While vacuuming mass amounts of dog and people hair as well as dropped paper bits and kettle corn crumbs from the carpet, I realized why the house tends to be a pigsty.
I did some heavy cleaning since Mom was at work, and one of my pet peeves is that when she sees me cleaning, she takes on the role of the overseer and I'm the slave. She just sits and watches me and points out where I missed spots, or not to forget to vacuum the border against the wall. It annoys me since she acts like I can't clean. I say, who gives a shit, as long as the job gets done. But if I don't vacuum like she wants it done, then she just gives orders. Or rather than sit there and watch, why doesn't she take the damn vacuum and do it her way? I'll get to cleaning the borders after I finish with one section. There's only one vacuum and I'm not an octopus.
So my mother was diagnosed with MS a few years ago, which causes lesions on the brain. Also, when she decided I was bipolar back when I was in the prime of adolescense, I believe she should've checked herself into treatment too.
This morning she is refusing to drive me to work, granted, I woke up 15 minutes before having to be in, but it could've saved time and much yelling if she'd mentioned this to me last night so I could have had a ride in place. So I had to scramble to call my (still new) job, and tell them I wouldn't be able to make it this morning and would hopefully be able to make it this afternoon. Luckily I work with a friend of mine who was able to go in for me this morning. But now no one is available to pick me up and drive me in this afternoon OR pick me up this evening. My mother wants me to pay rent each week to live in the house I grew up in, and that's all fine and well but if I can't make it to work I CAN'T PAY YOU RENT.
Reasoning is not an option with my mother, if she's got it stuck in her head, she's not budging. Also, she called me a liar because I told her all the dishes I'd used were put directly into the dishwasher. And lo and behold, there was a measuring cup I'd used in the sink, so she started calling me a liar.
I'll never win.
So my mother calls me to help her cancel her print job, when she realizes that it's going to be 111 pages. I miss the call but call her back as soon as my phone beeps with a voicemail.
As for a bit of background, my mother is COMPLETELY computer illiterate. She get s ahold of a friend who helps her cancel the print job after 26 pages.
When I call her back she asks me how to check her printer ink, which I try to walk her through although it's been a while since I've had a printer (at least since we moved into our apartment here in East Hartford - about 45 minutes from my mother's house in Stratford). We're clicking through the control panel, or right clicking on the printer icon near the time on the toolbar. She then starts talking to me about how she's coming up this way tomorrow morning to bring her male-friend (boyfriend - that's a whole other story) to the hospital which I'm expected to remember is for some kind of liver biopsy (at least I think that's what it was - she assumed I knew exactly what she was talking about). We're trying to make arrangements for me to get my last W2 so that I can file my taxes and get some desperately needed money.
She asks for my boyfriend's cell phone number in case she misses me before I head into work tomorrow night, or she will possibly drive up to Granby (where I work) and give it to me there. So I try to explain a bit of directions (which should be easy but of course nothing with my mother is easy considering she's one of those people that talks when you're trying to talk and although she doesn't mean anything by it I get super pissed and frustrated).
"Take 91 North to exit 40," I say.
"Okay exit 91, " She starts.
"NO! Mom - EXIT FUCKING 40 OFF I-91 NORTH"
"Oh! (bit of laughter) sorry I switched them"
(Huffing a bit) "Okay Mom, exit 40 off 91, which is route 20, this is the way you would go to get to Bradley Airport"
Then my mother goes into some little vignette about Bradley Airport and probably something about missing my little brother, which I obviously ignore.
"Okay mom, then you'll see an Exit for route 20 going towards Granby, you go straight down route 20 and don't turn until you see Salmonbrook Road, which is also known as Route 202/10."
"Oh! I think I've been up there before, I take a right at that intersection don't I?"
(This is where I give up and tell her I'm developing a headache and need to get going)
I should probably have a little more patience with her, considering I've been told that MS does this to people's brains, but seriously. I need a labotomy.
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So I just received a certified letter in the mail here at work, from my mother (whom I still live with), informing me that per our "conversation" (which was really just her saying to me, and then me saying "no") that my weekly rent was moving up from $75 a week to $175 a week. (YEA FUCKING RIGHT) She told me that she's raising it so it'll give me incentive to move out. I bet one of her idiot Tough Love friends told her to write me a letter. At the end she says, "Please handle this in an adult manner," which makes me laugh a little (and want to choke her) because SHE'S not handling this like an adult. Sending me a letter at work? What if I wasn't the person to open the mail? what if I wasn't here and the mail came in and Marnie opened it for some reason.
And I've been nothing but helpful and nice to her since she completely embarrassed me in front of chris. now chris won't go to my house if my mother is there. and when i told her that she made chris uncomfortable and how he doesn't want to come back she said "fine, i don't want him here anyway, he's not allowed to come here" which is just fine because when her idiot boyfriend comes over (whom she started seeing before my father died, and whom she still refuses to admit is her boyfriend) it'll be nice to finally make him seriously feel unwelcome.
Needless to say, I am furious.
My mom called me at two am last night, and the conversation went like this;
I think her spideysense must have been tingly.
Since the default avatar for this community is none other than the loopiest of loopy mothers (though I'd prefer to call her a plain fucking nutjob), I thought I'd link a couple of vids spotlighting two of my favorite Mommie Dearest moments.
i joined this community, &it being almost three am, a picture from mommie dearest as the loopy_mothers icon made me crack up.
problem is, i have a monroe piercing, &i had it in my teeth at the time i started laughing. so here i am, laughing&screaming "ow.. ow!" so my mom came out and said, "are you alright?!" yeah, i'm fine. "okay. i thought you were crying."
hahaha i love my mom.
there was also one incident where my mom was eating chocolate in bed&she fell asleep with a piece in her mouth. the next day, there was chocolate all over the sheets&our dogs had picked apart the comforter.
The other night, I was watching something on my parents' computer. My mother farted and the room stank so I grabbed a bottle of Febreeze and shot a squirt at my mom's bottom. I turn around and hear her gasp. Then she yells, "Why am I wet!?" Turns out, when I squirted her, she got more moisture than mist and it left a wet spot on her ass. She thought that she had pushed the fart out with enough force that she shit in her nightgown.
This community is amazing. I adore hearing stories about mothers, and sharing the ones I have. I have a whole plethora of tales involving Mommy Dearest, some more amusing than others (of course), and some that will require breif MS paint illustrations and animations to get the point of hillarity across.
Regardless, my mother is a wonderful person... albeit, absolutly insane.
The tale I'll enchant you with happened when I was around nine or ten years old.
Every Saturday night from the time I was nine to the time I was fourteen, my parents, myself and my friend, Adam, would go to my dad's friend's house for a big movie night. The parents would be downstairs watching movies, and myself and Adam would play with my dad's friend's children, Lee and Kyle. We'd come around 6pm, eat pizza, leave at about 11pm or midnight.
We were driving home, and a Pink Floyd song came on the radio. My ma is a massive Floyd fan, so while Adam and I are in the back seat, carrying on and laughing like the kids we were, my mom jerks around in the front and shouts "BE QUIET LISTEN TO THIS SONG."
Wouldn't you know it, the very next lyrics... "Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls".
She is yet to live this down. My dad still tells this tale at parties.