My mother comes over on Wednesdays, ostensibly to help me for the day with the babies and to visit. Usually, however, these visits entail me having to wait on her hand and foot.
"If you'd make some tea, I'd be happy to drink some." Sure, I'd love some fresh tea. I've only reheated mine four times now.
"There are some bags in the back of my car that you could get." This while I'm trying to nurse the Bug and trying to stop Boo from squeezing the cat to death/colouring on the walls/eating crayons.
"What can you fix me for lunch?" Half-eaten mac & cheese. Half-eaten peanut butter & jelly. Half-eaten apples and cheese. Are you sensing a half-eaten theme here?
"How about a glass of water?" How about one?
"When are you going to move those boxes/set up Boo's bed/put up the playpen?" Shut. Up.
"I wish you'd re-arrange your bedroom the way I think it should be." I'll get right on that - I mean, really, I have nothing else to do.
"Do you want me to buy you a new dish drainboard? I just hate yours." Um, NO, mother. I LIKE it and YOU never do dishes. And, hello? MY house. Mine.
It's driving me crazy. How do I confront her about this, though? I mean, she's driving an hour out here, once a week. But this prima donna routine is getting old. I am so frazzled with taking care of the babies and O and TCBIM, who is now working TWO jobs, so is really never, ever, ever home, that I cannot add an able-bodied adult to the mix. I just can't. No amount of "Could you please get it yourself? I'm rather busy right now," does any good. She just says "I'll wait."
Seriously, people, I'm losing my mind.
In other news, I am going to New York City at the end of March and I cannot fucking WAIT! Cannot. Wait. I need a break so badly that it's not funny. I'm taking O, but leaving the babies home with TCBIM. Hah. HAH! Wait, what's that I'm feeling? I do believe it's glee. Yes. Glee. That would about cover it.
Ahhhhh. New York City. How do I love thee?