When a party is more than a party.

Saturday, as I got ready for my nephew's party, I found myself feeling oddly uneasy.  I was going to see my mom for the first time since I stopped speaking to her – a year and a half ago, on Christmas Day to be precise.  I had had enough.  Enough of her timelines, her judging, and her ridiculous, useless gifts.  

I had my youngest, handicapped sister visiting me over the Christmas break, I had quit my job and discovered that she could come back home for Christmas.  When my dad booked her in and out flights three weeks apart, I was a bit surprised, and asked my mom if she could stay with her for a few days of it.  Mom flew off the handle, overreacting as usual.  She told me that I could watch her, since I had quit my job.  I said fine.  But on Christmas morning, at my grandmother's house, my mom refused to bring in our gifts and refused to open the ones I brought her.  Opting instead to try to drag us down to her smoke-infested house and torture us for a few more house.  I refused.  I wasn't going to do it anymore.  I know it was a really dumb place to put my foot down on, but it was all I had at the moment, so I did it.  My youngest sister comes over to me, asking, "Are we going to Mom's?"  I tell her I'm not sure.  She goes to talk to mom, comes back and says, "Mom says that if we don't go, she will give my gifts to Allison (other sister), but that she wasn't going to give her your gifts."  

Acting like a child, my mom was going to hold my gifts hostage.  Like I want any more of her crap anyway.  I sent her up there with Allison and stayed at my grandmothers.  That was it, the last time I saw or spoke to her.  

I thought that the following February, when word got out that my MIL had cancer, she would call.  She never did.  Probably because she lives in her own tiny world, where only she matters, and the rest of us serve to only be an annoyance to her.  My grandmother said that it was because she thought I wouldn't answer her call.  She's probably right.  I wouldn't have.

So, Saturday, I was nervous.  She had skipped the party last year because of me, but was planning on 'braving it' this year.  Allison told her to act like an adult and get over it.  I found myself acting the way I think I would if I knew I would be running into an ex.  I picked out a cute shirt to go with my new favorite pants.  I fixed my hair, and carefully applied my make-up.  I made sure I had a great gift (which it was, the first season of Spongebob.  My nephew broke into song, singing the entire theme song while holding the DVD's over his head.  I was pleased, it was the only gift that prompted a song.)  And I brought an awesome cake, I had spent three hours decorating that morning.

And then, my mom didn't come.  I was partially relieved, and slightly sad.  I feel like I have something to prove.  Like how great my life it, how I am moving out of my first house (which is way better than my mom's current house) and building an AMAZING house, which again stomps all over hers.  And I have a great career, business cards and all.  And well, just that my life is great overall, and I don't need her.  All the usual stuff.

But that never happened.  And I find myself relieved and disappointed all at the same time.