In my house I have to
admit that most of the time you will find chaos. I don’t really understand why,
because I know how to keep order, I know how to clean, I know what to do to the
laundry, I know all the smart things to do to stay up-to-date on everything
which needs to be done in a house. And yet I live in constant fear my aunts
will drop by unannounced.
Pretty strange thing to be
worried about, you may think. But the result of them coming to my house and
witness my muddled home, would be both disturbing and shameful.
I could have written a
novel about the relationship my mother has to her sisters. But, in short, it is
a relationship based on phone calls every morning; to update what happened
yesterday to who and why and when and where and then they exchange an outline
on today’s agenda. My parents don’t live close by, but they are informed on
what goes on, through my aunts’ detailed reports. The internet, in this case
Facebook, has added to this flow of information, so the net is tightening in,
so to speak.
It is not like as if they
come by my house very often, just every now and again, but for some strange
reason the infrequent visits keeps me in a state of nervous alert.
So how come the possibility
of them dropping by is so nerve-racking?
Well, both my aunts are
experienced housewives. Women who have long life experience in keeping house,
and they have done so with excellence, at least apparently, and they know what
to look for when they are to disclose evasion. They know how to inspect an area
or an item for flaws.
So, while comfortably sitting
in the sofa, drinking coffee, chit chatting about nothing and everything, I can
literally feel their radar beam aerial scanning the room for information on the
state of my house, kids, kitchen countertop, top of baseboards… they know the
traps, and how to create my downfall.
Next time my mother calls,
usually a couple of hours later, she comments upon everything my aunts have
reported/commented upon: Why don’t I water my house plants? Why haven’t I
folded all the towels in the tumble dryer? I really should have dusted the lamp
shades on my bracket lamps in the hallway… And when she has listed all my
shortcomings she sums it up in two sentences: “I raised you better than this.” And
“I am so happy they always feel so welcome and relaxed when they come to your
place for a visit.”
“I raised you better than
this”? No, she didn’t. I remember what our house looked like when I was a kid.
And believe me: It was never impeccable! No matter how bad she would like to
seem like the perfect housewife; she wasn’t. Being a mum with four kids, living
on a farm and working full time as a nursing aid could possibly have something
to do with it…
“I am so happy they always
feel so welcome and relaxed when they come to your place for a visit”? Yeah, I
only wish the feeling was mutual, because they all make me feel like living on
an edge. On one side I get utter denunciation, on the other side I get the
thumbs up.
I am 40+ years old. I am
not sure I am old enough, let alone ready, to handle either. They tear me down and
stamp on my self-esteem, then they raise me up and give me compliments, with residual
flavor, leaving me like a question mark: What did just happen?
