Life as I know it
Last night was wonderful. I put the baby to sleep in the middle of our king size bed. Then Thomas and I sat on the couch, him cheering on the Broncos, who by the way won last time, while I watched and kinda cheered, and worked on my cross stitched purse. I felt so at peace with the world, with my husband sitting next to me, and my child sleeping soundly in the next room. How can life get any better then that huh?
I worked with my mom yesterday, trying to get her house straightened out. It is such a mess, and I want to clean it so bad, but a lot of it I can’t do. I, with my mothers help, moved the couches and vacuumed under them, and then I scrubbed the kitchen floor, literally on my hands and knees. I wiped down the lower cabinets and the dishwasher and oven. Cleaned out the microwave that my father said he was going to do then never did. Picked up all the trash from the living room, did my families laundry and put the rest of Abigail’s clothes into the chest of drawers and out of the plastic drawers. Took all of Abigail’s and my stuff out of the living room, or at least all the stuff she doesn’t use of a daily basis. We moved one piece of exercise equipment from the living room into the dining room that we are converting into a gym/playroom since our moving in took my moms gym room away.
My mom thinks all I do is complain that the house is a mess, but am unwilling to do anything about it. She says as an adult I should be able to look around the house and see what needs to be done and do it. Yes, I am able, and yes I can, but all I can really do with my mothers and my sisters possessions is either throw them in their prospective rooms, or stack the stuff in front of it. You can’t get to Alex’s room or the sewing room because so much stuff is stacked in front of Alex’s room, which is spread so far you can not reach the sewing room, and the sewing room is exploded with Alex’s stuff as well. Yes, I know that Thomas and I moving in and taking the larger bed room from her gave her less space for her stuff, but even the big room was so messy you couldn’t walk in to it. Now I’m not saying I’m a clean freak, god knows I’m a slob as well, but I’m married to a clean freak and that does tend to convert ones sense of cleanliness. Besides, I want to set a good example for Abigail. I’ve offered to help both mom and Alex clean their individual bedrooms, so that we can move the stuff out of the other rooms into theirs, but so far that hasn’t happened. Not only do I want to live in a cleaner environment for all of us, but it would make momma tons happier. I just don’t know what I can do to help. I suppose I can clean the kitchen more often, I just hate doing dishes; she doesn’t have a garbage disposal and very rarely do I use dishes, but if it’ll make mom stop thinking that I’m using her and bitching all the time, I guess I can.
It’s just…urrgg! It irritates me to read that she thinks we’re using her, and that we’re unhappy, which we’re not, and that she is unhappy about supporting the whole household. She put herself in that position. She offered, begged us to move out here, offered free room and board, as long as her bills don’t go up to much. She offered, again begged to watch little Abby during the day. Yes, the month or so she’s been here she’s had to pay for a lot more then she expected, but really, what did she expect?!? I had been out of work since July, Thomas and I spent every last dime we had in Arizona trying to keep our heads above water. Then we were here for almost a month before we were getting full paychecks. Plus, we had major bills to get caught back up on. Did she want my car to get reposed? But we’re okay now, getting full paychecks, and we’ve got our bills and our food on our own. And we’ll help with whatever bill she needs, all she has to do is ask.
I can’t do anything about her unhappiness with my father and sister, but her unhappiness with my little family, that I can control, and frankly its going to bother me if she even has any.<span style
=”mso-spacerun: yes”> I want her to think the sun shines out of own asses, and that us living with her, and her getting to spend so much time with little Abby is a gift from god.
I have a real hard time with people being unhappy with me. I had a friend who said it was ass kisser syndrome. I tell my mother she must have abused me within an inch of my life when I was younger, too young to remember, but whatever it is, I have a serious issue with people being mad at me. Friends, family, husband, work, doesn’t matter what or whom, I just want people to pat me on the head and tell me I did a good job, kind of like a puppy dog. That is actually a very good description, like a puppy dog. I just want people to pet me and tell me that they love me all day long. (Yes, I know I have some issues, get off my back people!!)
I really forgot where this was supposed to be going. Instead I’m delving into all the physiological issues I have floating around in my head, and god help us when we go there. Hhhheeelllloooo……is there a physcho doctor on OD??? No, I’m kidding, I’m not that crazy. 