I wish I had a soundproof room ... so I can scream as loud and as long as I want without freaking out my neighbors. I'm going to have to add that to my list of things to do in my new house. Any contractors out there reading this blog that wanna give me a good deal?
Mom has been staying with me since October 26th ... she finally goes home on the 21st. I swear I've gotten more wrinkles and white hairs since she's been here than during my divorce. Mom and I have never gotten along well. I was Daddy's Little Girl, and she openly resented that. I got to the point where I would never talk to her, because no matter what I said or did, it wasn't good enough for her. As I grew up, moved out, and had children, our relationship never really changed. Then Dad passed away in June 2000, and with my subsequent divorce, I moved here to Wisconsin in August 2002. I do send the obligatory birthday/mother's day/Christmas card, but other than that, we never really talked to each other. Not that I wouldn't try, but within 2 minutes of my calling her, she'd start in with the critcism/nagging. And it got to the point that I figured why bother?
Suffice it to say, I was shocked when she called up to say she was coming to visit me. And she was staying for three entire months. It's been rough, but had it's good times too. I'm just ready for her to go back home, and resume our normal non-talking, half-of-the-continental-United-States-and-entire-Pacific-Ocean-between-us relationship. I love her, I really do, but we just aren't meant to live together.
I am a divorced mom, with 2 children, and I work full-time. When I get home from work, all I want to do is be with my kids, have a good dinner, put them to bed, then relax on my couch. Since she's been here, it's complete mayhem. She doesn't limit her nagging just to me, the minute my kids walk into MY house, she starts picking at them, then they get crabby, I get crabby, and there goes my whole day. The minute I get them settled (after dinner, homework, a bath and one-on-one time) and sit down to relax, she starts in on me all over again. What I'm doing wrong. What my kids are doing wrong. How I should do this, that, everything under the sun. I can barely take much more of it.
My closest relative is Dad's brother in Texas, whom I've only met once in my entire life. My brothers and sisters in Hawaii with Mom. I guess you could say I've always been the black sheep of the family. Which is very weird, because I'm the only one that got good grades, did my chores, and complied with my parent's rules. But I always knew that if and when Dad died, that would be "it" for me and my family.
I hate to air dirty laundry, but it's been a loooooooong and trying time with Mom here, and I'm just so happy that it's coming to an end. I feel rather guilty for feeling this way, especially when the kids give each other high five's when they countdown the days 'til gramma's gone.
So I'm gonna sit here, listen to Come Away With Me by Norah Jones, sip my Diet Coke with Malibu, and surf blogs at Blog Explosion. 7 days left ...
