Paula Light is the lovely hostess for The Monday Peeve, where we get to complain our guts out to make ourselves feel better.
Today is the day after Christmas or in most people’s case – business as usual. For me, since I have this week off, I hope to get some stuff, that is, if I can stop entertaining my mother’s whims.
My peeves for today are all about my mother.
For Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, we went to my aunt’s house for dinner.
For Christmas Eve, my aunt went to the effort to personally go to a local farm and purchased 3 free-range chickens. Unbeknownst to her and since she can only understand very little English, she asked for “big” chicken. Her request was fulfilled. She got 3 “big” chicken. Unfortunately, “big” chicken also means “old” chicken, which is basically inedible.
After hours of hard work, the meal was ruin.
My mom started griping, “I told you to learn some English,” “how can someone be so stupid?” She then drove home to get the box of beef she marinated despite knowing full well her sister and brother-in-law do not eat beef as part of their Buddhist practice (I don’t know whether this is true).
Minutes later, she returned and began grabbing my aunt’s pans to fry up her marinated beef and tofu, while complaining about my aunt’s kitchen being a mess and the lack of kitchen utensils and plates. It irritates me and I’m sure it’s irritating to my aunt, too, how she took control like that.
It’s not her house. She’s not the hostess. This was a meal my aunt prepared specially for this occasion, why couldn’t we just enjoy what we got? Just because one doesn’t like the food doesn’t give one the right to cook whatever one wants in someone else’s kitchen. Am I right?
My second peeve is my mom has been complaining of being anxious and depressed and as usual, she’s consulting me like I’m the doctor. It is so frustrating because I’ve told her many times, just because I have frequent doctor visit doesn’t make me a doctor. If she wants me to be a doctor, then why did she make me get a degree in engineering and accounting?
Second of all, when I told her I have anxiety, she laughed in my face. “What’s there to be anxious about?” Her words, not mine. “You’re the person with the least valid excuse to be suffering from anxiety.”
W.T.F.! (Pardon my language)
Oh so I can’t have anxiety but you can?