Ten days to go until my little boy gets married. I’ve ordered the balloons, the ribbons for the wedding car are safely stored with the ‘pull bows’, must try one so I know how to do them, my hair and nail appointments are made. One daughter is making the table centres, Jack has drawn the picture that will be used on the menu and he and Amy are in training for handing out the ‘favours’ ( I am extremely doubtful about Amy being given a large basket of sweeties, son obviously has more faith in her than I do!). I have been depriving myself of carbohydrates and calorie heavy foodstuffs for weeks now hoping that I can shed some flesh and the skirt that I use to gauge if my efforts are successful is suggesting that I have gone down a clothes size. Yeah! Unfortunately I think I need to buy a different pair of shoes. I had bought a pair with open toes, then the other day my toe experienced a close encounter with the stairgate, the nail is now black, no concealing it in those shoes. A cover-up is needed.
Mother has put a spanner in the works, I want to strangle her. When son first announced his wedding plans she said that she didn’t think that she would go as it is a civil ceremony and, being a rabid catholic, she couldn’t condone it. “Up to you Mother”. Then she thought about it and decided that she would condescend to go. A week ago she phoned me to say that she wouldn’t be attending as my step-father would be going on an annual walk that weekend. I would like to say that I was speechless but that would be untrue, I was eloquent in the extreme. “Stop right there Mother. You said ‘annual’, it’s a annual event this walk. Right, that means that it happens every year. Your grandson is getting married for the first, and hopefully, the only time this, or any other, year. Now, let me get this straight, you feel that an annual walk is more important than an invitation to the most important event in your grandson’s life?” Her response was to ask me to tell son that she wouldn’t be going to his wedding. I declined the offer and this is when she started explaining that stepdad doesnt even know about the wedding and she doesn’t want to stop him going on his walk because he is ‘bi-polar’ and it might ‘tip him’. Bi-polar my a**e. If there is anyone with, or causing, a psychiatric disorder it is the mother from hell. My poor sister was immediately alerted to Mum’s calumny, I think I was mostly intelligible whilst relaying the essence of the conversation. I was so angry I was shaking. Last I heard mother has decided that she will come without her husband. Pondering about tipping someone over the edge, by asking them to make a choice, has me questioning about whether not telling him there is a choice could be equally destructive if, or when, he finds out.