Damn this money-based society

Typepad is so anal.

They expect me to pay for this pathetic excuse of a blog EVERY month. Even when I don't post!

Ah well, they have their money  now.

And June is over.

Good riddance June. Let's see what July brings.

Pre-Summer panic attack

Every now and then I flip out about the things I think Daniel should be doing by himself by now.

He's 7 and 1/2.

Nearly 8.

Eight feels like a milestone.

Definitely NOT a little kid anymore. So I am being kind of hard on him at the moment, reminding him that he's not a three-year-old any more and that it is entirely inappropriate for me to WIPE HIS ASS.

And, I feel like I shouldn't have to fetch his snacks. They are all within his reach, and I am perfectly comfortable with him getting them himself.

I'd also like him to unload the dishwasher, and learn how to make a grilled cheese sandwich so he could make ME lunch.

Maybe I'm asking for too much with those last two, but I'm kind of panicky at the moment that I do too much for him, and that I'll ultimately stunt his independence.

Plus, I'm really lazy. Did I mention that before?

What I'm finding though is that whenever I ask him to step up and do more, he interprets it as a punishment.

Maybe it would work better if I wasn't yelling and pulling my hair out and working up to the whole martyred-drama-queen.

School is out next week. I think I need a plan. Maybe more sedatives too.

Or vodka.

Heat-addled

Yesterday the power went out just as Daniel was getting off the bus.

I don't know about the rest of your children, but my child needs electricity like fish need water. So it was a bit um, stressful? around here yesterday.

Luckily you can still watch (a few) Spongebob cartoons on a laptop even when there is no power.

And you can play with a Gameboy of DS.

And you can eat all the popsicles in the freezer.

And that's about it.

I am woefully ill-prepared for power-outages right now. I don't know where our flashlights are, and while I was scrambling around looking for them my husband said, "but we have plenty of candles - we can just light those."

"Do you know where the matches are?"

"No. But we have a gas stove. We can just light them from that."

"Sorry. The pilot light on the stove is electric. No power, no flame."

He didn't believe me. It's cute when they go check something for themselves and find out that you're right... how they don't come back and say "you were right", they do this sort of half head bob of acknowledgeable.

So we ended up our evening playing Monopoly, which as it turns out, is not made more enjoyable by being branded with Spongebob characters.

I'm not sure how people dealt with the heat before air conditioning. Which is weird, because I grew up without air conditioning. All I remember is being sprawled out on the floor in front of a fan. I guess that how people used to deal with the heat then.

And then the power came back. But the house was so hot that we ended up sleeping in the basement on the floor. Which was actually really nice if you could get past all the basement smells and the cement floor.

At least it was cool.

So cool and comfortable, that we all slept late. Waking up just in time to run to the bus... which we chose not to do.

I'm keeping Daniel home today.

Wish us luck.

Last week's adventures

I wrote this last week with the intention of posting it when I finally emerged from my post-parents zombie state. Ta-dah! I have emerged and here it is:

It's Friday.

Tomorrow my parents arrive.

Earlier this week my dad and I had a conversation via email about the dining room set bedroom set. He gave me the dimensions and I measured the room and told him to tell mom that I was sorry, but that the furniture wasn't going to fit.

He wrote back to say no problem, they'd have to figure out what to do with it, but don't worry.

It all sounds so nice and normal doesn't it?

Of course I knew that there would be fallout about this, because of the 20 years that my mother has been trying to foist this furniture on me.

I refused to call her and walk into whatever she had planned, but since they are coming tomorrow, there was no way to get around today's phone conversation.

Here it is for your enjoyment and edification:

(me) Hello?

(my mother) How are you?

Oh, fine. Tired.

Yes, ME TOO. I don't think you understand how much you have hurt us because of the bedroom set.

No I guess I don't. Why don't you explain it to me.

.....(long pause where she doesn't talk. An old trick of hers that used to make me cry.)

Is there a reason why you don't want it?

It doesn't fit in my house.

But that doesn't explain why you never took it before.

We have always lived in rentals.

I have just been so sick about this. You don't know. I'm trying to get over it, but I just don't know if I can.

....(long pause where I don't say anything, because, well, she taught me that trick)

Well, I hope it doesn't prevent you from having a nice time at my house this weekend.

I hope so too. I just  don't know. Your father and I are just so hurt by this. (This is another tactic of hers, when I don't respond to her, she brings my father into it.)

Well, I'm sorry.

You didn't think of this before?

What? Whether it would fit in the room or not? When the house was empty, I just assumed that it would fit, I honestly never thought of the fact that the room only has one wall without a door or a window. When dad gave me the measurements it was clear that it just won't fit.

Your father and I gave that bedroom set to you as a wedding present because we thought it was SPECIAL to you. That it meant something. That is why this is all just so hurtful.

Oh. I see. (ok, WTF? I checked with my husband and he doesn't remember them giving it to us for our wedding. Besides what kind of wedding gift is that? They bought it at a yard sale when I was five.)

Yes. Now you see how hard this has been. And how terrible it has been for us for all these years that you have not taken it. It just seems to me that we are growing apart. And I think you know what I mean. (This is another classic move of hers. I always used to rise to it and tell her how much I loved her and all she does for me[?])

Oh, I don't know about growing apart, I think we are just all very busy.

No, that's not it. Your family should be the most important thing to you. (And again with the thinly veiled "you don't love me")

Oh, believe me it is.

Ok... had enough? It just continues along the same lines. Very difficult for her, hurtful, so sad, been wronged, ungrateful etc.

And then, twenty minutes after we hung up, she called back. This time because she forgot to ask me about something.

Midway though her question to me she blurts out:

"Is there something we have done to upset you about the furniture?"

I just wasn't going to engage her on this, so I just said no and then talked to Daniel while she was still on the phone. I'm quite proud of my self for refusing to be sucked into her mind games and guilt-trips. I hope that this bodes well for the actual visit.

Present tense: I'm still decompressing from the visit, but I have learned a very valuable lesson. Which is: pharmaceuticals are very very good. I have a long history of self-medicating when I was around my mother, the problem was that I wasn't using the right medication.