacher dubbed me "Mother Earth" when I was only fourteen.

It stuck. So...

Wash your hands. Practice Social Distancing. Wear your damn mask.

Get vaccinated!

Listen to your Mother.

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Be well.