i sometimes forget, in my distaste (to put it lightly), for my mother that there is, after all, something good and bad i get from her. this something is a thing i've mistakenly passed onto my daughters. i say mistakenly because it's something i suffer for, lol.
my mother was the most impatient woman in the world. she would wait for "her man" to notice that something manly needed doing. if he didn't notice it, she'd mention it off handedly, and if it didn't get done within a reasonable amount of time (like immediately if not sooner) she would do it herself. in the most pissed off and humiliatingly (to her man) manner possible. whatever the job was, raking leaves, fixing holes in the wall, laying carpet, tearing down a garage, she would get it done with whatever tools were at hand. hammers, screwdrivers, duct tape, her six kids, whatever it took she did it. once she got started she absolutely DID NOT want him underfoot. he was extraneous flesh at that point, useless. she taught us not to tolerate weakness, laziness, shiftlessness, in ourselves. if there's work to be done, get up and do it because no one else is gonna do it for you. lol
we kids took a BEATING in the work department, that's for sure. we learned the limitless uses of duct tape. the girls learned there wasn't a damn thing a man could do that a woman couldn't do at least as well, if not better, given the time and tools. we learned that we didn't need a man to take care of us, although that was what was expected of us anyway, to marry and produce children, and be obedient, subservient wives. as time went on we just became this, bull-workers. this is what we do.
today, i'm out in the yard, cleaning it. i told joe i didn't want his help at all, because he works so hard at wally world and he doesn't need to be doing this too. so i'm out their tossing trash, moving logs, moving lawn furniture, pulling tarps, bull work. i'll pay for it later, i'll have to use ice, and the tens unit, and the shoulder is gonna be screaming. but THIS is the thing my mother taught me and it just happens almost without even thinking about it. and what do my daughters do? not a thing.
they know that i won't ask for help. they know i don't really want or need it. they know even if i need a glass of water, i'll come in and get it myself, because deep inside i still (even now) have a little streak of my mothers Martyr Complex. GAG!!!!!!! and i work this hard just to suffer and say to my husband, "see what i did because you couldn't...wouldn't".
the very worst thing about this is that my daughters will do this very same thing to their spouses. my mother, no matter how long i stay away, no matter how soon she passes or how long she's gone, will live on forever. what a terrible thought.
dw~
