Susan
I don’t know how to describe my mother at this point in my life; except that she’s a one-of-a-kind piece of work whom I can’t seem to communicate with effectively in what I would consider “plain English”.
In various ways, Susan reminds me of several people I’ve encountered throughout my life, both real and fictional.
(This is a very disparate list; the perceived likeness to Susan usually does not follow the transitive property, and is sometimes just based on a single personality trait.)
- Eric Cartman’s mother
- Sadie Miller’s mother
- The mom from this comedy sketch
- South Park’s “Michael Jefferson”
- GLaDOS
- Charlie’s uncle Jack from Always Sunny
- Rose from Two and a Half Men
A sketch of “Susan”
Attributes
- Terrified of abandonment
- Terrified of losing access to me
- Afraid I will go to “white collar prison” for some reason
- Won’t cut the umbilical cord, and acts like it’s “just how moms are”
- Is idiosyncratically progressive and conservative in different contexts; a classic “Christian democrat” in many political regards.
- Pines for more information and access into my personal life, but fails to act rationally and follow social norms when given it. Wants the bleeding edge, but can’t handle the bugs.
- Almost as if she worships a “cult of Ethan/Rachael”. It feels beyond normal parent-child admiration.
- Used baby talk way too late in my development, if she’s ever completely stopped. I thought it was our little in-joke when I was in high school; but, she just sort of kept it up way after it got old.
- She’s resisted the idea of me growing older in general; her attachment to me feels unhealthy, and she now views me as “all she has left” now that my dad/her ex husband has passed on.
- This sounds mean, but… I don’t think the “logic” part of her brain works. I used to think it was me; I was a computer nerd, and normal people were all emotion and no logic like Susan. Then I thought it was just women who were like that, and that there was no way I could be one of them. Now I think my mom is just a whackadoodle.
Anti-patterns
- Asking whether I want something, then proceeding to ignore me when I answer “no”. She does this with food, gifts… I’ve inquired as to why she asks if my answer doesn’t matter. She usually responds telling me to “be nice to a-widdle muver” or some shit.1
- Asking leading questions that discourage honest answers. (“Are you still a Christian even though you watch South Park?”; “Are you going to let me live in your guest house once you’ve built your wealth?”) This can feel a bit like brainwashing in the most extreme of cases.
- Extremification (“I drink Sam Adams sometimes” → “He only drinks Sam Adams”)
- Conflation (“He downloads his music ‘through the backdoor’”; “She said she listens to ‘emo’ now” (I said ‘indy’))
- Extreme emotional reactions
#TODO
- Shuts down virtually any complaint or grievance with thought halting statements like “Don’t me mean to your little mother!”, or a derailment about how much she loves me. Will start to cry if you keep pressing for something real, and will probably recall this argument later as one of the times you were “weally mean to a-widdle muver”.
Questionable advice
She filled me up with all sorts of bad advice, which I still might not’ve entirely deprogrammed all these years later. If I’m anything resembling a decent person, I think I’m that in spite of her, not because of her.
- Lie and deny
- Fake it ’till you make it
- Don’t tell Cody you’re a “liberal”
The iPad incident
As my 22nd birthday approached, I had a conversation with my mother that went something like this.
Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?
No, not really…
Well, do you want an iPad?
Eh, not really.
YES YOU DO!
No, I really don’t. It kinda just looks like a big iPod Touch.
I naively thought this was the end of it; until I received, for my birthday, a brand new Apple iPad. I didn’t bring up our prior conversation, and thanked her for the gift.
I took the iPad back to my apartment and began setting it up. Shortly after I installed Skype, my dad called me on it.
After I picked up, I was confused why I couldn’t get the front facing camera to work like in the commercials. At first I thought it might be some proprietary FaceTime bullshit, but I eventually figured out the real problem; this was a first generation iPad, which lacked the selfie camera. My initial impression that my mother bought an older iPad because she was poor, yielded to a deeper understanding when I found an invoice buried in the packaging with the actual dollar amount she paid. There were… a few obvious problems with this purchase.
- She bought the iPad through QVC
- She bought a first generation iPad, despite the fact that the second generation had been out for several months
- The purchase price was considerably more than a new second generation iPad. I think she paid around $1200, when it should’ve been closer to $800 before it was superseded by a newer model.
- The iPad included the optional 3G cellular modem, which added a non-trivial amount to the purchase price. Apple had an exclusive agreement with AT&T at the time, rendering the rather expensive add-on useless; my mother and I had a phone plan with US Cellular.
I conjectured that she bought the iPad through QVC because she wanted to finance it and had shit credit. Okay. If that was all, I probably would never have brought it up.
An ethical quandary began weighing on my mind: what if my mother could return this iPad for a cheaper one which at least lacked the 3G modem? She bought me something she couldn’t really afford in the first place, then paid way too much for it, then paid a couple hundred more bucks for something I can’t even use. Shouldn’t I at least… talk to her about it?
When I raised my concerns, Susan began crying inconsolably. She tearfully explained that she wanted me to have the very best iPad. I tried to explain that it wasn’t better, it was just more expensive. She didn’t seem to understand the bit about the cellular modem at all. After it became clear she couldn’t return the iPad even if she wanted to, I realized I needed to do damage control and extract myself from this situation.
Phew. No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.
I wish I could tell you this was the end of it. It was not.
The iPad eventually found it’s way into my college life. It was nice to use for internet browsing sometimes, and I found this neat app that let you simulate circuits. I didn’t really miss the front facing camera; I was only confused when I took it out of the box and couldn’t do the one thing Apple had been showing people doing with it on TV for the last six months. I never would’ve bought it for myself, but I really did use it quite a bit.
Christmas time arrives. There’s a giant red bag with… something… in it, and it’s the biggest gift. We’re saving it for last.
Would anyone care to venture a guess what was in the big red bag? I could use spoiler tags for the HTML version of this document, you know.
At the bottom of this comically oversized big red sack was a brand new second generation Apple iPad. My mother had apparently corralled my father into chipping in for this gift; which I apparently needed after my disappointment(?) with the earlier iPad.
So, this is fucking great. I now have two iPads. I didn’t even want one of them. Shit, man. When it rains it pours.
I was given the option of keeping both iPads or returning the newer one. I, uh… returned the newer one. And vowed never to comment on any of her gifts again; even if it was only to be helpful.
I fucked up at least once since then.
For some subsequent holiday, my mother bought me an unsolicited Nintendo 3DS. I attempted to accept this gift while smiling and nodding.
But, she kept fishing for a compliment from me. Didn’t I do good? Aren’t I a good muver?
Eventually I just snapped. And said something about how the Nintendo was childish.
I do feel a little bad about this, because it isn’t even fair to say that I’ve “outgrown” Nintendo. I’ve actually wasted a lot of time this year playing Ship of Harkinian.
I forgot about this incident, until a couple years ago when Susan decided to bring up how mean I am to her sometimes. I think it was in response to me having bought myself a Nintendo Switch.
I didn’t understand; until I remembered that I really can’t communicate with this woman.
#TODO
I like beer
I turned 21 at the beginning of my junior year. The rest of us were close enough to 21 at that point in college.
Over the course of several weeks, our apartment accrued a beer pyramid on our kitchen counter. We also had a bunch of empty liquor bottles on our top shelf that we would illuminate with a blue rope light; most of which were left over from Marc and Noah’s residency. And there was a large collection of bottle caps, which we intended to make a tabletop with eventually.
We had a routine of putting all this stuff away in Will’s room whenever somebody’s parents were coming over. This grew tiresome, especially as the amount of self-censorship increased. We probably took up half of his floor space with jugs and bottles and smoking paraphernalia.
My dad decided to pay me a visit one day, and I had grown complacent. I knew my dad drank and even smoked pot; I still cleaned up a little and didn’t leave our pieces laying out or anything, but I didn’t relocate or recycle the beer pyramid. And, I don’t think I moved the liquor bottles either. I didn’t think my dad would care all that much; in fact, I thought he might actually be a bit proud of me for lightening up for once.
Indeed, my dad didn’t make much of a fuss about the evidence of alcohol consumption; but he did tell my mom, and she is a basket case.
My mother seemed very concerned that I was, like, an alcoholic or something. Given her family of origin, I can kind of see why; but, I really have never felt an urge to get drunk every night. High, certainly. It’s fun, but too much of it makes me sick, then I wake up with a hangover, I can’t cross with weed without vomiting from the spins, too much wine really sucks…
Dude. I’m a pothead.
I didn’t tell her that, though. She, somewhat expectedly, pried into the drinking habits of me and my roommates.
Is anyone there drinking underage??
… No…
Who all is drinking over there?? Does Josh drink?
He isn’t 21 yet… so, no.2
Does Will drink?
Will turned 21 in November… so, yes.
What do you drink?
Well… different things, I guess…
Do you drink beer? Do you drink the hard stuff?
Well, I like beer…3
What kind of beer do you like?
Well, I like Sam Adams…
The more bizarre part were the echoes back I got as a result of my mother’s inquisition. Multiple friends told me she cornered them to ask about my drinking habits, and she seemed like she was losing her mind about it.
This culminated in Josh telling me
Hey Ethan! Your mom says you only drink Sam Adams!
I was confused at first who would even say such a thing about me. I drank Dogfishhead, Bell’s… hell, I’d settle for a Blue Moon or even a Miller High Life. But the smell of Natty Light made me dry heave. Anyway, who the fuck came up with the idea that I only drink Sam Adams?
#TODO
She wants to talk to my boss?
Not long after I started my first job out of college, my mother sent us a message through our website. My boss brought it up one morning, and we had a laugh about it. I forget what it said, or if Kevin even mentioned that much. I cringed a little, but it sounded like it was just one of those things moms did; so I tried not to think much of it.
Not long after I started my second job out of college, I found myself alone at the office. The phone rang, and I was thrown off when I saw our family name on the caller ID. I answered the phone, confused, but as professionally as possible.
The thing about this place is, that it wasn’t a fully staffed office. We all had various customer sites we went to, we checked email and voicemail, and there was someone in the office sometimes.
I think my mom had been “trying to get a hold of somebody” for a bit and said something snarky about it. I started rolling my eyes once I realized this wasn’t a case of my cell phone being unreachable. Anyway, it eventually became clear she wanted to talk to my boss; and I think she was a little frustrated that she couldn’t find a way that wasn’t through me.
Another thing about this place is, the family who owned the company was probably the least predictably in the office. They were actively involved in the business, and we usually saw them at least a few times a week. It was certainly expected that we would handle day-to-day bullshit, and the request puts me the awkward position of either getting into a fight with my mom or sending Ben and Barbara a really weird Slack message to call my mommy. I tried to take a message, but she really just wanted to talk to them in person.
I was understandably put off. The request made me feel like I had some kind of secret handler; like I was some special needs adult, whose mommy was letting me play engineer in the city until it was time for supper. The lack of transparency as to the phone call’s purpose was incredibly unnerving.
I actually forget how I ultimately handled this situation. I do very much remember fussing with her about it. I don’t remember if she eventually wore me down or not.
Dressing rooms
After I started transitioning, Susan often wanted to go clothes shopping. It was early on in this process that Susan decided she wanted to go in the dressing room with me. This was something I strongly objected to.
At first. She eventually managed to wear me down after some amount of insisting it was a perfectly normal mother-daughter thing to do, and would help streamline things. Or… something.
I once again think this is creepy as hell, if I ever really felt comfortable with it at all. I think this is a good example of how she has a way of normalizing really bizarre behavior, by incessantly badgering you into feeling like you’re the weirdo for being uncomfortable.
Forgetting stuff
Susan does not respond well to forgetfulness; particularly surrounding important events like holidays. She will get pissed off if you forget to give her a card and a gift for Mother’s Day and her birthday (which are a week or two apart), or similarly manage to botch Christmas. This has been a thing since at least early in high school. I don’t mean a little pissed off; I mean like if you were her husband and forgot your anniversary or something.
Rachael’s house
I told Susan I was about to buy a house. It was fall, and she eagerly told me not to get her anything for Christmas. There was a lot going on; I considered, and ultimately did take her up on this. I really should’ve known this was a bad idea.
At least, that’s what she’s told me over the years as she’s berated me for literally not getting her anything, just like she told me to. And, it isn’t like she only offered once either.
She didn’t say not to get her anything big. She didn’t say just to get her one tiny thing as a symbolic gesture.
Don’t get me anything for Christmas.
I mean it! I don’t need anything! I know you’re doing a lot right now, buying your first house and everything.
Well, you could’ve at least gotten me a book or something…
Yes Susan, I fucking could have. But you told me…