« So Much to Say, So Little Time | Main | Extreme Sports »
October 21, 2005
That was the week that was
The whole family were supposed to be having Christmas dinner together at a pub up the road so on...
Sunday
...we decided to go and pay the deposit and have our lunch while we were at it. The first awfulness of the day came when we were told the chef had been sacked. "Oh don't worry" they told us, "we have a new chef". Chef wasn't the four letter "C" word we were using by the time we'd finished our miserable cold dinner and decided we weren't parting with a penny.
I should have known it was going to happen...... for the rest of the afternoon, I suffered another session of what appears to be my family's national sport, Liz bashing. Today's subject being my son's inadequacies and my failings as a mother. I've never understood why I endure their venom. It must be some misguided sense of "family". Suffice to say, I came away from the encounter battered and bruised and somewhat inebriated. And that's when the manure really hit the ventillation. I managed to get embroiled in a row with my best friend who now won't speak to me. Can't say I blame him but I woke up ...
Monday
...heartbroken and desperate to talk to him. At the very least I wanted to apologise and explain but he didn't want to know. He did tell me to stop being a victim though. At the time I didn't recognise how valuable that advice was but later, I went down to the beach to talk to the iron men about it. They didn't impart much advice but they did listen.
While I was down there, my son rang and I asked him to come down and meet me. It was his first day on his new job, a real job this time, a trade - with a future. I stood by the pond waiting for him to arrive, being investigated by the geese that winter here. I guess they thought I hadn't been probed enough yet.
Anyway, I had a point.... oh yes. I watched my son for a long time walking across the vast expanse of grass that covers most of Crosby Marina. I could see the spring in his step; the way he held himself; and, when he got close enough, the whiteness of his smile against the filthy mess that was his face. He's taking a shot at his life, he's giving it a go. OK he falls over now and again but isn't that what I'm there for - to pick him up and get him back on his way?
With that picture in my head, I walked back home and told the guys on my site about the whole sorry mess. They were very supportive, full of good advice too. I came away from the conversation determined not to be a victim any more. It may be too late to salvage a wonderful relationships but by the time....
Tuesday
... came around, I was like a different person. My sister phoned that night to (by the way) see how my son was getting on in his new job. I left her in no doubt that he was going to make a go of it; turn himself around and achieve great things; and that I would be there to support him whatever. Even over the phone I could tell she was unsure who she was talking to, this was someone she didn't recognise. And boy did it feel good.
Wednesday and Thursday
... came and went with still no contact, no chance to make amends. I'm not really surprised, this is one time too many I've lost the plot and taken it out on the wrong person. It's a lesson that's taken me too long to learn and the only one who loses out in the end is me, so I guess it's a valuable one. But I'll get over it. For all the wailing and whinging I normally do, I always get over it in the end. No wailing and whinging this time though. Think happy thoughts!
Posted by lilliebet at October 21, 2005 12:08 AM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.deckertechnology.net/mt/mt-tb.cgi/146