What's right isn't always fun
I'm spending the weekend with my mom.

I volunteered to do this so that my sister could go away for the weekend with her boyfriend. I'll go over tomorrow afternoon, spend the night, and come back home on Sunday afternoon. I had planned on bringing her back her tomorrow, but I think I'll take her out somewhere. The Flyers are playing tomorrow and I'd rather not distract Husband from the playoffs. Besides, mom is pretty much a prude and she really doesn't need to hear Husband yell "kill the fuckers!'

Now I know this is the right thing to do and I'm happy to help out my sister who, poor thing, definitely needs a break. But, in all honesty, I'm dreading it. Not just that I'll miss Husband and Cipher (TWMACSYIFDA tm) but also because after about an hour in my mom's company, I'm ready to go home. Actually I'm ready to go home, have a drink and lie down with a cool compress on my head while I tell myself I'm adopted.

I've written quite often about my dysfunctional relationship with mom. It's compounded by the fact that she doesn't realize that it is dysfunctional. Mom thinks we're the Waltons. I'm not sure if it's denial or what, but she really does think we're one big happy, loving family. It's both vaguely sweet and kinda sad. And I feel awful about it. I know she gave me life, and I do have some fond memories of when I was a kid. But I just don't have that kind of "blood is thicker than water" attitude and everything I do is out of duty, not love. Some times it makes me feel like a really bad person. Other times I think that realizing and accepting this is rather healthy. The truth probably lies somewhere in between. But, come Sunday night, that drink is mine.