To anyone who even remotely knows my family or who has met La Madre once (that's all it takes), they know that I get all of that dramatic blood running through my veins from her. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one out of my siblings who took on that trait - oddly enough the rest of them are incredibly normal, mentally and emotionally healthy young beings. Go figure.
My boyfriend, being the astute individual that he is, learned more about me from 20 minutes with La Madre than he did in 3 months with me.
After much protesting and a little bit of using sex as a distraction I realized that I couldn't hide my family from J forever - especially since he had gone out of his way to integrate me into his. I decided that for his own safety I'd have him meet the whole crew in increments. Starting with the Boss herself. He thought my apprehension might have been because of the whole racial difference thing, but I assured him it was just because, no matter what race you were, my family could be too much for regular people.
Their first real meeting came when, against my better judgement, I thought it would be okay for J and her to hang out at the mall while I got my hair done. Because I only go to a certain salon for a certain thing, and because my hairdresser moves like a wounded turtle, the ordeal was taking up to 2 hours. I was panicking. He wasn't answering my texts, phone calls, or those special mind controlling signals I try to send out to him. I tried calling La Madre. No answer. It boggled my mind that they could keep themselves pre-occupied for so long. Then it hit me: she was talking to him about God only knows what.
Just as I was about to call my brother to get him to call La Madre, J shoots me a text saying 'hey'.
Me: r u ok?
J: Yea, y?
Me: because u haven't been answering me and it's been 2 hrs. and u could have died.
Me: I'm so serious.
J: I'm with your mom. How much longer?
Me: another 20 mins.
Me: r u suuuuure ur ok?
Once I was finally finished getting done up and we were all heading back home I got them to tell me what I'd missed. Apparently, they were now really good friends. They'd eaten lunch together, browsed the mall (I'm sure J looooved that) and did some light shopping. It sounded like a date I'd enjoy and I was a little jealous, until he handed me this manicurist set he'd bought for me on a whim, and then I lightened up. The important thing was that it didn't appear that his opinion of me had changed which meant La Madre had been on her best behavior. No third degree? No questions about your retirement savings plan? And she didn't ask you if you had a single uncle? Okay, then. I'll take it.
Just as I'm relishing in the thought that all parties might have gotten though this unscathed, I make some comment that I can't even remember which triggers the crazy in La Madre to come out. Maybe I said she was driving too fast or asked for something, whatever. It was kind of like opening Pandora's box and as I'm trying desperately to close it, things are spewing out. Before I know it she's telling him how much she loves us and how she's sacrificed so much for her kids and wishes I would come home from college more to visit. In between sobs and steering she's turning back to me and telling me how she just wants the best for me and really wants to open up a baking business.
I know just how to react in this situation - you have to match her crazy with crazy - but because for whatever delusional reason I'm holding onto the chance that J might still like me, I don't say a word.
When we finally reach our destination, she gets out of the car, gives J the biggest, most somewhat questionable hug and tells him to call her 'Mom'. I'm dead.
Once she drives off I ask J, with my head down, if he still wants to continue the relationship. He actually thinks for a little bit, but then laughs and says he understands me a lot more after having met my mother. I tell him that I'm no where near as emotional as she is and he tells me that we're a lot more alike than I think.
I mean, I guess.
DISCLAIMER: Now I'm not saying that La Madre is certifiable crazy, by any means. She's actually the most self-less, caring, sensitive, annoyingly creative person I have ever met. She's got so much life in her that she almost doesn't know how to contain it all so she shares her dreams and aspirations with me, urging me to live my life to the fullest. My mom's biggest issue in life has always been her running on her emotions - and that's it. When she's happy, she's ecstatic with big smiles and tons of affection. But when she's not, the world might as well have just ended because her world did. Logic? Irrelevant. It's something you get use to. I think her bipolar characteristics could lead those on the outside to think 'somethin' ain't right', but I promise you, it just takes some getting use to.
In fact - think Tammy from Basketball Wives, only MUCH less hood unless she feels completely comfortable around the people she's with.
(In case you haven't seen the little tab to the left of your screen: follow me on Twitter. I follow back! & let me know so I can add you to my nifty little 'blogosphere' list)