My family goes on a weekend trip to Anilao every year during the summer. (with my mother’s siblings and their families, my father forever absent) This year was a bit different. This year I prepared for the trip a little more than I usually do. I brought music for everyone, some playing cards, and DVD’s to keep the kids busy at night and give the adults some unwinding time. I also had my mind set that no matter what kind of fit my mother or my sister throws, I would stay afloat and not get mixed up into the bad business. I guess someone bigger than us had other plans for me.
On the first day, my boyfriend (well, my husband) and I had a disagreement. But I had it all under the wraps, I went to the bedroom and had a quiet cry over it. There was nothing I could do about it really, but I needed to let it all out. We talked about it afterwards, and then, like most of the crap we go through, we just stepped over it. The rest of the day was spent at Carmiko Beach stuffing our bellies with bad food and snorkelling (and free diving!) until we were spent. The night ended with drunken stories shared by our Uncles (the in-laws..). I felt it was a good day even as my mother spent most of it getting all worked up about every little thing. (and we all wonder why Dich is a drama queen..) I just shrugged everything off completely. Even the complaints about the music I played, which the kids danced to sometimes (it was all jazz..and I really thought it would be appreciated by the majority-so silly of me-instead of having silence as a background to all the yelling they were doing).
The second day proved more trying than the first. Everyone was all worked up about everything! (which makes me wonder about why we even went on that trip in the first place!) When we went to the beach again (we have to ride a boat to get there) my mother and my Tita (Filipino for aunt) Becca and her family didn’t come with us for fear of big waves again (the day before there were very tiny white caps which had them terrified). They spent the entire morning (all the way until about 2:30pm) cleaning the house we rented and attending to other chores (also preparing our food) and generally stressing themselves to the high heavens. We had so much fun on the beach, with the white sand and pretty corals. Until my mother called asking us to go back already. (which we reluctantly did) When we got back, we had late lunch, after which, I noticed the two mattresses (the one laid out on the living room floor for Adel and Adrian to sleep on at night) on top of our bed. What you must understand now is that, in a family of OC (obsessive compulsive) people like us, we never go to bed without taking a shower, nor do we put dirty things (like bags, soiled clothing, food, pillows that we put on the floor, etc.) on our bed as a rule. I had to ask my mother why. To me the idea of putting a stranger’s mattress that was used on the floor, on top of clean sheets was just so wrong. Surprisingly, I was very calm about the whole business of finding out why it was done. I wasn’t even interested in finding out who did it, I just wanted to understand why anyone in a family of OC’s like ours would put something that was used on the floor, on perfectly clean sheets (it just didn’t make sense to me at all; with all the scoldings we got, from sitting on the bed after having been out all day, while growing up). I actually felt very grown up at that moment because I wasn’t angry about it. I just asked my mother a matter of factly (with Adel and Adrian as my witness! I think Virgie was there..but I’m not really sure). No raised voice, no tantrum of a spoiled little brat. Just an adult asking another adult a properly delivered question. MY MOTHER EXPLODED.
She started yelling something about brushing the dirt off the mattress before putting it on top of the bed. Which I replied to with: If it was your bed, would you be alright with that?
It propelled her on a downward spiral, spewing ugly words from her mouth, yelling about how much she’s done for us on this trip and how difficult everything was for her..blah blah blah. (I automatically shut off, a habit acquired growing up, when she does this and so I cannot quote her on all the things she said) I felt the unfairness of the whole thing. I cannot, ever, do something like that to her, but she was justifying the action and getting angry about me asking her how that happened to my bed. Why? For a moment I imagined her to be the wicked witch and us children her slaves for life, born and nurtured to serve her eternally. (well maybe not my brother her favorite..)
Of course her entire family heard about this (her exaggerated version that is), and within the hour my Aunts turned cold towards me. I had no idea that it was happening at the time, I actually thought they had chores to attend to (they avoided me like plague). My mother can exaggerate to the high heavens. I only found out the next day that my Tita Becca threatened to go home a day early because of my immaturity (what the ??!!).
Me immature? After biting back the dozen smart retorts in my head? I who never raised my voice even if I was the one wronged? My mother was the one acting like a teenage drama queen, not me. Why was it my fault? I never even said anything to Tita Becca. I never said anything bad to my mother either.
I talked to my siblings. I asked Adel and Adrian if said anything bad to my mother. They both agreed I didn’t. Dich realized only too late that I never did anything wrong. (she was in the shower when it happened)
What saddens me is that after all these years of being lectured by these Aunts (and my mother!) about fair play, is that no one asked me about what I allegedly said or did. Which only tells me that while they preached the value, they never learned what it actually meant. And my mother, for all the mature practices she demanded that I incorporate in my life, just showed me how bad an immature person deals with a simple question about something wrong that was done.
Sure it was just some dirt from the floor on top of my bed. Which is exactly why I was not angry about the mattress being there, I just frigging wanted to know why! If it was me, I would’ve dumped them between the beds, or stuffed them under the big bed..
It was a trip gone sour. I was totally excited to go last week. Look at me now. I’m so sorry I went. And I’m even sorrier that I brought Alvin with me.
Everytime we have an out of town trip my mother gets all pissy about something. I don’t know why we keep letting her get away with all the crap that she spews from her mouth. She gets all stressed out about the smallest details, and in turn ruins everyone’s moods. All this time, people in our family have felt bad about it and yet, no one tells her off. It is so wrong. And she talks like she should never be the one to try and understand her kids (us!). It sounds awfully wrong coming from a mother.
I know I shouldn’t say bad things about my mother. I know that I should say everything to her face. But who am I to do such a thing? It is unthinkable for me to tell her so. Apart from that, she would never listen to me, a mere mortal. It feels like highschool all over again. It’s so exhausting.
I can’t wait to go back to Anilao and stay with Virgil at his new place. Here’s to hoping to paint a better picture the next time I see Anilao.
