Wine and whine and the dramatic arts

I really do not travel well. I wish I did. Like a fine wine, I am susceptible to changes in altitude, temperature, pressure, and am bruised by buffeting. This trip was really uncomfortable, since both Dave and I were walking wounded. Dave’s knee has stopped screaming, but is still protesting LOUDLY, and he can’t walk without a cane. I have tendonitis in my right thumb and am wearing a brace to keep it immobile. Imagine us negotiating security in any given airport and weep. Or laugh- we looked pathetically laughable, I am sure.

Segue - For some reason, people seem to think I am dramatic. Grant you, I can emote, mug, and ham it up with the best of them- I think most good teachers are really frustrated actors, and I am a really good teacher- but I don’t think of myself as dramatic. My emotions may be relatively binary, but they are genuine, and I don’t see that as dramatic. Unfortunate, yes. Dramatic, no.

Because of this general misapprehension on the content of my character, I have been “blamed” for my daughter’s dramatic tendencies. I am proud of her tendencies, and in awe of her talent but I have often said, and quasi-believe, that I was just the container for the thing contained when it comes to Kelly. I harbor a secret suspicion that despite my carrying her in my body for nine months and loving her with all my heart, she is really Dave’s sister Rita’s child. There is so much that is deep, strange, unfathomable- and similar- about the way Kelly and Rita’s minds work. Rita would have been one hell of actor had her interests bent in that direction. Since they did not, everyone assumes Kelly’s flare for the dramatic comes from me. Balderdash, I say. I really don’t think that with Mama around, fingers should be pointed at me.

I suppose it didn’t help, really, that I was gone Friday night and half of the Saturday before Dave and I returned to San Diego. I was attending the GFWC of Tennessee Summer Board meeting. As President of the Highland Rim District, I am a de facto member of the State Board. The meeting was in Cookeville, and was very instructive and great fun. I was home by 1 pm on Saturday. Mother was where Mother usually is unless the Western channel is playing on the living room TV- she was in her room, eating and watching old movies. I popped my head in to let her know I was home, and was thoroughly snubbed.

Here we go, I thought, and I was right. The rest of the day was spent enduring a concerted effort on Mama’s part to get us to cancel our trip. Dave’s leg was no good. Travel would be bad for it. (I happened to agree with her on that point). Then she worried about my poor thumb. As we spent the day preparing food for her, making hair appointments, setting the thermostat to her comfort level, etc., we reminded her that Stephanie would be there every day. (“No she won’t. She never comes when you are gone. She never cleans the house. She never cleans my room. I will be all by myself. I’m gonna cry”.) We reminded her that Jake would be dropping in. (“No he won’t. He never comes when you are gone. He never comes to see me. Becca doesn’t even talk to me. The baby spits at me. I will be all by myself. I’m gonna cry”.) I reminded her that Marcia and her crew would be there every Wednesday. (“No they won’t. They never come when you are gone. They never come to see me. She doesn’t even talk to me. I will be all by myself. I’m gonna cry”.) At which point I stopped talking to her.

Sunday morning, we fixed her a good breakfast and tried to spend some quality time with her… through her closed bedroom door. Dave set the TV to the Western channel and hid the remote so that she couldn’t screw up the TV while we are gone. As I was putting the finishing touches on my packing, I heard her sobbing away in the living room, and heard David “comforting” her. She apparently wasn’t comforted. She wailed her way into the kitchen where I was, and I made no attempt to comfort her, so she went out and wailed on the front porch. It was a nice quiet Sunday morning. I hope all my neighbors were in church.

We packed the car and kissed her good-bye and I genuinely felt bad because this time she had produced genuine tears. It can’t be easy living alone for two weeks at her age, I thought, though a part of me wondered what was going to be different when we left. She rarely interacts with us. Maybe just HAVING us there, whether she engages with us or not, is all she wants. I was feeling pretty low when I remembered I had forgotten my glasses. I tried to get back into the house. She had locked me out. When she came to let me in, she was not crying. She was eating.

No sign of tears whatsoever until I stepped back out the door. What an actress! I am sure she will be fine. I am also sure where Kelly gets her flair for the dramatic. She learned at the feet of a master.