A few Thanksgivings ago, my cousin was complaining that she had sold something on eBay but had not yet received the actual payment from the customer, who lived in Turkey. My cousin mentioned sending the customer an email that very morning and then expressed frustration when the customer failed to respond.

Mother: “Well, duh. It’s Thanksgiving. You won’t get an email until tomorrow.”

Me: “Mom, Thanksgiving is an American holiday. They don’t celebrate it in Turkey.”

My mother refused to believe me, and to this day, she still thinks the entire world celebrates Thanksgiving.

I am working as a tour guide, and I am waiting for my tour group to arrive. I can hear some of the early arrivals talking among themselves, including a dad talking to his young son.

Dad: “That’s the White House!”

Me: “No, that’s the Capitol Building.”

Dad: “No, it’s the White House! It’s where the president lives!”

I point down to the Washington Monument.

Me: “No, the White House is down that way, right of the Monument.”

Dad: “That thing? But that thing is tiny!”

Me: “It’s pretty big, but it is small compared to the Capitol Building.”

Dad: “Wait… This is the Capitol Building? That thing I saw them storm on the news?!”

Me: “The very same.”

Dad: *Sizes it up* “I bet I could storm it all by myself.”

Me: “Sir, our tour takes us inside the building.”

Dad: “See? I got inside without even trying!”

I advised him to not “joke” about that incident on the tour. He did not follow my advice and was removed from the tour by security before we even got to the entrance.

CONTENT WARNING: Physical Abuse (Mentioned)

I’m low-contact with my mother, and it’s been lower for the last year.

A year and change ago:

Mom: “Come visit! You haven’t visited in years!”

Me: “The last time I visited, your husband assaulted me.”

Mom: “That was a misunderstanding. He was trying to tell you how much he loves you.”

Me: “He shook me, slapped me twice, and stopped me from leaving until I asked him to hug me, all after screaming at me.”

Mom: “It was a misunderstanding!”

Me: “Besides, I visited in 2019, and it hasn’t been safe since then.”

I make it clear that I will have nothing to do with my stepfather. I’ve been making that clear since 2005 when he beat up my sister.

A few days later:

Mom: “I found a really cute [Rental] on a farm, and there are cute animals and a town with nice restaurants. I’ll take you out to nice restaurants every day. We haven’t gotten to bond in so long. It’ll just be us two, and we will be miles away from [Stepfather].”

Me: “I’ll think about it.”

I decided to go out there. I’m food-insecure and have painful food sensitivities, so I planned to bring food, but Mom talked me out of it, saying we would bake together and eat out every day.

When I arrived, she took me to a residential area.

Mom: “There is just one bed. You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

Me: *Pauses* “Sure. I’m hungry, though. You said we could bake slice-and-bake cookies?”

Mom: “Oh, it turns out there is no oven here… and I don’t have any food. I assumed you would eat on the flight. Will you be okay?”

Me: “Oh… you told me we would get dinner when I landed.”

Mom: “But I’m tired!”

We went to a drive-thru. Every day, we only ate twice a day, at a gas station or at the drive-thru.

Mom: “I’m so excited to show you my favorite breakfast spot!”

This was the gas station. I tried to be positive while hiding from yellow jackets in a stifling car, eating something that would give me stomachaches later.

This was her breakfast spot… because we were five minutes from her house. She kept bringing me to her house to grab things.

The day I was leaving, she promised me we would go get snacks for the long ride across the country. She dragged me along to a doctor’s appointment, and then, we got on the freeway.

Me: “Aren’t we going to the grocery store?”

Mom: “I took you out for breakfast, so I didn’t think you still needed it.”

Me: “You know to ask before changing plans, and you know I have food insecurity.”

Mom: “Well, I don’t know how to find the grocery store now that I’m already here. I don’t want to get off the freeway and then back on.”

She refused to apologize, and she dropped me at the airport six hours before my flight with no food. I couldn’t really afford airport food.

I should have known. Before she moved across the country, I allowed her to drive me four hours to visit her house under the stipulation the stepfather was elsewhere. Not only was he home, but my mother…

Mom: “I thought you could just sleep on the floor.”

Me: “You thought? You thought? I’m disabled. This will hurt me for weeks. How dare you?!”

There was nowhere else to sleep. Then, she refused to drive me back and insisted that my stepfather do it the next morning.

It’s just the audacity gets me. She isn’t poor. She regularly goes on vacations all over the world, more than once a year. There is no reason to bait and switch me like that.

This story reminded me of when I worked for a convenience store for three years back in the early 1980s. Convenience stores are not known for taking care of their employees, and in fact, we once had a situation with our air conditioner as was described by the author of the story I mentioned.

One morning, I was stocking those refillable soda bottles, and one of them exploded in my face.

I called my mother, told her what had happened, and asked her to come to where I was working and take me to the hospital.

Mother: “Oh, no! I don’t have a car!”

Me: “If you can get a ride out here, you can drive my car.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, she was there, dropped off by her friend’s husband. Knowing my mother, if her friend hadn’t had a car, she’d have been knocking on neighborhood doors until she got a ride.

I ended up with a lacerated cornea, and the company paid for all my medical appointments and gave me paid sick leave.

Related:
Whoever Decided That Probably Has A Nice Cool Office…

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Abandonment, Attempted Animal Injury

My mom is never wrong; if she says two plus two equals five, that’s the right answer. I invited my boyfriend over for dinner. He had met my mom numerous times and knew to believe what she says with caution. After dinner, we were all sitting in the living room when my mom brought up a report she saw on Facebook.

Mom: *Reading the story aloud* “‘Sources say the driver opened the passenger side door and pushed the dog out before leaving. Another person at the rest stop took the dog in and is trying to find the person who abandoned the dog in the first place so that the appropriate charges may be pressed.”

Younger Sister: “If I ever see anyone dropping a dog out a car window, I’m gonna be crawling in that window.”

Mom: “[My Name] almost got arrested over a kitten, remember?”

Younger Sister & Me: “What?!”

Boyfriend: “When?”

Me: “That’s what I want to know. Mom, what are you talking about?”

Mom: “Yeah. It was the guy driving, and you went to the gas station—”

Me: “[Younger Sister] saw a guy swerve toward a kitten on the road and followed him to the [Gas Station] on [Street] to tell him off. He went to the bathroom and called the police, who basically told her to mind her business and left.”

Mom: “No, it was [My Name].”

Me: “No, it was [Younger Sister].”

Mom: “No! It was [My Name]!”

This became a whole argument. My mother kept insisting it was me, even though the gas station in question was a small single-location station that only existed right outside my sister’s college, nowhere near our hometown. We all had to agree to disagree because Mom was refusing to admit she was wrong.

My boyfriend eventually made an excuse and left. He didn’t answer my calls or messages for a few days, and then I got this.

Boyfriend: “Look, you’re really nice, but there are clearly huge parts of your history that you are keeping from me. I’m not comfortable being with someone so aggressive, especially if you’re not honest about it. I wish you the best, and I hope you seek anger management.”

I tried to call to explain AGAIN that it wasn’t true, but he had already blocked my number. I showed my mom and my sister the text. My mom still swore up and down that it was me, not my sister. I don’t know if it’s just her usual stubbornness or that mixed with early signs of dementia (Mom just turned fifty), but it is frustrating.