It’s only Day 4 of Mom staying with us and I’m ready to gouge my ears out.
She was annoyed with Hubby and me last night because we didn’t drive her across town (30 minutes) to see a mobile home in her old park. Hubby spent a good bit of yesterday shuttling her to doctor and lab appointments with cranky Peanut in tow while I was at work. He called me while they were waiting at the pharmacy – Peanut was in his carseat screaming for Gramma so they could go home. Twenty minutes later, Mom came out and informed Hubby they wouldn’t have her prescription until later in the day. I picked it up on my way home while Hubby escaped to the grocery store.
She “emptied the dishwasher” which involved putting away the flatware and glasses and putting just about everything else on the counters since she didn’t know the stuff went and looking in the cabinets was too difficult. We appreciate that she wants to help, but some things end up being more of a hassle than a help.
Last night she pulled her old passive aggressive crap on Hubby who was up late playing on the computer. “Don’t you think you should go to bed so you can get up early? I want to be at the lab first thing in the morning.” Because dropping his mother-in-law off at the blood lab at the ass-crack of dawn is exactly what Hubby wants to do on his freakin’ birthday. Once he dropped her off, she wanted him and Peanut to wait until she was finished and her friend came to meet her.
She’s been doling out lots of parenting advice. This morning’s gem to Hubby was “Do you really need to do that?” as he wrangled a screaming Peanut into position to brush his teeth. Did I mention she wears dentures?
She’s back to hounding us to babysit Peanut. (I have lost count of how many times we’ve beaten that dead horse.) This morning she admitted she’s rapid cycling, but that won’t stop her. Her physical limitations don’t instill confidence in her child caring capabilities, either. One minute she can barely move from the pain in her leg, and the next minute she wants to give Peanut a bath.