I'll Just Chalk it up to a Lesson Learned

My mother finally called me back yesterday. I waited and waited, and knew if I ran to the grocery store, she'd call then. I ran and she called. I confronted her on betraying my confidence and it suddenly became all about her. "I don't remember exactly what I said." "I didn't say anything wrong." "I didn't tell her what you told me, just that you told me. I don't see anything wrong with that." Oh okay, so that suddenly makes everything all better.

We went round and round, with me reminding her that I asked her not to say anything, to just pretend she didn't even know what I was telling her, and with her giving me one of the three statements from above. And then -- the reason I dread calling my mother out on anything -- she started to cry. Because again, this needed to be all about her and me feeling guilty for being a bad daughter.

In the end, she gave me a half-hearted apology with no admission of guilt, and I just gave up. I told her, "forget it, you don't understand, let's just drop it."

And so a beautiful September Sunday in Ithaca was ruined because I got "franned."

Tell me again why I moved back into the state of New York? Oh yea, so I can realize that I really wasn't homesick, that I really don't need to live near my family, that three or four times a year is plenty of times to see them. Hmmmm...that's an expensive lesson, that's for sure.