They Call Me Mum

Well, I survived the weekend with my Mother. It wasn’t as painful as I was dreading it to be, so that’s always a plus. She arrived Friday night just in time for the Band Concert. The kids all played wonderfully. They sounded better than some high school bands I’ve heard. I was very proud of Klumpen, and all the other kids. It’s such a good feeling when teachers compliment your children.

After the concert, we all went home and crashed out. I worked on the Kilimanjaro Kat shawl, and Mom read a book. Klumpen was so tired, she went straight to bed. They’d been at the school since noon, practicing for the 7:00 pm concert.

Saturday afternoon, Mom, Klumpen & I went out and did some shopping. Klumpen needed a pair of brown shoes, and I wanted a pair of black shoes, so we went to DSW and were both able to find what we wanted. Then we stopped into Barnes and Noble and Trader Joe’s. It was a nice outing, and with Klumpen there to act as a buffer, Mom and I get along much better.

Saturday evening, we went to dinner at Outback, and during our 30 minute wait (even after the so-called “convenience” of call ahead seating) I worked on TSM’s sock. I’ve been trying to get these done, so that I can work on my friend’s baby items. After swatching, I definitely want to use the Plymouth Encore in denim tweed.

Sunday, after a much needed nap, we went to the mall so that Klumpen could get her hair dyed again. She went for jet black this time. With her dark eyebrows and lashes, it doesn’t look too fake, and she’s happy with it. There are much larger battles to fight than what color hair she has. I found some new work clothes, and Mom found the particular pair of sneakers she was looking for.

While we were waiting for Klumpen, we had a discussion of my father. Or rather my Mother did. I prefer not to even hear about the man. To me, he no longer exists. Let’s just say I had a terrible childhood and leave it at that. I’ve gotten over it, dealt with it, or whatever phrase you’d like to use. I’m not a serial killer, drug addict or alcoholic, so I think I came out of it alright. But my Mother insists on bringing him up in conversations. I finally had enough and told her to just never mention him again.

That was probably our worst moment of the weekend. All her usual snipes were there: about how I waste money, how she’s broke and probably getting kicked out of her apartment, how I’m raising the kids to be heathens, how her van is going to break down and she just won’t go anywhere after that, how the cats are probably causing TSM’s allergies (he’s had them long before this, thank you very much), and on and on, ad infinitum. I’m learning to just let it all go. It’s hard, but I can’t try to please her and live my own life at the same time.

I did finish TSM’s pair of socks yesterday. He’s wearing them today. I love how happy a little thing like a pair of socks can make him.

I also did get to just about the 1/2 way point on the Kat Shawl. I think I have 4 rows to go. I’m looking forward to doing the edging. I’m not looking forward to picking up the several hundred stitches around to get to that point, though.

Oh, geez! I almost forgot! I was so upset with my Mother and some of her comments, that I nearly forgot the compliment she gave me. She asked me to knit a shawl as a thank you gift for a friend of hers. A lady from her church is always doing nice things for her, so Mom wants me to knit her the Pacific Northwest Shawl in cream. I was flattered. The last time she’d commented on my needlework skills was to say “It’s nice but when are you going to learn a new stitch?” after I’d showed her a purse I’d crocheted in all single crochet. So, for her to ask me to knit something for her to give to someone else, is high praise indeed.