On Her Terms.

I can’t deny that living back home with my mother is difficult. David and I have been here for ten months now. We were not anticipating being here for so long and unfortunately now it is becoming a struggle.

I find it hard enough to live solely with my husband let alone another person. My mother has her own amazing qualities as well as some awkward and irritating faults. Most of which she will quite happily defend or deny. I am feeling pretty frustrated at the moment and I know my husband shares these feelings too. 

Not that the time here hasn’t been pleasant but at thirty two, I have grown as has David and we are in desperate need of our space. Yes, we have the option of renting again but it totally defeats our original purpose of coming here in the first place. As we wait patiently through this agonizing time for my father’s inheritance (it will soon be the 2 year mark) I can’t help but wish for it to come sooner. Not only would it be beneficial to find a property before the little one comes, we need to be able to breathe. Sadly, both my parents share similarities. I was and am unable to laugh with them on my terms. My humour differs to theirs. My Dad liked silliness or humour at other’s expense. My mother likes old fashioned humour rarely understanding modern comedy. I and David are quite dry in our humour; quintessentially British we like to think. There are therefore occasions where our humour is lost on her.

She takes offence very easily even when nothing is set to offend her. A passive attitude and defeatist demeanour aids this. Although she once told me she was an assertive person, there is nothing to support this. Once maybe, a long time ago but it has been many, many years since I have witnessed assertive behaviour from her.

One thing she always confuses is passion with anger.

I do believe you can feel passionately about something and when this happens you may explain it in a forceful way. A moment ago this happened as I showed my mother a recipe. In her usual manner, she found fault in it before anything else (Dave and I are struggling with her constant fault finding in life at the moment) and when I justified the Michelin starred restaurant’s recipe, my mother snapped and in her native language shouted,

“Don’t get angry!”

A phrase she utters every time you dare to disagree with her. Sadly, this is happening more often than not. I vent here on WordPress because it is safe. I cannot approach her with this as she walked away from our spat fuming. I refuse to argue or shout whilst carrying this little one. It is not fair on the baby nor is it fair on me. 

I could never speak freely with Him and unfortunately I can’t with her either. Life is on her terms.

I am too old for this! 

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