I had a hard, long weekend away from kids. It was the first weekend in ages that I have been off of kid duty and Al hasn’t been here. Because of Spring Break this year, I had about 4 weekends in a row on, then Al came, then I was on again, so last weekend there I was. Off, no lovah. To be honest, I was looking forward to the rest.
But no. No rest happened. I came back on nest duty as tired as a dog.
Stanley and I have been birdnesting since March 2011. It’s hard to believe I have been living out of a bag for 3 years. I’m actually on my 2nd bag. I had to graduate to one with wheels. This has worked primarily because my parents live in town but have a house on a lake a few hours from here where they have spent the majority of their time for the past 10 years. So, on my off nights, I go to their house here, that I lovingly call the Crash Pad, and which is usually empty. I get their mail, and water the plants, and sleep. But, since the Fall, they have spent the majority of their time here, and I have had waaay too much parent immersion. My dad got bored with it there and now has a project here consuming his time, so I’ve gone from being a squatter, to a kid again, living with my parents 50% of the time.
This past weekend I got highly frustrated, silently of course.
They have been so gracious and helpful to me. I feel like the biggest bitch on the planet complaining. So, let me be clear, I’m not complaining. I have just realized that I regress to about 14 years old several times a week.
I go in there on my off nights and mom has dinner ready. We sit at the table and talk about events and the kids and my brothers and their kids and events. Then I help her clean the kitchen and I go to my room the guest room and do my homework clinical notes or blog or surf. Sometimes I talk on the phone text to a boy before bed. I get up and she has coffee made and sometimes I eat a bowl of cereal with them, then I shower and go to school work. She tells me to text her when I get there so she will know I made it safely.
Srsly. It’s bizarre. I lived the last 30 years of my life without letting her know every time I arrived somewhere, yet somehow, here we are.
They kept me busy all weekend. Because when I’m there and they are there, I can’t rest and crash. She loves having me there I think, because she has someone to talk to (and I’m looking forward to not having to talk), and shop with (I ain’t got time or $$ to shopand then she tries to buy which makes me feel worse), she starts a project that I don’t want her to tackle alone, so I’m helping with that, they watch entirely too much Dancing With the Stars (which I never watch) and they want to discuss it. I won’t even bring up the whole politics thing again.
The whole thing is just fucking weird.
Even before I got married, I had my own house and lived alone. But, they are sooooo good to me. On Sunday, (after we went to church and lunch, yes..) she insisted I stop by the gas station so she could fill my car up since it was down to 1/2 a tank (1/2 a tank, people, apparently 1/2 a tank is nearly empty) and she didn’t want me to have to stop later. See? Sweet. Then when I was leaving I discovered she had vacuumed the inside of my car. Srsly. This morning I discovered cash she had stuck in the corner of my purse.
She is trying so hard to help me. Thank God I have her.
I love her with all my heart, she is the best mom ever.
But if we are going to continue birdnesting, I need my own apartment. Because we are regressing to something unnatural and I’m feeling icky about it. Yes, icky.
Like, I was hot the other night in the guest room but didn’t feel comfortable turning on the A/C. And, sometimes when I’m there I want another glass of wine but don’t want them to wonder if I’m drinking too much (no. I don’t drink with the kids at all, they get enough of that from Stanley, so sometimes when I’m off, I would like a second glass). Plus, it occurs to me that if she went in my purse she may go in my bag where she might encounter stuff she doesn’t want to encounter. Stuff 14 year olds have no business having (I basically just rotate in my cosmetic bag, clean clothes and undies and leave the rest, like my sex pills, and stuff I need when my lovah is in town).
My dilemma is of course financial. Birdnesting is good for the kids. They aren’t dealing with the bag. I can’t really afford an apartment. But, I may have to come up with a flop house somewhere. And lets not even get started on tax day!
Anyway, I’m thinking of my options.
Other than that, I’m cleaning up dog pee. The dog has started peeing in Stanley’s room. Possibly she gets mad at him too.
I may try that myself next time I’m mad at him.
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