I feel awful, I really do. Almost to the point of guilt. How could I feel this way? Why am I such a loner when it comes to guests? I've never been a gracious hostess; in fact, I've always been frustrated because I never know how to act as a mannerly hostess, or how to entertain them or what to do. This time, it was the worst it's ever been. Our loft is small, only 1200 square feet, therefore, having any overnight guests—especially beyond one night—is tight. And challenging as well.
My mom had just arrived and because of monetary restrictions, was unable to stay at a hotel during her visit. At first, I loved the idea, but soon realized not long thereafter that it would become disheartening. I hate that she's a few states away and alone since my father's death, so having her visit was an ideal recommendation. Since I've been bugging her to come visit or even sell her house and move here, it was only a matter of time that she would take me up on my offer to come stay with us for a few days. She loves where she lives, and knows that moving away right now would force her to leave her comfort zone of her 'home.'
Since she came in last week, I was excited to see her and spend quality time with her since I was there when my father died. But after a day of her being here, I was becoming impatient and I was dissatisfied with her visit. I didn't know what to do and didn't know where to take her. I live in a small college town, therefore the activities are limited. At least I think so. Since we only live in a 2 bedroom loft, she had to sleep in my daughter's room while my daughter was upstairs sleeping on the couch. She didn't mind because she understood that my mother is on a limited budget so staying at a hotel was not an option.
At first, I welcomed her with open arms, but upon her arrival—not even an hour of her being here—I already wanted her to go back home to leave me alone. It wasn't even 20 minutes after picking her up from the airport that she was driving me crazy. No pun intended. So what to do? I had 4 long days ahead of me and knew after such a short period of time, that I would be frustrated with her presence. The very presence in which I invited her.
Since she arrived in the morning and upon dropping her suitcase off at our loft, we immediately went shopping as moms and daughters typically do. She knew I've been looking for a job, whether it was full time or part time, so as we were visiting one of the clothing stores, she learned that this particular store was hiring. I am a 47 year old woman, and she is 75, so as I continued to try on a few pair of jeans, she instantly announced, not quietly, I may add, that I was interested in a job there. Needless to say, I was mortified and embarrassed. I wanted to run out of there as fast as I could in hopes that the salesgirl wouldn't notice my instantaneous red blushing face.
How could she? How could she embarrass me like that as if I was a young teenager too shy to inquire within? As a manic bipolar woman, I literally wanted to scream. I wanted to smack her across the face as if she was a woman who approached me and started a fight. But I knew the consequences thereafter, so instead, I just chose to acknowledge my interest in a job, and because thankfully they only accept applications through their online website so I could hide behind the computer screen.
After that, I knew I would never apply at this store, simply because of my humiliation in fear of being recognized from this horrific day. How could she? Doesn't she know that I'm a manic bipolar woman, dealing with daily fits of mania? Once we left the store, I made it clear and well known of her embarrassment, hoping she'd understand that what she did was not only wrong, but awkward at the same time. She was remorseful and immediately apologized.
It didn't make it right, but it made it better knowing that she would never react that way again. Regardless of how good the job may appear to be.
As I continued to be a gracious host, I put my selfish tendencies aside and realized, my mother is now alone, and I am the only family she has—aside from my aunt and uncle whom she regularly keeps in touch with that live in New York. She needs the comfort and security of knowing that I am here for her, which I always will be. I think it's normal that a daughter gets impatient with a parent, because I know there are times where my daughter does the same to us, and will most likely get worse as she grows older.
It's the cycle of life. But how we choose to act is another story.
I love my mom and I will always be here for her.
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