I had SUCH a great weekend, you guys. I danced too hard and drank too much and talked too loud and got to spend time with (almost) every one of my closest/favoritest girlfriends. I think the following photo pretty much sums it up:
And yes, to answer the question you're obviously thinking: I *DID* leave the house with that hair. It was 80's night! What can I say?
Not only did I dance my ass off (moonwalk anyone?!), but I spent time at the Portland Art Museum on both Saturday AND Sunday (Joel bought us a membership, FTW!). I cooked for our friends. I tried Lebanese pizza and even ate a bite of Joel's lamb (which still tasted like a barnyard to me). Sunday we went to church, which I'll be writing about soon because we ran into someone TOTALLY unexpected there.
It was such a good weekend that it was (mostly) easy to forget that my parents were in town looking at property and that I had chosen not to see them while they were here. Did I mention the fact that they are planning to move here? Because I probably should have.
Remember that week RIGHT before I freaked on Joel the first time? That was the week I talked to my parents for the first time since last summer. It was the week that instead of confronting them about our relationship, I regretably played the Let's Pretend Everything is Okay Game! It was also the week I heard that my parents are planning to sell their house in California to move here to be closer to my children.
Let that sink in for a minute.
Six months ago I stopped talking to my parents. I stopped answering their phone calls. I didn't return their e-mails or facebook messages. And their response was to decide to sell their house to move closer to me.
Basically, I'm going to lose my two-state buffer zone. My no-fly zone!
When we finally did talk, we all pretended that nothing had happened between us. I wish I'd had the nuts to tell my parents what I was thinking, which was: PLEASE DON'T move here. At least not with any expectation of seeing me or my children any more often than you see them now. But I didn't say that. I played along. Because part of me still wanted their approval. Part of me still wanted to be a good girl.
Since then I've stopped talking to them again and here's why:
I choose me.
The past year has taught me that I can either be a sane(ish) mother to my children OR I can have a relationship with my parents. I've dug deep to try to figure out a way to have BOTH and I just don't see it happening in the short term. Right now my mental health can't take both. Joel loves to remind me how doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity. So expecting anything less than the drama I've experienced for 35 years would be insane.
Right now, I have to choose sanity.
I have to choose reality. (Even though it totally sucks.)