My mom lives with us. She kinda has to since we tore her house down and built this house in it’s place. Since we’re doing this whole new house thing without taking out loans we ran out of money and steam power to build more before we got to the garage with her apartment on top. Until we build her this magical apartment she lives with us in one of the four bedrooms that make up the bottom floor of our split level house.
She is the Queen of Veiled Insults. She always has been very good at doling them out. Like when I was in High School and those long boho skirts were kinda in style. She told me that only skinny tall girls looked good in them when I wanted to buy one and was totally clueless as to way I walked away from her in tears.
I’ve learned to just let them roll off my back as I’ve gotten older. I still catalog them in my brain (when it works) for later rants with James after the kids have gone to bed. Since I am afraid I’ll forget these two gems she lobbed my way today and I don’t think posting them on Facebook is all that wise wince it might get back to her (What? I’m Minnesotan! We’re nice in that passive aggressive roundabout sort of way!) I thought, what the hell I’ll post it on my blog!
When we met my sister in law none of us could believe this cute nice girl wanted anything to do with my brute of a brother. Twelve years later we’re still scratching our heads. I hope my brother knows how lucky he is. My mother sure as hell wishes my sister in law was her biological daughter.
My sister in law has her very tidy house and two sons who know how to put their toys away (or she puts them away for them after they go to bed). She routinely sorts through her sons’ toys and has a differently selection in this little alcove in their living room. Just enough to play with but not look like a flipping toy tornado ripped through their house.
My kids have way too many toys. Christmas was just a month ago and we clearly don’t follow that One Out One In rule that more organized people do. Instead once or twice a year I distract my kids with something else while I throw toys into two bags – donate and garbage. This works for the most part. Until I forget to hide the donate bag well enough before it can be dropped off at Goodwill and the kids find it.
Picking up while your kids are awake is especially futile when you have triplets. Instead of thinking you are fighting a losing battle you are just laying there on the battle field hemorrhaging before the first shot has been fired. By the time they go to sleep you’re too exhausted to even think about picking up toys and silently bringing them down to their room which is a minefield of little dolls and legos.
Kaboom!
My mom has managed to pick up the living room while we have been away for the past 3 weekends finishing up our other house. The sale of which will provide money for the garage and apartment (and a boat for James apparently). My house will be clean when my kids all retreat to their bedrooms because they hate us. You know, when puberty hits. The only thing that keeps Emma out of her room these days is the fact that we won’t allow her to have a computer in her bedroom.
There was something else that I am clearly lacking in in my mother’s eyes but my brain has forgotten it already. I am sure I could’ve made all sorts of funnies about it in a self deprecating way but instead I’ll make all sorts of jokes about how stupid my medication is making me. Hahaha. Oh, it’s not all that funny.
So, if you come over to my house and tell you the same story for the third time while you tip toe around MegaBloks and Polly Pockets please understand the dog ate my homework.
