What's in a Name Part 2

I don’t usually write follow up posts but after a recent conversation , I’m making an exception and writing part II to What’s in a Name. If you haven’t read it, it’s where I discuss the similarities between my own Grandma Jones (my dad’s mother) and my mother as a Grandma Jones to her only grandchild. I couldn’t decide if “What’s in a Name Part II” or “Get a Load of this Shit” was a better title but decided to go with a part II since it’s a continuation on the same topic. 

For those interested in the TL; DR version:

It’s been over three years since my mother has seen her only grandchild. 

I don’t see that changing any time soon.

I have tried to help plan and even offered to pay for her travel and she still has reasons to not visit. 

I’m done inviting her and trying to make something happen. 

If it’s important to her she’ll do something about it. 

It’s clear that it’s not important to her. 

It’s clear that neither Joni nor I are important to her. 

Her sisters and nieces and their kids (what I call her Real Family) come first and only. 

No one else matters.

After over 2 years we are starting to get back to “normal” and only now starting to dip our toes back into the world. We have taken every precaution. To some it seemed prudent and responsible and to some it seemed extreme. However you look at it we stayed safe and healthy with an immunocompromised person (me) and and up until recently unvaccinated toddler. 

In the two years we’ve been in Michigan I’ve talked to my mother a few different times about coming to see us and each time there was a reason involving her Real Family why she couldn’t. One reason was she had to do the at-home remote learning for my cousin’s youngest because apparently she is the only functional and literate adult of the bunch. Another time she had to drive the other grown ups around because also apparently no one else can drive. 

We have travel plans for later this summer and early fall so I called her and asked if she wanted to come see us and her only grandchild in October. After the usual excuses I offered to pay for her travel and was still met with “No”. The only reason for her continued refusal to visit us is that she just doesn’t want to or care which is a really shitty feeling. There could be some reason that she is not being honest with me about, which is very possible considering our recent history. 

It’s been three years since she has seen her only grandchild and at this rate it may be kindergarten graduation or later before she does and doesn’t seem to care. When I ask her point blank if she cares or even wants to see me or her only grandchild she tearfully says she does but her actions and inaction say otherwise. 

Previously when I spoke with my mother about visiting us I told her she would need to quarantine before coming because she is not vaccinated nor is anyone in her immediate circle. When I explained what quarantining to visit would entail she admitted she wouldn’t be able to because of her obligations to watch other people’s kids and run errands for others. 

Now that our Tiny Human will be fully vaccinated by the time of the proposed visit I explicitly said she wouldn’t need to quarantine before coming.  I didn’t even bring up her getting vaccinated. I know she won’t because of what some people told her or she heard on cable news about vaccines. She claims she spoke to her doctor but I don’t believe her. Her story on various events has changed and evolved over the last few months regarding things that happened or didn’t happen. 

Every time I talk to my mother I ask if anyone there is or was sick and if everyone is ok. Every time I get the same answer, “yes, everyone is fine” which I now know is bullshit. How do I know this? Let me tell you.

In our last conversation my mother told me that she has covid and she gave it to Middle Sister because they live together in a small house behind Youngest Sister’s house. I asked if anyone else had it and only then did she tell me that my cousin, her husband, and their two kids had it in January and she’s sure she told me. 

She didn’t because I would have remembered that because that was my greatest fear that one of my cousin’s kids would give it to my mother. She claims she got it at the dentist but again considering the evolution of stories and events the last few months I don’t believe her. I don’t know where she got it but I don’t believe it was the dentist. Even in Chucklefuck, Indiana I would imagine a dentist office would have some sort of safety protocols but maybe not. She may forget what version of events she told me and tell me the truth someday. Maybe.

Referring back to the TL; DR section at the beginning of this post, the ball is in her court and if the last three years are any indication we won’t be seeing my mother any time soon and while I can’t speak for the Tiny Human I am past the point of caring. It makes me sad and hurt but it’s also par for the course for our relationship the last several years. 

It’s my mother’s loss because my Tiny Human is amazing and deserves better from her Grandma Jones.

My Backpack Saved My Life

18 months later I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve started to write this story. It’s the story of how in March of 2020 my backpack saved my life and prevented me from getting Covid on the New York subway. 

The week we were in Detroit we heard the news about this new virus that was mostly in Seattle and the West Coast and honestly didn’t think much about it. As the week progressed, the outbreak in Italy took over the news and got our attention. If it was in Europe, it was probably in New York. By the end of the week mini outbreaks were reported in New York but nothing too severe yet. 

After a week in the Detroit area (serious unintentional  foreshadowing) taking care of some business that Jess had to deal with about her dad’s estate and the house she inherited we got back to New York later than originally planned and were exhausted. Sunday was a catch up day doing errands, grocery shopping, and laundry. Before I knew it, it was 1am and I had to be up at 6:30 to get ready and leave so I could get to work by 8 so I could leave at 4 because the nanny had to leave 5 for class by 5. Lots of moving parts. 

Because Sunday had been so busy, I never took the time to repacked my backpack for work so when I woke up Monday morning and started getting ready I noticed it was still packed for travel. Being not fully awake and news of Covid starting to make a bigger footprint in New York, I called an audible and emailed my boss to ask if I could work from home that day. 

I was genuinely concerned about my health since I’m immunocompromised and I knew it would take about an hour to unpack and repack my backpack before I could leave. My boss replied about 20 minutes later and said sure, no problem. The news on how Covid was spreading in New York developed hourly. Later in the day on Monday I emailed my boss again and asked if I could work from home the rest of the week because I was increasingly concerned about my safety. Again, she replied quickly and said sure and she wasn’t sure what the plan for the rest of the office would be. Two days later, I got the email that said everyone could work from home for the foreseeable future.

It didn’t get better and it’s still not. 

Considering how much about Covid and transmission was unknown in early March 2020 I don’t think it’s too far or hyperbolic to say that the fact I was delayed in getting  out the door and ultimately didn’t go into the office because my backpack wasn’t packed for the workweek saved  my life. Every day the rest of that week and for the next few weeks we were in New York before moving to Michigan the news got worse and the case numbers went up. We lived 3 blocks from Elmhurst Hospital and there were sirens every 20 minutes 24 hours a day for weeks. With a (at the time) 10 month old who loved going to the park and story time at the library it was tough to suddenly never go outside until the day we got in a rental minivan and drove 637 miles west to Ferndale, Michigan. 

I don’t know 100% for sure that I definitely would have gotten sick if I had gone into the office that day but with the benefit of hindsight and history, I think it’s more likely than not that I would have and I don’t want to follow that thought down any rabbit holes. 

I’m here, I’m happy, I’m vaccinated, and I will continue to wash my hands, wear a mask, and steer clear of the creepers.