I don't like my mother. There I said it. I love her, but I don't like her.
I moved my family in with my mother this past summer. I sold my house faster than expected with the plans to move into a job in Longmont or Oregon. Suffice it to say that I didn't get the job but pressed on with the house sale figuring it was time to get out of the neighborhood anyway and establish roots in a house for my family. I thought that it would be a good opportunity for Milo to bond with his grandmother because she really didn't come around, maybe five times in the two years of his life. She did get a chance to spend more time with him but none of it turned out how I wanted. It was six months of staying with her and maybe a total of one month of good.
Some things I learned from this whole escapade was that sometimes crazy is just crazy. My mom has been unstable since as far back as I can remember. As long as I can remember she had bouts of manic behavior. Really happy in one instance and boatloads of angry and crazy in another. I always wished for some different behavior and continuously was surprised that the same old thing happened over and over. I was unlucky enough to have that growing up and I don't know why I wanted Milo to go through that.
I think my bonds with Pam and my family have improved because of this.
There were definitely hard times and angry words between us all but I hope we are all better now. What I really wanted was a family, a normal family. I love my aunts and uncles because they are a bond to my dad. I love the family that it all entails. I also love the family that Pam brings.