Marisa6826
04-09-2004, 11:43 PM
OK, so some of you might fondly remember my somewhat psychotic mother from the last time I was bitching about her.
Well, she's been better since being on her "happy cat" pills a/k/a Prozac, and she came up three weeks ago from Florida to help me with Sophie when I became very ill (thought I had just a cold, ended up with severe dehydration and blacked out home alone with Sophie - but that's another story).
So, since she was so well behaved on her last visit, we decided to have her come up for Easter. She was holding my Grandmother's silver and china for me until we had a house, so she decided to drive up with her mongrel dog instead of paying to ship it up ( we bought her a round trip one week plane ticket).
The fun and games began last Sunday when she got here with her aforementioned beast dog. Despite me telling her that her dog (a ill-behaved Westie) was NOT welcome (one of my Frenchies is not dog-friendly), she decided that he would be "good company" for the ride. I asked her AGAIN not to bring him into the house once she arrived, she poo-pooed my request, brought him in, and my Frenchie promptly went for his throat. Sophie was afraid of him since he's so much larger than the Pigdogs, so she started to cry while my mother was forcing Sophie's little hand to pet her dog to show her "how nice" he was.
We were able to find a dog sitter through my old vet, but we had to drive the dog to Jersey City. NOT a nice ride. She had no clue where she was going. Fortunately, I knew the area. Had to stop cooking dinner right in the middle to escort her and her canine companion, and then come back an HOUR later. Dinner was served at 9:45 that evening.
The next several days, things got progressively worse. She took it upon herself to harrass my contractor about "how slowly he moves his ass, and it's no wonder my kitchen isn't done yet". She then proceeded to follow him around the house and tell him how things were done in Florida. Again and again, I asked her not to talk to the workers, to mind her own business and that the arrangement with the contractor was between me and him NOT her.
One afternoon I left her here with Sophie and she got into a confrontation with him and he ended up walking off the job. Needless to say, Easter is now Sunday, and he didn't show up at all today.
Yesterday morning, she came into the kitchen where I was feeding Sophie. She proceeded to start making Sophie eggs telling her, "Grandma will feed you a good breakfast, not the crap your Mother feeds you everyday and calls it food". Sophie's breakfast I was feeding her? An orange, Cheerios, some cheese, raisins and diluted apple juice. I asked that she not criticise me in front of my daughter, especially since she will continue the habit and Sophie will catch on to her behaviour. She told me that if I was a proper Mother, she wouldn't HAVE to criticise me.
I admit that the main reason I had her come up was to initially help me sew curtains so the house would be done for Sunday (having 10 relatives and best friends coming for dinner). I just never got around to doing it. And the more she rode me about it, the more I resisted getting the work done. I kept reiterating that her priorities are not mine. It's my house, she's a guest here, and the bottom line is that it will not be some big family skeleton that I didn't have curtains and artwork on the walls for Easter 2004. She said it mattered to HER and that it was a poor reflection that I haven't made an effort since, afterall, I'm home everyday.
She walked out yesterday for about six hours. She came back, and she started in again. I finally let her have it. I spent the evening in the basement watching Survivor and ER avoiding her. She took all the china and silver out of the trunk and left it on my front porch. Jonathan brought it in when he came home.
This morning, I was ready to overlook everything just to get through the weekend. She came down into the kitchen, and started going on about how I have a lot of issues that I can't seem to address, and that I'm the one that has problems dealing with her. Not the other way around. I let the words fly, it got tremendously ugly. She went upstairs, I took a shower. She banged on the door before she planned on leaving and told me that it was once again all my fault. We rehashed everything about how my priorities don't seem to matter, because hers are obviously the right ones. I told her that my priority is my child, not making my home a magazine to impress my friends and family (and for the record, the house looks pretty damn good even without the finishing touches).
I told her that unless she could find a way to behave herself she was not welcome in our lives because I would not have Sophie thinking that she did something to provoke Grandma's walking out routines. She said that Sophie has no clue about who comes and goes. I told her that was total crap, because I'm the one that has to watch Sophie toddle in and out of the guest room looking for Grandma to play with. And that in six months she would TOTALLY understand what was going on.
HERE"S THE KICKER.
My Mother then replies, "Well I'm not going to be here in six months". WTF? I asked her what the hell that was supposed to mean. She said, again, she wouldn't be HERE in six months. I asked what was wrong with her and she tried to force her way past me (I was physically blocking the doorway at this point). I told her that there was no way in hell that she was dropping a bomb like that and then walking out. She said that "they" (whoever "they" are) don't know what's wrong and that she won't be here anymore. I asked her if she was planning on killing herself. She said no and then said that she just "knows" she will be dead within six months. Now, I don't know if this is one of her kooky psychic things, or what. But in my experience, psychics won't dole out negative information - especially if it's that personal.
So she left.
I went into her room and she left all of her medicine. I got her to come back for it and she left without another word. Until she called me to tell me that she planned on leaving her mongrel at the dog sitter and it was MY responsibility to find him a new home. I said, "what, you're dumping your dog?" and she said that she didn't care about him, and he needed a better home.
I called Westie rescue and got a machine. I called the dog sitter and somehow my Mother got a hold of her, came and got the dog, telling the sitter that she was going to take him back to Florida and give him to the rescue she got him from.
Tonight she called to inform me that, once again it's all my fault, and that she did nothing wrong, I have an eating disorder and a negative personality.
I was diagnosed this afternoon with acute TMJ, exacerbated by stress. Wonder why.
Oh yeah, and you wonder why I live five states away?
If you've made it this far, I thank you.
Hug your kids and swear you won't turn into your parent. ;)
-m
Well, she's been better since being on her "happy cat" pills a/k/a Prozac, and she came up three weeks ago from Florida to help me with Sophie when I became very ill (thought I had just a cold, ended up with severe dehydration and blacked out home alone with Sophie - but that's another story).
So, since she was so well behaved on her last visit, we decided to have her come up for Easter. She was holding my Grandmother's silver and china for me until we had a house, so she decided to drive up with her mongrel dog instead of paying to ship it up ( we bought her a round trip one week plane ticket).
The fun and games began last Sunday when she got here with her aforementioned beast dog. Despite me telling her that her dog (a ill-behaved Westie) was NOT welcome (one of my Frenchies is not dog-friendly), she decided that he would be "good company" for the ride. I asked her AGAIN not to bring him into the house once she arrived, she poo-pooed my request, brought him in, and my Frenchie promptly went for his throat. Sophie was afraid of him since he's so much larger than the Pigdogs, so she started to cry while my mother was forcing Sophie's little hand to pet her dog to show her "how nice" he was.
We were able to find a dog sitter through my old vet, but we had to drive the dog to Jersey City. NOT a nice ride. She had no clue where she was going. Fortunately, I knew the area. Had to stop cooking dinner right in the middle to escort her and her canine companion, and then come back an HOUR later. Dinner was served at 9:45 that evening.
The next several days, things got progressively worse. She took it upon herself to harrass my contractor about "how slowly he moves his ass, and it's no wonder my kitchen isn't done yet". She then proceeded to follow him around the house and tell him how things were done in Florida. Again and again, I asked her not to talk to the workers, to mind her own business and that the arrangement with the contractor was between me and him NOT her.
One afternoon I left her here with Sophie and she got into a confrontation with him and he ended up walking off the job. Needless to say, Easter is now Sunday, and he didn't show up at all today.
Yesterday morning, she came into the kitchen where I was feeding Sophie. She proceeded to start making Sophie eggs telling her, "Grandma will feed you a good breakfast, not the crap your Mother feeds you everyday and calls it food". Sophie's breakfast I was feeding her? An orange, Cheerios, some cheese, raisins and diluted apple juice. I asked that she not criticise me in front of my daughter, especially since she will continue the habit and Sophie will catch on to her behaviour. She told me that if I was a proper Mother, she wouldn't HAVE to criticise me.
I admit that the main reason I had her come up was to initially help me sew curtains so the house would be done for Sunday (having 10 relatives and best friends coming for dinner). I just never got around to doing it. And the more she rode me about it, the more I resisted getting the work done. I kept reiterating that her priorities are not mine. It's my house, she's a guest here, and the bottom line is that it will not be some big family skeleton that I didn't have curtains and artwork on the walls for Easter 2004. She said it mattered to HER and that it was a poor reflection that I haven't made an effort since, afterall, I'm home everyday.
She walked out yesterday for about six hours. She came back, and she started in again. I finally let her have it. I spent the evening in the basement watching Survivor and ER avoiding her. She took all the china and silver out of the trunk and left it on my front porch. Jonathan brought it in when he came home.
This morning, I was ready to overlook everything just to get through the weekend. She came down into the kitchen, and started going on about how I have a lot of issues that I can't seem to address, and that I'm the one that has problems dealing with her. Not the other way around. I let the words fly, it got tremendously ugly. She went upstairs, I took a shower. She banged on the door before she planned on leaving and told me that it was once again all my fault. We rehashed everything about how my priorities don't seem to matter, because hers are obviously the right ones. I told her that my priority is my child, not making my home a magazine to impress my friends and family (and for the record, the house looks pretty damn good even without the finishing touches).
I told her that unless she could find a way to behave herself she was not welcome in our lives because I would not have Sophie thinking that she did something to provoke Grandma's walking out routines. She said that Sophie has no clue about who comes and goes. I told her that was total crap, because I'm the one that has to watch Sophie toddle in and out of the guest room looking for Grandma to play with. And that in six months she would TOTALLY understand what was going on.
HERE"S THE KICKER.
My Mother then replies, "Well I'm not going to be here in six months". WTF? I asked her what the hell that was supposed to mean. She said, again, she wouldn't be HERE in six months. I asked what was wrong with her and she tried to force her way past me (I was physically blocking the doorway at this point). I told her that there was no way in hell that she was dropping a bomb like that and then walking out. She said that "they" (whoever "they" are) don't know what's wrong and that she won't be here anymore. I asked her if she was planning on killing herself. She said no and then said that she just "knows" she will be dead within six months. Now, I don't know if this is one of her kooky psychic things, or what. But in my experience, psychics won't dole out negative information - especially if it's that personal.
So she left.
I went into her room and she left all of her medicine. I got her to come back for it and she left without another word. Until she called me to tell me that she planned on leaving her mongrel at the dog sitter and it was MY responsibility to find him a new home. I said, "what, you're dumping your dog?" and she said that she didn't care about him, and he needed a better home.
I called Westie rescue and got a machine. I called the dog sitter and somehow my Mother got a hold of her, came and got the dog, telling the sitter that she was going to take him back to Florida and give him to the rescue she got him from.
Tonight she called to inform me that, once again it's all my fault, and that she did nothing wrong, I have an eating disorder and a negative personality.
I was diagnosed this afternoon with acute TMJ, exacerbated by stress. Wonder why.
Oh yeah, and you wonder why I live five states away?
If you've made it this far, I thank you.
Hug your kids and swear you won't turn into your parent. ;)
-m