No Regrets

So.

My mom called last night. She has changed her mind, promises to behave appropriately regardless of Sweet Pea's gender, and wants a phone call with the verdict.

Um. Okay.

Here's the deal. My mom is terrible at pretending to be okay with something. Not that she's a bad liar or actress, she just doesn't bother pretending. She is also really good at pushing my buttons. She knows exactly what to say and how to say it to rile me up. She almost seems to enjoy it at times.

She says that she was more convinced it was a girl when I was pregnant with Will, so she was both surprised and disappointed when it was a boy. For some reason, the gender isn't "as important" to her this time around. She apologized and admitted her past behavior was "not something to be proud of." This is a first. Whenever we've discussed her reaction previously, she has always justified it.

M is very opposed to me calling my mom. He has very good reason and a lot of history to back his stance up. From our engagement to our wedding, to Will's gender announcement to his birth, my mom has always tried to ruin the big moments of our life together. She isn't even subtle about it. This was the first time I have put on my "big girl panties" and refused to play the game.

But one not-so-small indisputable fact remains. This is my mom. Thirty years ago, this woman was pregnant with me. For the past 30 years, she has been my mom, for better or worse. Our rocky relationship really didn't start until I was out on my own. in my young twenties. For over two-thirds of my life, we had a wonderful relationship. Even with the negativity, I would still classify our relationship as decent. I love her. She loves me. She is my mother and the grandmother of this baby.

I don't really see how I cannot call her.

I just hope I don't regret it.