My mother never listened

When I was in high school my mother and I often got into fights. One morning she began yelling at me because I had left one of my socks on the living room floor and I had’t picked it up. “You have walked over that sock. You have walked around that sock, and you haven’t PICKED IT UP.”

In an attempt to show her how mad I was at her yelling at me (even though I should have probably picked up the sock), I stomped up the stairs loudly and angrily, emphasizing each tread. STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.

From downstairs I heard my mother screaming, “AND WHO TOOK MY SCISSORS? EVERYONE TAKES MY SCISSORS AND THEY NEVER PUT THEM BACK!”

Filled with enough of her screaming, and coming straight from my gut, I responded very loudly in a kind of outraged gibberish and with plenty of emotion, “BLAH DEE BLAH DEE BLAH DEE BLAH!”

She yelled up the stairs, “I ALREADY LOOKED THERE AND THEY’RE NOT THERE!”

She stopped me in my tracks. It was then I first realized that my mother never really listened.

It’s only now that I realize what I really wanted her to hear.

This entry was posted in family, transformation, truth and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to My mother never listened

  1. JEROME BLOOM says:

    KEEP THIS UP KEEP IT UP KEEP DOING IT

    MORE MORE MORE

    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    THE STORIES THE STORIES YOUR STORIES

    I LOVE YOUR STORIES

    I LOVE YOU

  2. Mrs. Chili says:

    I am in the midst of this with my own daughter, and I bet I know exactly what happened in that story. Sometimes, we get to a point where we literally CAN’T hear the other (in fact, sometimes we can’t hear ourselves). I try to be aware enough to know when that’s happening, but I don’t always see…

  3. Michael says:

    You hooked me, brought me in, and caught me. What an ending!

  4. Peggy says:

    I know I probably wasn’t supposed to laugh when your mother yelled back that she already looked there, but it is so darn funny. And tells so much about us mothers. We do get caught up in the minutia of messes, responsibilities, and the stuff that keeps little worlds turning from moment to moment. And, then in the midst of that, we don’t listen. There are moments when I wonder if I am channeling my mother. Moments that I am not so proud of. Why I want to blame my mother for that, instead of motherhood itself, I am not sure. It must be easier to blame someone! So maybe next time I trip over some bag of rocks, or slip on one of several hundred “tickets” strewn about my living room, I will try to take a deep breath, and calmly (while swearing under my breath) ask Maisie to please pick up her stuff.

    Thanks for telling this story, especially at the moment when I feel like I need to laugh at myself.

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