Let me tell you

If any of you have been thinking about seeing the movie “Because I Said So,” let me offer some unsolicited advice: Don’t. Back away from the Blockbuster shelf. You’d be better off renting Macualey Culkin’s recent crapfest “Sex and Breakfast.” Maybe. Truly, with either train wreck you’ll find yourself wishing you had those two hours of your life back, feeling impatient and resentful and realizing that there isn’t enough wine in the world (or at least, in the house) to soften the blow.

Perhaps this was not the right time for me to sit through a movie about a ridiculously over-bearing and excessively emotional mother who meddles so much in her daughters’ lives she ends up placing a personal ad to find her youngest child a “mate.” And watching Diane Keaton try for wacky physical comedy, spending most of the movie shrieking and flailing around was, to put it mildly, excruciating. It’s likely the movie was made more torturous for me because I have been consciously ignoring my OWN mother for over a week now, ever since a meeting with my brother’s counselor and a rather depressing conversation with his psychiatrist left us with the more-serious and negative diagnosis, and an ever-expanding gray area where the future should be, of straight schizophrenia. There is yet to be a game plan or concrete prognosis for his potential and long-term care- the only thing we can be sure of is that there is no clear-cut way to Deal With This. Who knows how long we can take him living with us, who knows what he will be capable of in a few months, who knows whether he will be able to hold down his job from week to week, who knows who know who knows.

I sent an email to my sister and mother last week summarizing the new situation and have decided to take several days off from my role as family counselor, ignoring my mother’s insistent phone calls, not up to committing two hours each night to her ranting, grasping at straws, and thinly veiled accusations of the “what did you and Monk do (or not do) to bring this all about??? He was FINE before he moved to Texas!” My emotional inbox is full. As is my plate piled high with guilt sandwiches and your-shirking-your-responsibilities pot roast.

(As Pepe Le Pew would say:) L’sigh.

So perhaps sitting through two hours of overly-emotional maternal histrionics last night was not the best idea. Also, Mandy Moore is in it. So really, I should have known better.

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