Christmas Chicken

I had a nice reprieve from my MIL’s insanity. A whole 3 years. It was lovely while it lasted. But, the down-slide has begun, because my MIL’s Alzheimer’s is in full swing.

It’s not the official diagnosis. But I’m certain of it.

On Christmas Day, she asked 5 times when we wanted to eat dinner… in a span of 45 minutes. Each time she asked as if it was the first time it was coming up. We all played along.

This was not the first or only incident of her loss of short-term memory. That’s a whole other post. I don’t want to be cruel about it because it is a disease, but it’s hard to feel sympathy for someone that has been such a bitch for 20 years.

So, Christmas. We go to my in-law’s for dinner. It’s usually not the most festive. There’s a decorated tree and the table is set with antique china, crystal, silver and linen napkins. There might be a string of lights outside.

This year, there was a decorated tree.

That’s it.

This is notable  because Christmas is the holiday of the year. I LOVE to decorate my house with lights, garland, nutcrackers, little Christmas trees, poinsettas…it feels like Christmas. Even the music is all Christmas, all the time.

On to dinner. Christmas dinner. The holiday of the year dinner. Right?

Well, I don’t eat red meat, so when my in-laws want to serve red meat, they make chicken for me and the dog. If you don’t know what this is about, read here. I am not complaining. As a few people have pointed out, at least I’m not eating just side dishes.

For Christmas dinner, she was cooking a roast beef. So naturally, I was getting chicken. It was a very thoughtful way to make me feel included on Christmas.

But it wasn’t just any chicken. Oh no.

It was rotisserie chicken from the grocery store.

You know the kind.

It sits in its plastic container looking tasty and homemade, but we all know it’s drier than dirt.

How do I know I’m having pre-made grocery store chicken?

Because when we arrived, it was conveniently sitting on the counter in the kitchen. There was no pretending that she roasted up this chicken. How hard would it have been to put it in a roasting pan and fake it? That’s what I would have done!

So as dinner time nears, she carries my plastic-housed Christmas chicken into the den where my husband and I are sitting and asks me if I want my chicken heated.

Ummm, what?

Do I want my holiday of the year dinner HOT?!

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

I kind of laugh because I can’t fucking help myself and I can’t believe that she’s even asking, and say, “Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.”

Seriously?

Seriously???

Any other day, I swear I would not care if I was eating cold, plastic-housed, grocery-store-made chicken. But Christmas dinner?

I looked at my husband and said, “Next year, we’re hosting. THAT right there, is just ridiculous!”

After that, we set the table with their faded, everyday plates, everyday silverware, mix-matched glasses and paper napkins.

Ahhhh, fancy Christmas dinner. Welcome back to my world.

And….we’re back with the treadmill.

So after all the bullshit with the infamous treadmill, I come home tonight to find out, the “broken” one is now IN MY BASEMENT!

What the fuck, you wonder? So did I.

My husband OFFERED to take it and sell it on Craigslist because my FIL wanted it out of the house.

WHAT?!

Not only did we get manipulated into REPLACING a treadmill my children supposedly broke (but, probably didn’t (nice grandmother)), now it’s junking up my basement and we are responsible for selling it on Craigslist.

I repeat…It wasn’t enough that we GAVE her a treadmill even though SHE LIED to get it. What the FUCK?!

I love my FIL. I really do. I’m happy to help him out. But why the treadmill needs to be in MY house, I have NO IDEA. Because now it’s OUR PROBLEM.

Yeah, I’m fucking annoyed.

And now my husband’s annoyed with me, because I’m not as understanding as he’d like me to be. Um, I’m not a fucking pushover. He wanted to do my FIL a favor – didn’t we already do that? And then he has the nerve to rope me into it – I take the picture and post it on Craiglist. I know. It doesn’t take a lot of effort. I’m so hateful. But it is all associated with my MIL and the fact that she lied and manipulated my husband AND IS AN UTTER BITCH.

So my husband says, all angry, Fine, I’ll post it on Craigslist myself.

As if I’m supposed to feel bad.

Yeah, you’re right you will. I am NOT GETTING INVOLVED in this sham my MIL created.

And I want that fucking treadmill out of MY house!

Gifting a treadmill

He did it. He bought the treadmill. He didn’t tell me he did it. I had to ask. It was scheduled to be delivered a couple days before Christmas. Of course, we don’t know when it actually arrived because she didn’t call to say THANK YOU.

But, we did get to see it in all it’s glory on Christmas day. My husband had to help carry it up out of the basement, and help put it together. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to put together. It’s tiny.

While this was going on, my FIL mentioned he wanted me to take a photo of the old treadmill and create a post on Craigslist to sell it.

In walks the MIL.

Why would you sell it, it’s broken, she says.

FIL: No it’s not.

MIL: Why would you say that?

She looks at me. For empathy? I refuse to engage her. She’s a bitch.

FIL: It’s not broken.

Let’s just say she didn’t let it go. At least 4 times she questioned him wanting to know WHY he would say something like that because of course it WAS broken. He ignored her.

So now I will never allow my children in her house without me being there for fear they may “break” something else expensive.

I want a new treadmill.

I escaped a visit with the MIL yesterday. Because she wasn’t around for the hubs birthday, she wanted to see him Sunday. I prefer they come for dinner so I can avoid her while I cook in the kitchen, or even walk the dog. She decided brunch at their country club was better. It’s not. I’d have to “dress up”. I told my husband to have fun, but I wasn’t going. I simply do not need to attend every get together.

When I asked if he got their Christmas lists, he laughed and said he’d rather talk about it over cocktails. Well, now I need to know because that means his mother was her bitchy, c$%&* self. Turns out we know what she wants. I said, the treadmill?! Are you fucking kidding me?!

Of course, this comes up when I’m not around. She would NEVER be that tacky in front of me.

So the hubs asks my FIL if the girls really broke the treadmill and he can’t fix it. The FIL says, I can fix it.

The MIL admits, I want a new treadmill.

Then she reminds the hubs that he was supposed to get her a nice (read: expensive) golf club for her birthday. But he never did. He reminds her that she was supposed to pick one out and never did.

Really? We’re keeping tabs on gifts? YOU’RE A GROWN FUCKING WOMAN. Get over yourself!

So she decides that this new treadmill we’re going to get for her will be both birthday and Christmas gift.

Doesn’t this type of gift seem more appropriate from your husband? And not your only son who has his own family and bills to pay for?

While hubs SHOULD HAVE said No, and you’re fucking ridiculous! He, at least, said we weren’t upgrading it. Manual for a manual. Bitch.

I did a quick search for manual treadmills, because that’s what the girls supposedly broke, and found that most are under $200. I copied a link to one and sent it off to my husband, telling him I hoped one of these days he would tell her she’s ridiculous and say no. I also wrote this: Kind of reminds me of the time we had to buy her a $400 photo album because you forgot their 15th wedding anniversary. And the expensive do-over dinner for her milestone birthday because we didn’t do enough the first time around.

But I thought better of it and deleted it. I can only push so far when it comes to his mother. He knows she’s a crazy bitch, but she’s still his mother.

 

I really fucking hate her.

They broke it, you pay

It only takes a short time before the MIL acts like a fucking lunatic. The hubs isn’t surprised and thinks that by now I shouldn’t be either, but I am. I just don’t know anyone else like her. For instance, I chopped off about 9 inches of my hair, and she said nothing. NOT A THING. It’s kind of hard to ignore when a person makes a dramatic change like that. But she did.

Now, to be fair, I had not seen her for at least two months. She realizes that she’s been forgetting things, so I think she’s not sure if she already saw my short hair. I did have short hair about 6 years ago. But maybe she thinks she saw it over the summer and already said something and didn’t want to say something again for fear of sounding like she’s getting Alzheimer’s, which she could very well have (for real). I know that sounds convoluted. And it is. But we’re talking about the MIL. Regardless, I chopped off my hair. I got a lot of great compliments. I love it. And she’s literally the ONLY person to say NOTHING. Bitch? Yeah.

Okay, then today. On Thanksgiving. We’re visiting family, of course. And she pulls up next to the hubs saying she needs to talk to him. I hear something about the treadmill and figure she needs help moving it. So I tune her out, because this is the hubs future. Sucks for him.

I was wrong. Turns out when she watched our kids all day when they had off on Election Day, they were playing on her manual treadmill and somehow jammed it. Of course, they did. She said they would try to fix it, but if they couldn’t, would we contribute to repairing/replacing it.

WHAT?

I’m sorry. If my kids, your grandchildren, are in YOUR responsibility and they are doing something which they shouldn’t be doing because you aren’t WATCHING THEM  – and something gets broken? It’s not my responsibility to pay for it. NO FUCKING WAY

No.

And I can’t get past the fact that she actually asked – with a straight face. They are your ONLY grandchildren.

Not human this woman.

Your birthday? You plan it.

I’m going out to dinner tonight with neighbor “friends” to celebrate my 40^th birthday. Initially, I was excited about a girls’ night out. Until the planning became my problem. I’m the planner in the group. If I don’t plan it, it doesn’t happen. So when a friend brought up the idea of going out for my birthday, my one neighbor started stressing out about planning it, bombarding me with questions about where to go and who to invite, and making it clear that she doesn’t “do this”. You know, plan things.

This group of women (a mix of stay-at-home mom’s and working) generally don’t respond well on email, or to texts. THIS I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. So yesterday when my email about taking the train went unanswered, I felt a little hurt. Well, maybe more than a little. More like, what the fuck is wrong with these rude fucking people. HOW DO YOU NOT RESPOND TO AN EMAIL WITH A DIRECT QUESTION IN IT? How?! Yeah, my feelings were hurt. Especially since no one has mentioned how we were getting there and no one has suggested picking me up. I’ve been left to figure it out on my own. You know what that says to me? “We’ll plan a dinner for your birthday, but you have to get yourself there.” Yeah, not a great feeling.

Then an email came through today from one woman, one of the other neighbors offered last week to drive her. Uh, hello? Isn’t this dinner supposed to be a “birthday celebration”? I mean, what the fuck?

The restaurant itself has had horrible reviews. Do you think anyone took the time to do a little research before they picked it? If I were planning, I would have done the research, but I’m also into restaurants. These are suburban women after all. So I can overlook this.

If I was still living in the city, it would never go down this way. We’d be going to an amazing restaurant, because we would be in the know. Plus, we’d all meet up somewhere fun for pre-game drinks and we’d be taking cabs.

Maybe I’m just being selfish, or something. But right now, I’m not feeling any love. My whole night has already been ruined and it’s only 12:30 in the afternoon. I don’t even want to go. I’m also taking bets on the fact that at least one person will bail.

Just another verification that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

Feeling left out

I like to get together with friends. Which works out well because I’m also the only “organizer” I know. If I don’t organize a get together–whether it’s a cookout, a dinner, a cocktail party–then, there are no get togethers.

Usually, I don’t mind being the organizer.  I love to entertain and love having sponteous gatherings. If I run into a neighbor on a nice Friday or Saturday evening, I invite them over, “Hey come on over later, we’ll be having drinks on the porch.” They do, and we have lots of laughs.

The problem with being the only organizer I know is that I don’t get invited anywhere.

So when I hear about or see photos on Facebook of spontaneous and not so spontaneous get togethers, I feel left out.

I wonder, “Why don’t I get invited anywhere?”

I realize this sounds whiny, but it makes me feel a little insecure to think about.

Maybe who I think is my loose group of friends isn’t really my group at all.

See, insecurity’s talking.

But. I work fulltime. Two of the other woman stay at home, and one works from home. By the nature of my job, I’m automatically on the outside.

I need to stop dwelling on it. Except that I’m feeling like I need a break from it all. I’m tired of making the effort, and I feel like I’m distancing myself from these women. Maybe in hopes that they will reach out to me? I don’t know. I do know I’m needing a little reassurance, and I hate being vulnerable like that.

Your children do not make the rules

Parents, there is a birthday party etiquette. I hope you can follow along…

My neighbor is somewhat of a good friend – I say that loosely because right now I’m not a big fan of hers.

Two of her three kids are at my house at least once a week. They play together at the pool and at her house as well on a regular basis. The youngest boy plays with my older daughter, usually the Wii. The middle daughter plays with my youngest daughter, usually Barbies.

My oldest daughter was invited to the middle daughter’s birthday party.

But my youngest wasn’t.

Surely, this is a mistake. I’ve had all three of her kids at both my kids parties. They all play together.

How the hell do you NOT invite one child? Did I mention they play together?!

Are you seriously that inconsiderate?

The middle daughter told my oldest daughter that she didn’t invite my youngest. I’m not clear on why she didn’t, but I’m clear that it was intentional.

And the mother allowed this?

I know of no friction between these girls. No reason to not invite my daughter. There were only a handful of girls invited. So she can’t say there were too many people.

My oldest daughter felt sorry for her sister. She didn’t understand why she wouldn’t be invited. We kept it quiet and didn’t mention who’s party she was going to. My youngest would have been devastated to learn she wasn’t invited. Instead, I took her to the movies.

I learned that at the party, my oldest daughter asked the mom why she didn’t invite her sister. She simply said that if she invited one sibling she’d have to invite others. I understand she was trying to not hurt her feelings, but I know that’s not the real reason.

And I’m going to find out what it is. Because, parents, it’s our job to teach our children to do the right thing, even when it’s something we don’t want to do. It’s the right thing to do.

My babysitter is not for you

Having children and dealing with the bullshit that comes along with other moms is like being in high school all over again.

I hated high school bullshit.

This summer, we have a fulltime babysitter for my 9 and 7-year-old girls. I hate to call her a nanny because it sounds so pretentious. Plus, she doesn’t clean. Which she should. Yesterday, I get a text (At 9:20 in the morning. Really?) from one mom saying her daughter wanted to play with mine but she lost my nanny’s number to set up a playdate. Ok, no problem. When I got home, my sitter told me that the mom had called and then said she would be bringing her daughter over after she dropped her son at camp at 10:30. Then, she went off to work!

Are you fucking kidding me?

If you call to ask for a playdate, it is at your house.

My poor sitter was so caught off guard she didn’t know what to do. And, frankly, there was nothing she could do.

I have no problem helping someone out if they have an emergency or if something comes up. But be upfront about it. You need a favor playdate? No problem, your kid can stay as long as you need. Because I know that when I need a favor you will do the same. But to take advantage of my sitter like that is unacceptable.

What makes this situation sticky is that I like this woman. Well, I did. Most likely she will reciprocate. But still. That’s just fucking rude.

I’m not a mind reader

It really shouldn’t be that hard to communicate with people.  You have a thought, open your mouth, and speak it. Voila!  Yet somehow this function of life evades my MIL when it’s most important. Typically, I can’t get her to stop talking, but that’s when what she’s saying has nothing to do with anything. When the need to share actual relevant information comes up, she’s aloof.

For example, today she is watching the girls as our sitter wasn’t available. These arrangements were made a couple of weeks ago. As usual, the hubs communicated with her. My preference, of course.  She was to arrive promptly at 8:30 so we could catch the train. I knew that this request alone was pushing it beyond her comfort level. On a normal day, she’s not out of bed before 9 am. And 99% of the time that she is expected to be somewhere, she’s late. Needless to say, I had already succumbed to the fact that I would be catching the later train.

 Since she was going to be there all day, I assumed she would park in the back and come in through the back door. I had just opened it for her when she buzzed at the front. It was 8:20! As usual, it’s way to early for her to show any enthusiasm or general friendliness. Always a bitch. Of course, she has to feign exhaustion for the god awful hour in which she’s awake. I told her she could park in the back, but she quickly stated, “I’m not staying”.

And here we go.

Because she’s so blunt and her delivery is just downright frightening, I’m pretty sure I just looked at her dumbfounded. “Ok, um, where are you going?” I mean, that would be your natural reaction, right? She informs me that she was taking the girls back to her house. “Oh, I didn’t know,” I said. “That’s because we didn’t talk,” she said.

Apparently, I did something wrong? Again, her delivery leaves me feeling defensive.

“Well, you talked to J, right?” I asked. She says they didn’t get into it. So here we have NO COMMUNICATION.

No one knew that she planned to take the girls back to her house. Otherwise, we would have made arrangements for the dogwalker to come. I’m pretty sure she made this decision this morning when she walk up tired from her “crazy busy weekend”.

 In so many words, she shared that she has pool options at home, being that it’s going to be 130 degrees today. Plus, since she had such a crazy busy weekend (Her busy and my busy are on two different realms.), she’ll get some reprieve from my FIL when she decides to take a nap.

For fuck sake.

In any case, the fact that she was taking the girls to her house is not an issue. But how about picking up the phone and letting someone know. E was still sleeping when MIL showed up. K had just woken up. They still had to eat and get dressed. She was hoping to just grab them and go.

Communicate – it’s just not that hard.

Oh, and try to be nice about it. Just a smidge. Okay?