Proof that My Mother Hates Me
She left me!!
It's been about a week since my mom and dad flew back to Georgia which only solidifies my once loosely held belief that my mother does indeed hate me. I mean, shes the one orchestrating all the travel arrangements--she could have delayed or all around cancelled her flight home but instead she gave me some excuse that she had to go back to work and run a company. I saw the emails, I heard the phone conversations, I know she could run that paving company from my kitchen sink if she really wanted to.
I mean, sure. She maybe did three loads of laundry a day while she was here. And she might have happily agreed to watch the girls for Dom and I while we went on our anniversary trip and have washed and cleaned my car while I was gone. Okay, sure. All that happened. And fine, so she flew my dad in as a surprise for me so he could see our new house and be here for Line's one year old birthday party (which she totally planned and orchestrated herself). But all of that means nothing because she left me.
Now, now, now. Before you go thinking, "Wow, your mom sounds awesome! What kind of spoiled brat are you to be complaining," let me ask you this: Do you know how hard it is to resume responsibility for your children when you've been able to all but neglect them for 8 days? Lemme tell you, it's terrible.
First of all, I'm almost four months pregnant and somewhere in those eight days I gained my basset hound sense of smell that all pregnant moms are so pumped about and the once merely gross dirty diapers of my children have become a twice-daily test on my gag reflexes. When Gummie and Pawpaw were here I'd just leave the room until one of them noticed my kid reeking of last nights barely digested dinner, now I have no where to hide. The girls find me. And smile knowingly.
Secondly, I've had to relearn my laundry routine (AKA-pile it all up and do it in one day and pray I get it all folded while the girls are napping and I'm catching up on True Blood). Do you know how many clothes little girls go through? And D has decided he wants to start working out, which is fantastic but I'm going to recommend he either do in in his work clothes or that he just wear gym shorts and a t-shirt to the office, 'casue Momma don't need the extra load.
Another reason that I know my mother hates me and wants me to be miserable is because when she was here she did all of my cleaning. Um, hello?! Who is supposed to clean this house now? In the same week I developed my scary smelling ability I also doubled in size, making any and all housework a chore. I literally got out of breath the other day tying my shoe. My shoe, people!
Do you know the amount of bending involved in dusting/vacuuming/etc.?! I mean, I haven't done it in a while, but I've heard things....
See, all of these are proof that my mother hates me. She is incredibly helpful when shes here but shes basically just setting me up for failure until the next time she comes into town and takes conrtol of my life.
Mom, if you're reading this please come back and take over my life! If not, I'll take it up with her in September when I go home for two weeks and dump my kids on her again.
**Disclaimer. I thank God for my family, here and in Georgia. I've been blessed with the best parents in the world and if our girls love and respect D and I as much as I do them, we've got it made in the shade. And any of the "good mommy" moments I may have (there have been a couple!!!) can be traced directly back to the example set by my mom. And I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually hate me...she just might love my kids (and my nephews...and my sisters...and my husband...and my friends) more than she does me.
It's been about a week since my mom and dad flew back to Georgia which only solidifies my once loosely held belief that my mother does indeed hate me. I mean, shes the one orchestrating all the travel arrangements--she could have delayed or all around cancelled her flight home but instead she gave me some excuse that she had to go back to work and run a company. I saw the emails, I heard the phone conversations, I know she could run that paving company from my kitchen sink if she really wanted to.
I mean, sure. She maybe did three loads of laundry a day while she was here. And she might have happily agreed to watch the girls for Dom and I while we went on our anniversary trip and have washed and cleaned my car while I was gone. Okay, sure. All that happened. And fine, so she flew my dad in as a surprise for me so he could see our new house and be here for Line's one year old birthday party (which she totally planned and orchestrated herself). But all of that means nothing because she left me.
Now, now, now. Before you go thinking, "Wow, your mom sounds awesome! What kind of spoiled brat are you to be complaining," let me ask you this: Do you know how hard it is to resume responsibility for your children when you've been able to all but neglect them for 8 days? Lemme tell you, it's terrible.
First of all, I'm almost four months pregnant and somewhere in those eight days I gained my basset hound sense of smell that all pregnant moms are so pumped about and the once merely gross dirty diapers of my children have become a twice-daily test on my gag reflexes. When Gummie and Pawpaw were here I'd just leave the room until one of them noticed my kid reeking of last nights barely digested dinner, now I have no where to hide. The girls find me. And smile knowingly.
Secondly, I've had to relearn my laundry routine (AKA-pile it all up and do it in one day and pray I get it all folded while the girls are napping and I'm catching up on True Blood). Do you know how many clothes little girls go through? And D has decided he wants to start working out, which is fantastic but I'm going to recommend he either do in in his work clothes or that he just wear gym shorts and a t-shirt to the office, 'casue Momma don't need the extra load.
Another reason that I know my mother hates me and wants me to be miserable is because when she was here she did all of my cleaning. Um, hello?! Who is supposed to clean this house now? In the same week I developed my scary smelling ability I also doubled in size, making any and all housework a chore. I literally got out of breath the other day tying my shoe. My shoe, people!
Do you know the amount of bending involved in dusting/vacuuming/etc.?! I mean, I haven't done it in a while, but I've heard things....
See, all of these are proof that my mother hates me. She is incredibly helpful when shes here but shes basically just setting me up for failure until the next time she comes into town and takes conrtol of my life.
Mom, if you're reading this please come back and take over my life! If not, I'll take it up with her in September when I go home for two weeks and dump my kids on her again.
**Disclaimer. I thank God for my family, here and in Georgia. I've been blessed with the best parents in the world and if our girls love and respect D and I as much as I do them, we've got it made in the shade. And any of the "good mommy" moments I may have (there have been a couple!!!) can be traced directly back to the example set by my mom. And I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually hate me...she just might love my kids (and my nephews...and my sisters...and my husband...and my friends) more than she does me.
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