mom trash talk
It's the time I know you've all been waiting for - time to complain about my mother.
She just left a half hour ago and I've never been so happy to see the back of her. She arrived yesterday about noon and I think my blood pressure has been about double since she got here. She came on a Monday because GMInor had a recital Monday night. So, obviously, it makes sense that for a 6:30 pm recital, she should arrive at 12:30, just in case of traffic.
Needless to say, I haven't got a scrap of work done in the last two days, so that's basically $400 of income that just didn't happen. She wanted to "help" and I asked if she could please throw in a load of laundry to wash my jeans. (and you know I must be desperate if I let her touch my laundry.) She has since done three loads of laundry, all in various states of completion all over the house and - you guessed it - not one of them actually contains my jeans. I have clean sheets though. Not dry yet, but clean. So tonight, rather than desperately trying to make money and catch up on work, I will be dealing with 85 lbs of laundry.
Of course, I may cave and decide to brave the basement. Because life got a little busy around here, Christmas stuff was taken to the basement, but not actually put away properly or wrapped or anything. It was just plopped there until I had time to get to it. Last weekend, GMajor got frustrated with it and stuffed it in bins and shoved it under the stairs. Today, after I specifically asked her not to, my mom took the rest of the Christmas flotsom and moved it from its basement dumping ground location to a *different* basement dumping ground location. One that most likely involves being placed on shelves where they can later fall on my head - my personal favourite - or perhaps somewhere they can be stepped on or peed on by my various pets.
I know that people often use the weather as a safe topic of conversation when other topics are too volatile. In our case, the weather is now off limits! Let me explain. For several weeks now, GMInor has been complaining of headaches and tummy aches. She's been to the doctor and had various tests and I am in contact with her teachers to try and figure out what's going on as these are classic anxiety symptoms. So far, it remains a puzzle, but we are back to the doctor next week. My mother insists that it's the weather. Everything, in fact, stems from the weather. She says, "Well I had a headache yesterday and it was snowing, so that's probably what was causing GMinor's stomach ache." Really? It was snowing so GMinor has a stomach ache? Why don't we just pull out the leeches and maybe have a seance? That will cure her in no time! Look, I realize that some barametric weather changes can contribute to headaches and other aches and pains, but I have a hard time accepting that snowstoms are responsible for stomach ailments in nine year olds. And you have to understand that *every* phone call and *every* visit, she Must Make Her Point. It *never* ends.
Yesterday, when I was trying to work with GMajor at his computer beside me and GMinor and my mom in the Wii room down the hall, I ran out of patience and escaped downstairs to watch tv for half an hour. I was only there for 5 minutes when my mom followed my and exclaimed, "I just can't believe I'm seeing you watching tv when you have so much work to do!" *head desk*
The best so far has been the wake up call at 1:30 this morning. I heard GMInor get up at 1:30 am and use the bathroom, and then start going downstairs. I should explain that my mom insists on sleeping on our couch in the living room, rather than in the guest room because she feels it disturbs us less. This makes no sense, but there you go. Anyway, I dashed out of bed and caught her before she went downstairs. Apparently she planned to go and cuddle with her grandmother and read a magazine by flashlight with her. When I insisted that she return to bed, she burst into tears, explained how terrible a parent I was being and then, after waking everyone up and taking me over a hour to calm her down, eventually fell back asleep. I found out this morning that my mom had discussed this with her the night before and that they had actually *planned* this! Actually *planned* for GMinor to wake up in the middle of the night on a school night and wander downstairs in the dark so they could read by flashlight! This is some kind of crazy slumber party!
And finally, you may recall that last time we went to my mom's condo, she fed my dog a roll with green onions. I saw her do this, but I was trapped behind the table and couldn't get out. I was saying to her, "Mom, don't give that to her! Onions are toxic to dogs. Can you take that away please!" And, while the dog is wolfing down the muffin, she's saying, "Let me explain something to you. You see, it was only a tiny little bit and she's a big dog. It's fine. Don't worry so much." So, after spending the rest of the afternoon cleaning up dog vomit, she agreed to never give the dog anything again without checking with us first. Yesterday, GMinor was at the table eating a snack - a raisin pita with peanut butter. The dog came in from outside and walked over to GMinor and snagged the pita right out of her hand. My mom and GMinor thought this was hilarious. They called me down to tall me about this funny thing that happened. "Hey mom, Rosie just grabbed food right out of my hand! Isn't that hilarious?" And my mom added, "It was nice that she didn't bite GMinor's fingers." Holy shitballs people! The dog is NOT supposed to do that! Why didn't you yell at her? And raisins? Also a big no-no for dogs! But I get the same argument again. It's only a couple of raisins. She's a big dog; it will be fine. And how do you know this mom? "It's logical," she says. Well, my research says that as few as 10 raisins can kill a dog. Maybe that's true - maybe it isn't, but I like my dog and I'd rather not kill her, so I don't let her have raisins.
There was so many more incidents, but I just can't write anymore. Suffice to say and sometimes 90 minutes away is too close.
She just left a half hour ago and I've never been so happy to see the back of her. She arrived yesterday about noon and I think my blood pressure has been about double since she got here. She came on a Monday because GMInor had a recital Monday night. So, obviously, it makes sense that for a 6:30 pm recital, she should arrive at 12:30, just in case of traffic.
Needless to say, I haven't got a scrap of work done in the last two days, so that's basically $400 of income that just didn't happen. She wanted to "help" and I asked if she could please throw in a load of laundry to wash my jeans. (and you know I must be desperate if I let her touch my laundry.) She has since done three loads of laundry, all in various states of completion all over the house and - you guessed it - not one of them actually contains my jeans. I have clean sheets though. Not dry yet, but clean. So tonight, rather than desperately trying to make money and catch up on work, I will be dealing with 85 lbs of laundry.
Of course, I may cave and decide to brave the basement. Because life got a little busy around here, Christmas stuff was taken to the basement, but not actually put away properly or wrapped or anything. It was just plopped there until I had time to get to it. Last weekend, GMajor got frustrated with it and stuffed it in bins and shoved it under the stairs. Today, after I specifically asked her not to, my mom took the rest of the Christmas flotsom and moved it from its basement dumping ground location to a *different* basement dumping ground location. One that most likely involves being placed on shelves where they can later fall on my head - my personal favourite - or perhaps somewhere they can be stepped on or peed on by my various pets.
I know that people often use the weather as a safe topic of conversation when other topics are too volatile. In our case, the weather is now off limits! Let me explain. For several weeks now, GMInor has been complaining of headaches and tummy aches. She's been to the doctor and had various tests and I am in contact with her teachers to try and figure out what's going on as these are classic anxiety symptoms. So far, it remains a puzzle, but we are back to the doctor next week. My mother insists that it's the weather. Everything, in fact, stems from the weather. She says, "Well I had a headache yesterday and it was snowing, so that's probably what was causing GMinor's stomach ache." Really? It was snowing so GMinor has a stomach ache? Why don't we just pull out the leeches and maybe have a seance? That will cure her in no time! Look, I realize that some barametric weather changes can contribute to headaches and other aches and pains, but I have a hard time accepting that snowstoms are responsible for stomach ailments in nine year olds. And you have to understand that *every* phone call and *every* visit, she Must Make Her Point. It *never* ends.
Yesterday, when I was trying to work with GMajor at his computer beside me and GMinor and my mom in the Wii room down the hall, I ran out of patience and escaped downstairs to watch tv for half an hour. I was only there for 5 minutes when my mom followed my and exclaimed, "I just can't believe I'm seeing you watching tv when you have so much work to do!" *head desk*
The best so far has been the wake up call at 1:30 this morning. I heard GMInor get up at 1:30 am and use the bathroom, and then start going downstairs. I should explain that my mom insists on sleeping on our couch in the living room, rather than in the guest room because she feels it disturbs us less. This makes no sense, but there you go. Anyway, I dashed out of bed and caught her before she went downstairs. Apparently she planned to go and cuddle with her grandmother and read a magazine by flashlight with her. When I insisted that she return to bed, she burst into tears, explained how terrible a parent I was being and then, after waking everyone up and taking me over a hour to calm her down, eventually fell back asleep. I found out this morning that my mom had discussed this with her the night before and that they had actually *planned* this! Actually *planned* for GMinor to wake up in the middle of the night on a school night and wander downstairs in the dark so they could read by flashlight! This is some kind of crazy slumber party!
And finally, you may recall that last time we went to my mom's condo, she fed my dog a roll with green onions. I saw her do this, but I was trapped behind the table and couldn't get out. I was saying to her, "Mom, don't give that to her! Onions are toxic to dogs. Can you take that away please!" And, while the dog is wolfing down the muffin, she's saying, "Let me explain something to you. You see, it was only a tiny little bit and she's a big dog. It's fine. Don't worry so much." So, after spending the rest of the afternoon cleaning up dog vomit, she agreed to never give the dog anything again without checking with us first. Yesterday, GMinor was at the table eating a snack - a raisin pita with peanut butter. The dog came in from outside and walked over to GMinor and snagged the pita right out of her hand. My mom and GMinor thought this was hilarious. They called me down to tall me about this funny thing that happened. "Hey mom, Rosie just grabbed food right out of my hand! Isn't that hilarious?" And my mom added, "It was nice that she didn't bite GMinor's fingers." Holy shitballs people! The dog is NOT supposed to do that! Why didn't you yell at her? And raisins? Also a big no-no for dogs! But I get the same argument again. It's only a couple of raisins. She's a big dog; it will be fine. And how do you know this mom? "It's logical," she says. Well, my research says that as few as 10 raisins can kill a dog. Maybe that's true - maybe it isn't, but I like my dog and I'd rather not kill her, so I don't let her have raisins.
There was so many more incidents, but I just can't write anymore. Suffice to say and sometimes 90 minutes away is too close.