The “Egg” Incident

At around 8 p.m.

So I was minding my own buisness, making graphics as usual, filling requests and stuff like that, when mom told my sister to bring her her cup of tea from outside. My sister did, holding the glass precariously, giving it to mom. Mom’s attention was fixated, as it had been for the past twenty hours, on the whole cricket world cup thing. I mean, come ON people. Its just hitting a ball with a bat! I dont see you guys appreciating the awesomeness of baseball! Sheesh.

Anyway, so what happened next happened very fast: moms hand collided with the cup at a very bad angle, and the cup tilted over on my sisters hand. And she screamed. Because that was a whole lot of boiling water on her eleven year old hands. Then mom screamed for me to go get an egg for her.

Which is totally fine, but dude! SHES YOUR DAUGHTER!! IF SHE WERE MINE, AND SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HERE BECAUSE OR NOT BECAUSE OF ME, I WOULDVE RAN OUT OF THE ROOM TO GET THE DAMNED EGG FOR HER, WITH OR WITHOUT SHOES. I mean, seriously. SHES IN PAIN. GO GET HER AN EGG. DONT ORDER OTHER PEOPLE TO DO IT.
Some of you might be thinking I didnt wanna help my sister, and am resenting the fact that I had to get up — nope, not that case. I ran outside, scrambling to get into my slippers, failed, tripped, went with the flow and ran/tripped out of the room to the fridge. To get the egg. Then, since she (my sister) was screaming+crying behind me, I broke the egg on the floor, and made her put her hand in it. Broke another one, and kind of massaged her hand with it — anyway, I’m pretty sure you guys dont wanna know more about that.

So I was tending to her, when mom calls out, still in the bedroom. Yes, she’s still there, not having enough heart to come out to check on her daughter. And I know — its not like she was having a serious injury or anything, but just think: when your hand gets burned, bitten, scratched, cut — doesnt it hurt? You’re the only one who can feel it, no one else can, but they still sympathize, they still help.

And this is an 11-year-old girl we’re talking about, whos already way too mature for her age. So mature, I sometimes feel like slapping it right out of her. 11 year old girls need to feel cared for, important, especially my sister. Just like little kids want a band aid for a non-existant cut, its nice to have someone fuss over us when we’re hurt.

So anyway, mom calls out to us, “Are you okay? Come here.”
Um, excuse me? But WHAT is wrong with you? YOU get your lazy butt here! I said that to her, “YOU come here.”
My sister did too, at the same time, so i was saved from a lecture.

But not for long.

As we were standing there — and this is where it all really starts — I asked my sister, “Is it better?”
I’ll repeat: I asked my sister.
I’ll repeat again, for people who are dense: I asked my sister.

And mom replies, “Ofcourse its not, put more egg.”
Um, dude? Dont know what it sounded like to YOUR ears, but I DIDNT ASK YOU.
I ASKED HER, THE PATIENT, THE INJURED PARTY, THE VICTIM OF YOUR STUPIDITY.

So I said that. “I didnt ask you. I asked her.”
And thats when all hell broke loose.

“Dont you talk to me like that” (although my tone was neutral and respectful-ish) “I am your mother! I know what shes feeling, I know more than you…you’re stupid and the worst daughter alive…nobodys gonna ever love you…your nails are ugly.”

Yeah, she didnt say the last part. But whatever. It still hurt, you know? Im used to hearing this kind of shit, like, everyday, but it still hurts, and i still cry, cry for the mom i remember from not that long ago who used to hold me, comfort me, make me feel loved and happy and whole.

Well you know what? I wont let you destroy me, cuz you cant destroy me if you’re not a part of me, right? So i’m casting you off.

We argued after that, like we always do. Me saying stuff like, if this were my fault, id be getting death glares right now and a non-stop stream of insults, and her saying, yeah, so what? im your mom, yada yada crap.

And she kept on with the very interesting (not) topic of yada yada-ness for like, an hour.

Then I escaped to my room, and like the pathetic little thing that I am, cried.

NOTE: Hate comments against my mom WILL be deleted and the poster will find himself/herself blocked from reading my blog. Not that its awesome or anything, so you wont be missing much.

Actually, come to think of it, you will.
I = awesomesauce.

EDIT:

I forgot to tell you, didnt I? I got hit 3 times for my outspoken and disrespectful attitude towards the Queen of Raving Mad Cows. Embarassing — if it wouldve been my fault. But it wasnt, so shame on HER.