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December 27, 1996
I've started today's entry 3 or 4 times already and deleted 'em all. Journalling on the web has the drawback of creating expectations that every entry will have that devastating wit or insight or just plain good writing. A bigger drawback is the accessibility of my words to anyone and everyone including those who might be offended by them. I'm not worried about offending strangers, nosirree. It's the family I have to watch out for. But why? They all know I don't cook, am a lazy bum with attitude, can never do enough... There's that theme again: enough. Can't do enough can't be enough... I don't even know where to start to give do be what the family needs or wants. I try within the limits of my ability. The problem is my ability is really limited. Even if I wanted to cook a holiday dinner, my oven's been broken for years. I'll have to buy a new range before I try hosting a family gathering. How have I lived this long without it? Simple - I never use it! I only cook things that can be prepared on top of the stove - nothing involving the oven. Not that I cook at home that much. I eat takeout or even eat out. A lot. Way too much. I could stretch this sabbatical out a lot longer if I didn't spend money on eating out. And oh poor me with my hands the way they are I can't chop vegetables or peel potatoes without pain. And when I try to wash dishes I drop them. It's one thing to break my own dishes but another to break the good china at the madre's. My hands were actually better for awhile but I seem to be having a problem with the new keyboard. I think I developed bad habits on the flat keyboard and now that I have the contoured one I'm hurting myself all over again . Also with this keyboard I have a tendency to actually rest my wrists on the built in wrist rest - which is a no-no for me. The wrist rest is for resting between bursts of typing - not during typing. Anyway, the thought of cooking for my family fills me with terror. And my condo is too small and there's no place to park and I live too far away from everybody except Donald and Michael. Excuses excuses excuses....
What brings on this frenzy of self deprecation? Simple. Thomas is tired of being the matriarch. He's tired of doing the cooking. His little outburst on Wednesday really stung because it pressed my "not enough" button. I spent some time yesterday writing down a chart of all the occasions that require family gatherings and the tasks that need to be done for each and tried to figure out how to distribute the hosting and cooking and coordinating... i guess that makes me the one doing the coordinating... does that make me the matriarch? Yikes! But it's just the way Thomas said it that made me feel like I'm supposed to take on that role. I am the big sister after all. The only sister in vast sea of brothers. I think I drove Billy to one too many hockey practices in my college/early adulthood years and the big sister thing just snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. Thou shalt take care of thy brothers. The 11th commandment.
I sit and contemplate what it would take to give be do enough. I haven't a clue.