H’s parents tend to be harder to pin down and like a lot of notice, so he called them two, maybe three weeks ago to pick out a date. They said they could come this Saturday, he asked me if that would work, I said “sure” and then called my family.
Me: Hey, Ma. We are thinking of having a birthday party for B here Saturday the 31st. Can y’all come?
Mother: Oh. Okay. What day is that?
Me: Saturday
Mother: Oh. (pause) (coldly) Is there any *reason* you are having it on a Saturday rather than a Sunday?
Me: I don’t know. Don’t people go to church on Sunday sometimes? Does there have to be a reason? Can y’all not come that day?
Mother: Oh, no. I just wondered if there was a reason. It might be easier for your brother to come on Sunday.
I told her that I wasn’t really expecting my brother and SIL to be able to come at all, since they both work a lot, and SIL never knows her work schedule more than a few days ahead of time, and that I would invite them but it was pointless to try to plan the party around them, and that they never like to come up here anyway because they don’t want to spend the money on gasoline.
Then, just to be agreeable, I put her on hold and asked H if we could switch to Sunday, and he gets all nervous and said that he already told his parents Saturday, and that his brother (who might have been able to come with them) had to get to the airport Sunday. I told my mother this and she was like, “Oh, all right, if there’s something with H's brother. . .”
I called her again today to ask about something and she said, “Oh. Does it matter if the party is on a Saturday or Sunday?”
Me: Well, we’ve already told people it would be Saturday.
Mother: (vaguely) Oh, okay.
Me: Would it be better for you on Sunday?
Mother: No, I just wondered. But of course if you told H’s parents Saturday already you can’t go changing everything back and forth. (accusingly) It just might have been easier for your brother on a Sunday.
I didn’t get into the explanation I went over weeks ago. I just got off the phone. But now I feel tense, and anxious, and cruddy about not having planned the stupid party for a Sunday, or at least having asked her first which day she wanted.
And I was thinking. . . this is just how it is with my mom and always has been. I try to attune to her enough to guess what it is that I’m supposed to be doing, I suppose so that I can avoid these guilt feelings when I apparently guess wrongly.
I really just wondered if I could get some other people’s perspectives and opinions on this interaction. Does it make sense that she makes me a nervous wreck, or should I conclude this is about something-or-other else and try to figure out what’s wrong with me along different lines?
Thank you,
heldincompassion