Post written but not published from Thursday am:
Yesterday, Jennifer and I had a little squabble. Ok, it might have been more than a squabble – it might have been more like a clash. Or a crash. She shows her concern for me by trying to strong-arm me into doing things that she thinks are best. I feel like a child when she uses that mommy-voice on me… I don’t even think she knows she’s doing it, but it makes me twitch and immediately reach for the most obstinate response I can find.
This week has progressed as follows:
MONDAY: Jennifer says “Sarah, I really think you need to get out of the house.”
And then she suggests that we have “family night” in Townville this Friday. Great. Having dinner at the House of Death. I can’t wait. Thanks for giving me something to look forward to all week.
And then she invites me to Walmart. I HATE Walmart, even when I’m not feeling like an anti-social freak. She is completely aware of my abiding hatred for Walmart. It’s a mass of nasty-ass people and I try to avoid it at all costs. So why, WHY would I want to accompany her to Walmart just for fun?! She got annoyed. And then I felt guilty. And then I felt angry that I felt guilty.
And then she invites me to Tom’s baseball game. Now I love Tom (Tom, please know that I care for you immensely) and I even like baseball. But not right now. Not this week. So I quickly rack my brain for an excuse –
Me: But Jennifer, I have a Dr Jerry appt tonight.
Jennifer: Ok, I’ll just wait until your appt is over.
Me: But Bobby didn’t get home until after 10 last night, and I want to
visit with him.
Jennifer: Ok, Bobby can come to the game with us.
Me: Ok, I’m out of excuses. I just don’t want to go.
And she gets annoyed again. Except instead of being silently annoyed like she was on Tuesday, she’s vocally annoyed. Tells me that it was ok for me to be reclusive for the first week, but now I need to snap out of it.
I know that she didn’t deserve the things I said to her. I know that my anger wasn’t at her as much as at the situation…. Anger that God allowed first my mother to die, and now my baby. Anger that I have an appt with an infertility doctor on Monday – WHY can’t I just get pregnant like everyone else? WHY can’t anything be easy?! Anger that I’m the oldest daughter, but she managed to have the first (and only) grandbaby – the only one that Mama was here to meet. Anger that she wants me to spend time with her just for the sake of “getting out of the house,” yet when I’m with her, she doesn’t mention the baby or the miscarriage or anything that matters at all… it’s like she’s pretending that none of it happened and we’re just two normal sisters hanging out in the normal world.