I am a bad person

I made my mother cry.

More than cry, I think. She had already been crying when she called me. Probably had been crying off and on since yesterday evening when she spoke to the eldest. Eldest encouraged mother to have Christmas lunch with her husbands family when she visits.

So ... she was fragile when she called anyway.

Mother reacted to the above encouragement to come to Sister-with-three-children's home for the ceremonial opening of the presents, adjourn to Italian Sister-in-law's home (who loves cooking and dinner parties, but never gets to have them very often and who would die with pleasure to have company for Christmas) for lunch; then go have a nap in the privacy of her hotel room before coming back to one of the sister's places for dinner and drinks by deciding to mother me.

She keeps trying to buy things for me. Big things. Like a new scooter or pay for private health cover etc for me. But mother doesn't do gifts. These are all things that I would be in debt to her for. It's always something I would need to pay back. If I let her do one thing it will snowball until it gets back to her trying to get me to move back in with her again, so she can drag me about like I am a teacup Chihuahua in a handbag.

I girded my loins. I was calm. I was firm. I said no thank you. I didn't want to do anything like that until I had a permanent job. She talked over me. I said no thank you. She said don't be stupid-I'm your mother-why can't I do this for you. I said I'd rather not. She said but Why?! I said I'd rather not. She said but why? I said, I am not going to fight with you about this - I would rather not. There may have been a few more but whys. No is not a word I attempt to say to her very often because she just doesn't hear it. I am easily railroaded.

The silence was deafening. It was like I'd stabbed her. She sounded so broken when she choked out "i have to go now" and hung-up.

It was 7:30 pm. I didn't even drink this time, which is a more usual reaction to chats with mother. I just went to bed and pulled the blanket over my head like I used to when I was hiding from the monsters in the cupboard.

Today I cannot help but ponder upon what will happen next. One possiblity is that she is going to not come at Christmas. If she does come, it will not be a happy Christmas.

I am not sure I remember what a happy Christmas is like.