Dear Friends and Family,
WARNING: I'm annoyed. If you're looking for shiny happy blog entry, I'd skip ahead to another blog or come back another day.
Okay. Let's start at the beginning.
My parents flew in on Friday for the weekend for P's birthday. They took a cab out to the office. We ate lunch together. I dropped them off to spend the afternoon with P.
My dad is on antibiotics for a cold (I know, that makes NO sense, but, that's what his doctor prescribed. That's what he's on). So, he shakes P's hand and then proceeds to spend the rest of the afternoon in the hallway so that he doesn't get anyone sick. Okay.
My mom is dying to spend quality time with P. She's frenetic in her desire to play with P. She's a little scary in her enthusiasm and P's having none of it. She proceeds to cry the afternoon away. And, we all know how P can cry - nonstop, for hours on end. And, she's convinced her BFFs to cry. So, there's three of them, in a circle, crying their lungs out, and my mom sitting in the corner. At which point, I decide to bag the afternoon and pick everyone up and head home.
We eat Italian for dinner because my dad wants lasagna. Then, my mom watches from the corner while P copes with the extra people in the house.
We make it through the evening in one piece.
Saturday. We wake somewhere between 7:30 and 8:30. Party is slated for 1:00. Ready? We come downstairs to find my dad on the couch. He's not feeling well. He wants to go home. He's ranting and raving he should have never come out in the first place except my mom made him. Ordinary people would be worried at this point because ordinary people don't know my dad. He's complaining that he can't breathe. We're like, seriously, you need us to drop everything and figure out a way to get you home? Cause, it's not like we has anything planned for this morning? Whatever.
We convince him to wait until my mom wakes up.
My mom sees right through him. But, she calls her friend who is a doctor to ask her to prescribe an inhalant for my dad. Coddle. Coddle. Coddle. So, now, Mr. mouse's top priority becomes finding a pharmacist and getting my dad's prescription filled when all he wants to do is get mail (thwarted Friday when I refused to be left alone another second with the circus). And, wouldn't you know it, in the interim while he's hunting down the prescription, there's an accident en route to the mailbox that makes a quick in and out a more significant to do. He's annoyed.
My mom figures she may as well make herself useful and begins cleaning and tidying. P decides to take a nap which is a lifesaver. I begin cleaning and tidying. My dad asks to borrow Mr. mouse's after shave. Mr. mouse doesn't use after shave. My dad is annoyed. He walks out in a huff to buy after shave. Whatever.
Everyone converges around 11. Mr. mouse is happy. My mom is happy. P is well rested and happy. My sister drove up and is happy. The house is ready. I am happy. My dad is fed. He is happy.
We have a wonderful party. Everyone shows up right at 1:00. My mom plays with every other baby in the house. We eat cupcakes, we play with toys, we laugh with parents. We distribute favors. Life is good.
We're all in wind down mode when my dad came up from the basement where he napped during the party. I don't know what his problem is. Actually, I can venture to guess at a macro level. But, I refuse to acknowledge the mean and petty and pathetic micro level specifics of a case by case incident. Well, he launches into my sister and me about we're not sensitive. We're not being nice to him. We're not sympathetic to his needs. Woe is me. My life is so difficult and no one has the courtesy to ask. This is the worst "hospitality" I've ever received ever. I've never felt less welcome anywhere.
Now, if I were 12 years old, I'd have run crying to my room. But, I'm like, what, almost 40? I'm ready to storm out, but then I remember, wait, I live here. I'm ready to kick him out, but then I figure that'll sour everyone's mood for the weekend and make it unredeemable. I swallow and listen and walk away. PISSED.
We all go out to dinner. My mom makes strides with P. We turn in for the night.
The next morning. It's the same old routine. He needs bread, he needs water, he needs butter. Can he do nothing? He launches into my sister and me again. This time while I'm holding P. Again, I refuse to even care what triggered this one. But, I'm clear with my mom and my sister. I'm done. I'll not have that language and that tone of voice in the house. I can blow it off. Mr. mouse will get annoyed, but he can blow it off. P can not. She'll learn stuff that I have no interest in her learning. MOMMA MOUSE IS MOVING TO PROTECT HER YOUNG. WORLD BEWARE.
My mom and my sister know where this is headed. They know when I've hit a breaking point. More importantly, my mom knows I will have no problem sharply curtailing or skipping holidays at home and keeping P here or hitting the road over the holidays. She knows I'm fine being selective in my invites. I'm explicit. If dad can't control his mouth, he has no business being in my house or anywhere near Pioneer forever.
My mom suggests getting bacon cause "your dad will like bacon" and eating in. So, my sister and Mr. mouse head out for bacon. We cook breakfast in. My mom heads to church. We head to the doctor's office for P's one year check up. My sister heads home. My dad stays home to rest and sulk.
We head out for the afternoon because it's a nice day out and we figure my dad will enjoy it. P warms to my mom. We make it through the evening in one piece. My mom and dad are headed home today. I am headed on my first business trip since P was born.
...
Okay. Grammar on this is a mess. I'll revisit tomorrow to fix it. And, I'll continue where I left off on where my head is at on all of this.
Cheers!
mouse
WARNING: I'm annoyed. If you're looking for shiny happy blog entry, I'd skip ahead to another blog or come back another day.
Okay. Let's start at the beginning.
My parents flew in on Friday for the weekend for P's birthday. They took a cab out to the office. We ate lunch together. I dropped them off to spend the afternoon with P.
My dad is on antibiotics for a cold (I know, that makes NO sense, but, that's what his doctor prescribed. That's what he's on). So, he shakes P's hand and then proceeds to spend the rest of the afternoon in the hallway so that he doesn't get anyone sick. Okay.
My mom is dying to spend quality time with P. She's frenetic in her desire to play with P. She's a little scary in her enthusiasm and P's having none of it. She proceeds to cry the afternoon away. And, we all know how P can cry - nonstop, for hours on end. And, she's convinced her BFFs to cry. So, there's three of them, in a circle, crying their lungs out, and my mom sitting in the corner. At which point, I decide to bag the afternoon and pick everyone up and head home.
We eat Italian for dinner because my dad wants lasagna. Then, my mom watches from the corner while P copes with the extra people in the house.
We make it through the evening in one piece.
Saturday. We wake somewhere between 7:30 and 8:30. Party is slated for 1:00. Ready? We come downstairs to find my dad on the couch. He's not feeling well. He wants to go home. He's ranting and raving he should have never come out in the first place except my mom made him. Ordinary people would be worried at this point because ordinary people don't know my dad. He's complaining that he can't breathe. We're like, seriously, you need us to drop everything and figure out a way to get you home? Cause, it's not like we has anything planned for this morning? Whatever.
We convince him to wait until my mom wakes up.
My mom sees right through him. But, she calls her friend who is a doctor to ask her to prescribe an inhalant for my dad. Coddle. Coddle. Coddle. So, now, Mr. mouse's top priority becomes finding a pharmacist and getting my dad's prescription filled when all he wants to do is get mail (thwarted Friday when I refused to be left alone another second with the circus). And, wouldn't you know it, in the interim while he's hunting down the prescription, there's an accident en route to the mailbox that makes a quick in and out a more significant to do. He's annoyed.
My mom figures she may as well make herself useful and begins cleaning and tidying. P decides to take a nap which is a lifesaver. I begin cleaning and tidying. My dad asks to borrow Mr. mouse's after shave. Mr. mouse doesn't use after shave. My dad is annoyed. He walks out in a huff to buy after shave. Whatever.
Everyone converges around 11. Mr. mouse is happy. My mom is happy. P is well rested and happy. My sister drove up and is happy. The house is ready. I am happy. My dad is fed. He is happy.
We have a wonderful party. Everyone shows up right at 1:00. My mom plays with every other baby in the house. We eat cupcakes, we play with toys, we laugh with parents. We distribute favors. Life is good.
We're all in wind down mode when my dad came up from the basement where he napped during the party. I don't know what his problem is. Actually, I can venture to guess at a macro level. But, I refuse to acknowledge the mean and petty and pathetic micro level specifics of a case by case incident. Well, he launches into my sister and me about we're not sensitive. We're not being nice to him. We're not sympathetic to his needs. Woe is me. My life is so difficult and no one has the courtesy to ask. This is the worst "hospitality" I've ever received ever. I've never felt less welcome anywhere.
Now, if I were 12 years old, I'd have run crying to my room. But, I'm like, what, almost 40? I'm ready to storm out, but then I remember, wait, I live here. I'm ready to kick him out, but then I figure that'll sour everyone's mood for the weekend and make it unredeemable. I swallow and listen and walk away. PISSED.
We all go out to dinner. My mom makes strides with P. We turn in for the night.
The next morning. It's the same old routine. He needs bread, he needs water, he needs butter. Can he do nothing? He launches into my sister and me again. This time while I'm holding P. Again, I refuse to even care what triggered this one. But, I'm clear with my mom and my sister. I'm done. I'll not have that language and that tone of voice in the house. I can blow it off. Mr. mouse will get annoyed, but he can blow it off. P can not. She'll learn stuff that I have no interest in her learning. MOMMA MOUSE IS MOVING TO PROTECT HER YOUNG. WORLD BEWARE.
My mom and my sister know where this is headed. They know when I've hit a breaking point. More importantly, my mom knows I will have no problem sharply curtailing or skipping holidays at home and keeping P here or hitting the road over the holidays. She knows I'm fine being selective in my invites. I'm explicit. If dad can't control his mouth, he has no business being in my house or anywhere near Pioneer forever.
My mom suggests getting bacon cause "your dad will like bacon" and eating in. So, my sister and Mr. mouse head out for bacon. We cook breakfast in. My mom heads to church. We head to the doctor's office for P's one year check up. My sister heads home. My dad stays home to rest and sulk.
We head out for the afternoon because it's a nice day out and we figure my dad will enjoy it. P warms to my mom. We make it through the evening in one piece. My mom and dad are headed home today. I am headed on my first business trip since P was born.
...
Okay. Grammar on this is a mess. I'll revisit tomorrow to fix it. And, I'll continue where I left off on where my head is at on all of this.
Cheers!
mouse
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