Hey Mom, thanks for inviting yourself to Thanksgiving. Boy, that was a fun dinner. Fun. And you're still here! Fun, fun, fun!
You know what was also fun? Your trying to work on my computer. I loved that.
Remember how you asked me before you left Boston if I had Powerpoint on my computer? Remember that I said no? Remember that conversation? Guess what, I still don't have Powerpoint, and I refuse to purchase Powerpoint. I have Powerpoint Reader, but not Powerpoint itself. Pouting about it doesn't make the program magically appear on my computer.
I hope you enjoyed the day at Starbucks working on your presentation for the doll collector club on your own laptop. (I know you don't believe me, even though I've explained this a number of times, but you do NOT NEED to be inside a Starbucks for the laptop to operate. Really. It's true. I swear. On the other hand, the fact that you're an idiot when it comes to technology did in fact relieve us all of your presence for a day. Silver lining.)
Sure, I'm happy to let you use my printer. (Yes. This is the printer you bought for me. Thank you.)
Well, you need to turn it on first. Yes, the button on the top with the circle. (Yes. This IS the printer you bought for me. Four years ago. Yes. Thank you.)
Yeah, I know the change cartridge light is on, but it starts warning you that the thing needs replacing about two seconds after you put it in the machine.
No. I don't have any extra ink cartridges. It'll be fine.
No. You have to order them from Dell.
No. I don't want to go to OfficeMax today. It's the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I refuse to go to a mall. And I've tried Office Max before -- their cartridges don't work in this machine.
No. I don't have any extra color cartridges. Here. I think I might have a black cartridge hiding somewhere. (Yes. This is the printer you bought for me. I already told you that. Yes. I like it. Yes. Thank you.)
You know, if you're having this much trouble printing, you could go down to OfficeMax and give them the file. They'll print it for you. I got all my campaign material printed at OfficeMax. No. We don't have a Staples near us. Try OfficeMax.
Yeah, the pale lines across the photos aren't from the printer. It works fine. Yes, thank you for buying it for me. Yes. Four years ago. No, the printer works fine. You've run out of ink. Yes, color ink. No. I have to order them from Dell.
Good Grief! 42 full color pages? Uh, yeah. I guess you ran me out of ink there.
(And this is where matricide was almost committed: turns out she didn't LIKE the full page one- slide-per-page format, but only realized that AFTER she had printed 42 pages of them. But she needed to have her presentation printed. So what did she do? Why she went to OfficeMax and had them print it. Alrighty then.)
So I still have to order ink. Sigh.
But she's heading home today. Wa hoo.
She pulled some other odd stunts while she was here. Standing up in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner to announce that she was done eating, she wanted pie, and could everyone start passing their plates to her so that she could clear the table. That was odd. Taking it upon herself to clean my office even when I repeatedly asked her not to, and then bullying my children into helping her while I was in the shower, and then having the nerve to get pouty when I refused to show her where the vacuum cleaner was kept so that she could finish the job. (Thin oriental on the floor of that room -- it gets sucked into the vacuum if you don't' do it just right. She can't vacuum to save her life.) That was odd too. Washing the dishes by swishing soap through them and then putting them on the counter without rinsing. That was odd too.
On the other hand, she didn't talk about My Idiot Brother, which was a relief. (He called twice while they were visiting. So Fucking Transparent.)
This morning she gets on a plane and flies off to her doll club, printouts in hand, to give a lecture on Baby Jesus dolls and religious figures. Then she flies home again. Buh-Bye, Buh-bye.
Every time she comes here I marvel again that I'm as sane as I appear to be after having been raised by her.
8 comments:
Thank you for making me realize mine wasn't the only hellish Thanksgiving.
Of course, I am suffering the fallout from the husband, whose family it was. I hate that. Go kick a dog, not me!
Is this where I make everyone hate me by pointing out I had Thanksgiving with only two other people: my husband and my three year old? And that I didn't even cook (we went to a buffet, so I guess technically I also had Thanksgiving with a hundred or so strangers). It was loooovely ;)
Sorry your mom was there to drive you crazy, Suisan.
Now I want to hear more about Megan's Thanksgiving.
Dear Butcher loves Thanksgiving.
For the past four years or so he's tried in various ways to try to help me enjoy it. It never works.
This Thanksgiving we bumped into each other in the hallway by the laundry room. (Yes. My mother brought laundry AGAIN.) I said to him, "I'm trying. I really am, but I hate this. I don't LIKE opening my house up to people who make me crazy and then spending the whole day being nice to them."
He said, "Next year we'll go to a restaurant."
Well, pick me up off the floor, dust me off, and call me Henry. I never thought those words would come out of his mouth. Something to look forward to at least.
She was in RARE form. I completely pissed her off when I asked that she stop cleaning my office. She wanted to HELP. Why didn't I APPRECIATE it?
Oy.
...i think your mom's not just odd. i'm no shrink or doctor, but your stories of her smack of mental illness to me. the repetetiveness, the strange, STRANGE behavior--like the dishes, wtf?--that nobody would do...
i'm sorry. i had to write a paper over thanksgiving break. and i thought I had a tough time. oy.
*hugs*
Neo here, being lazy.
I still feel kinda bad about helping her with the office floor. I did't mean to, I just didn't know how to say no!
Neo, please don't take responsibility for her. There IS no way to say no to her.
There's nothing wrong with cleaning the office, and she's the adult here. If I, the other adult, ask her to stop, it's not up to you, the child to get her to stop.
Want some tea? We can talk about strange behavior. I'm not angry at you, and don't feel bad for cleaning the floor. Looks better, doesn't it?
Shaina -- she is mentally ill.
When I'm away from her, I can see her behavior as coming from her illnesses (more than one), but when she's with me, it's all just too annoying.
Which is where I get to the place where I wonder how it is that I turned out OK, having been raised by someone as disturbed as she is.
You should have heard her go on about how awful Jewish people are too. My husband's Jewish, raised in an Orthodox schul, and my daughter considers herself more Jewish than Christian. It's more than awkward.
Hmmm, that's why I liquor my parents up the minute they come in the door. Helps they are lushes. My mom can still bring the mean while hammered but at least I can say something back and then duck out of her reach ;)
Thankfully I can laugh about it now but they don't stay over night. That would definitely have me in a comma.
Hope the rest of the holidays run smoother.
CindyS
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