girlfiend

My mom came in on Wednesday to “help” me get ready for Thanksgiving. She said she wanted to do the dirty work so I could concentrate on cooking. I thought it would be best for her to watch the Fiendling while I cooked and Boyfiend helped with the cleaning, simply because he might not be great at cleaning, but at least he’ll do what I ask. She didn’t like that idea and said she wanted to clean and help straighten up the house. I agreed and told her that on Wednesday afternoon I need two things to happen: dusting and vacuuming. Nothing else. Everything else she should only happen after those two major tasks were done.

She asked if I needed the linens on my bed changed. I said no, just vacuuming and dusting. She played with the Fiendling for a while. I overheard her ask Boyfiend if he wanted the linens changed. He said no. I yelled up the stairs, “No mom, stay out of the bedroom.” An hour later I came up to find my bed was made (no linens changed, so at least she listened to that) and the entire room was straightened up. Things were in completely different places. I was pissed and told her that no one was going to be enjoying cocktail hour in my bedroom and to stay out. She asked what she could do to help. Should she should change the linens on the Fiendling’s bed? I told her absolutely not and reminded her that I just needed the house vacuumed and dusted.

She asked again what she could do to help. Should she should polish a silver serving platter? I said no. Vacuum. Dust. That’s it. She rearranged the laundry room. Then she folded some laundry. She asked if I had any Fabuloso, some weird purple cleanser she loves. I told her no, I clean with vinegar and baking soda. She asked if I had ammonia. I told her no, I have vinegar. At this point I realized the vacuuming and dusting would not happen if I didn’t do it myself, especially since it was getting close to Fiendling’s bedtime and I can’t run the vacuum when he’s asleep. I put the cooking on hold and vacuumed and dusted the entire downstairs. Later she asked what I was annoyed about. I ignored her and vacuumed and dusted the upstairs parlor and bathroom.

When Boyfiend was bathing the Fiendling I explained to her that she told me that she came here to help. I only wanted help with two things. She wouldn’t do either of them. Her response was that when she came here she knew what she wanted to do and that was all she planned on doing. I asked her why she didn’t just tell me that to begin with so at least I would have known what to expect and I wouldn’t have been so frustrated. She went on to tell me that obviously I needed help around the house and she was very concerned that my laundry room wasn’t clean enough because a laundry room needs to be spotless. I told her that considering how large our house is that I think I do a pretty good job of keeping it clean. It might look like people live here instead of like a page from House and Garden, but it’s still pretty damn clean. She didn’t say much else and went downstairs to set the table.

I went to put the Fiendling to sleep and asked Boyfiend to finish straightening up the parlor and finish cleaning the kitchen. He went downstairs and told me my mom had the kitchen under control. The Fiendling didn’t want to go to sleep and after an hour I reached my threshold and went to Lawmummy’s house for some adult company, leaving the baby crying at the gate in his room.

When I returned a little more than an hour later the table was mostly set for the next day and the kitchen was sort of clean. The parlor, thanks to Boyfiend’s realization that I was on the verge of killing someone, was spotless.

The following morning, Thanksgiving, after waking up at five and spending three hours trying to get the Fiendling back to bed I went back to sleep and slept too long. I woke up at 9.30 and went downstairs to start the turkey. I took a quick look at the pie recipe and realized the oven temperature was higher than I thought and I’d have to cook the pie first. I frantically looked for my peeler and couldn’t find it anywhere. I grabbed a paring knife and went to work, sadly butchering the apples. I called for Boyfiend to help me find the peeler. Eventually he found the spot where my mother had hidden it put it away. It was still dirty. She put the fucking peeler away dirty. This discovery led to the discovery of several other unwashed items that had been blatantly hidden from me put away.

Finally, after much frustration and cursing, I got the pie into the oven and Boyfiend took the Fiendling out for a few hours. My mother took a shower and took her dog (who was not invited to stay at my house, the stupid biter) for a walk. When she got back she asked what she could could do to help. At this point the pie was close to coming out of the oven and I was working on prepping the turkey. I said, “Mom, what do you want to do? What is your plan for the rest of the morning and afternoon before everyone gets here?” She said she was just going to finish up some last minute items. I said, “Mom, I would love to have your help with two things so I can take a shower, but before I even ask I need to know what’s on your agenda because I don’t want to ask you to do something and be frustrated because it’s not done when I get out of the shower.”

She was obviously furious at my response, but I thought that considering the conversation the previous night where she told me that she knew what she was going to do, and that she wasn’t going to do what I asked anyway, I thought my response was acceptable. She told me I was a spoiled little bitch who appreciated nothing. I told her that I was a spoiled little bitch who didn’t have a live-in babysitter or a housekeeper. She said, I came here last year and cleaned your entire house before Thanksgiving. I told her, no, my sister-in-law came over last year and helped clean while the baby napped then played with him while I finished cleaning. All she did was set the table. She repeated that I was a spoiled little bitch then asked what I wanted her to do.

I’d finished prepping and stuffing the turkey, the pie was out of the oven, and I was washing a few things and cleaning the counters. I told her I just needed the kitchen floor swept and mopped. She told me she’d finish wiping the counters. Boyfiend got home when I was in the shower and asked what we fought about. Before I told him I asked what she was doing downstairs. He said she was getting ready to mop so I told him about our fight. He and the Fiendling left to pick up his dad.

After my shower I went back downstairs to flip the turkey, baste it, and lower the oven temperature. My mother was giving me the cold shoulder which was fine with me. The floor looked like it had been mopped, but it still looked dirty. I looked around a bit and it became quite clear that she had mopped without sweeping. Exasperated, I swept the floor myself. I took a picture just for my own spoiled bitch satisfaction.

I was washing dishes after dinner and she approached me and told me how lovely everything was and how everyone was having a great time. She said she was sorry about our argument and I said, “I’m” and she cut me off and said, “I’m sorry I was such a fucking bitch? I accept your apology.” I didn’t say a word.

I’m lazy and double posting from my food blog.

Last night I picked up the turkey, did the grocery shopping and spent a good three and half hours in the kitchen accomplishing… Well, I don’t even know what I accomplished. It doesn’t seem like a whole lot.

I cleaned out the refrigerator and discarded all of the expired condiments. We somehow had a fridge full of salad dressings I’d never buy since I make all of my own. I guess my mother-in-law must have brought them here for some meal or another and forgotten them. I also discarded an ancient jar of mayonnaise. Mayonnaise is one of those things I won’t touch unless I’ve made it myself (well, I’ll eat some restaurant aioli, but only sometimes.)

So the refrigerator is cleaned out, the shelves are clean (except for the two drawers that I just didn’t have the energy to deal with) and some of the prep work is done.  I still need to figure out how to make the green beans and I haven’t decided if I want to make multigrain dinner rolls or buttermilk biscuits. I bought the stuff for both. I was pleased to see that the turkey (unlike the chickens I’ve bought from the farm) was pretty well cleaned. The giblets and neck were actually detached and stuffed inside the cavity and I didn’t have to scrape out any nasty, gooey innards. Nothing like fresh from the farm animal goo.

The menu:
roasted butternut squash and garlic bisque
turkey
extra stuffing (aunt bea)*
mashed potatoes (aunt bea)*
cranberry sauce (aunt bea)*
roasted potatoes (I have close to five pounds. Will people eat two kinds of white potatoes?)
candied sweet potatoes
green beans
balsamic glazed carrots
rolls or biscuits
cheesecake (mom)
apple pie
chocolate chip oatmeal pecan cookies

*I wanted to tell her no when she offered because I have 5 lbs of potatoes left over from the CSA and I make awesome mashed potatoes, but I didn’t want to offend. So she’s bringing stuff that would be easy for me to make. I’ll just try and be thankful that it’s three fewer items I have to worry about.

Completed prep:
Butternut squash and veggies roasted and pureed
Stock made for soup and stuffing
Onions and celery chopped for stuffing and gravy
Turkey ready to be brined
Giblets removed and liver discarded
Green beans trimmed
Sweet potatoes scrubbed
Refrigerator cleaned
Cookies baked

Today
1.    Prepare brine
2.    start bread dough? Biscuit dough?
3.    make pie dough
4.    make sweet potatoes
5.    blanch green beans
6.    cut herbs from the garden: thyme, chives, rosemary
7.    clean up
8.    bake bread
9.    make herb butter for turkey

Thursday:
1.    rinse and dry turkey
2.    make stuffing
3.    stuff turkey,  and start roasting
4.    start gravy
5.    assemble pie
6.    make carrots
7.    reheat sweet potatoes and bread
8.    finish green beans

I know I’m missing plenty from the lists. I have to set the table at some point and get all of my serving dishes labeled and ready to go. I don’t know if I’ll do that today or tomorrow though.

And I must go to water aerobics. I need a good splash with the old ladies.

The Fiendling and I have had two full nights of sleep in a row. I’m writing this down because jinxing it is impossible. He’s proven that he sleeps well for longish periods time then doesn’t sleep well for equally longish periods of time. It goes in stages. We might be entering a good one. Or tonight he will wake up three times and I’ll end up sleeping with him, cranky and cramped while he clutches my nose for comfort. There’s no way of knowing.

I do know I feel fairly well rested. Only fairly because I’m back to coughing in the night which sucks, but like the sleeping it will pass along with the irritating runny nose I’ve got going on. But enough about me.

The Fiendling is 20 months old and his vocabulary is out of control. He repeats the last two words of just about every sentence and has taken to talking to almost everyone, not just Boyfiend, our families and me.

He’s starting to have the cutest baby memory where he’ll actually sometimes respond when you ask him what he did on a day. He remembers places he likes and will announce where we are when we pull up in the car or the stroller. When you ask who he played with he sometimes remembers which friends he saw but he’ll usually throw in “Grandmom” whether he’s seen her or not. Yesterday he was cramming slices of cheese in his mouth after a bad wakeup from a nap. His mouth got too full and he opened his mouth and let the wet, slimy cheese fall to the floor. Phyllis the cat was thrilled and started licking it up. He said “Phyllis, chicken. Phyllis, cheese” remembering that Phyllis also enjoys eating chicken, something he hasn’t fed her for well over a week.

My mother scarred him and now everytime he sees a dog in a book with a woman he’ll say her name and her dog Stuart’s name.

He hasn’t yet lost interest in letters and continues to identify more and more of them. He stopped in front of a woman and her son carrying balloons at a bus stop the other day and we all thought he was looking at the balloons, but really he was checking out the billboard and after a few minutes he started pointing to and naming the letters. He still loves reading books and his favorites change on a rotating basis. He’s gotten to a stage where he’s able to sit still for longer stories with plots- Curious George is his current favorite- and he’s able to “read” short picture books by himself. He remembers the words and can name the pictures so I’ll often overhear, ‘brown bear, red bird, yellow duck, blue horse.”
Though the number of toddler tantrums are increasing daily, I enjoy just hanging out with him most days.  Now lets just hope he keeps sleeping.

My mom rented her apartment in the city to a pilot which means that when she’s in town she either has to stay with me or her sister. Last time she stayed with her sister. Last night she stayed with me and she’s here again tonight. I appreciate that she watches the baby while I go to the gym, but I wish she had a place of her own in the city.

I mean she makes me inexplicably angry. All of her mannerisms, her choice of language and the way she speaks, her negativity and irritating habits all just make me want to shake her. When she uses the phrase “wet my whistle” for wanting a drink, keppy(or would it be ceppy?) for head, soldiers for shoulders or nibbles for nipples I can barely contain my rage. I hate that she insists that toys and characters in books (who already have names) be renamed after the Fiendling and our family. Even more I hate that when the Fiendling calls one of his toys by his cousin’s name after her prodding she has to correct him and tell him, “No, your cousin’s hair is dark. This one is Grandmom. That one is your cousin.”

Anyway, she annoys me. And she always manages to fuck something up. I don’t know how or why or even remember if it was always this bad or if it just keeps getting worse, but it’s always something.  This time her stupid dog freaked out.

The last time he was here he growled at the Fiendling then ran away the next day. After Boyfiend found him and my mom retrieved him my mother decided that even though he was a skittish rescue dog who had run away twice and growled at her grandson he was fine and didn’t need any further training. Why did she make the decision not to hire a dog trainer? The dog started to follow her around the house, she no longer had to carry him from room to room. The dog is still terrified of everyone but her. He won’t even eat or drink like an animal, she has to hold the bowl for him while he sits on the sofa.  So crazy.

Last night when she arrived the dog growled at the Fiendling again. Later in the evening he growled at him some more. Today my mom went to the dentist while I took the Fiendling out for a nap. When I got back the dog was just sitting on the sofa. I sat with him for a while until the Fiendling woke up. When I brought the still sleepy, cuddly Fiendling inside the dog growled again. The Fiendling waved at him from across the room. The dog snapped at him. I decided the dog shouldn’t be in the room with all of the toys so I went to move him off of the couch. The stupid dog bit me (he didn’t break the skin). He growled each time I approached him so I just ignored him and kept the Fiendling away. Boyfiend got home not too long after. I explained the predicament. Boyfiend made a move to remove the dog from the couch and the dog snapped even more angrily than before and ran out of the room.

I like dogs, but I don’t like this one. I didn’t like him the first time he growled at my kid and I like him even less now. My mother (and her sister and my cousin) all have this bad habit of dragging their dogs everywhere they go. Uninvited. After she leaves tomorrow my mother’s dog is not allowed in my house.  If she’s staying here she’ll have to find another place for her dog to stay.

It’s only November and I’ve already finished my 50 books for the year. This is a huge improvement over last year when it was down to the wire.  (view item five, where I admit what I’ve been reading) I’m sure I’ll finish a few more books between now and January so I’ll post the full list then.

Does it count as watching television if the local PBS station’s (WHYY) sound doesn’t come through right and we spend the morning watching Arthur and Curious George with classical music (from WHYY fm) pumping through instead? I mean, I am cuddling on the couch watching with him.
PBS used to work just fine, but now it’s all classical all the time.  Sometimes I miss having cable. Sesame Street’s better with the regular sound. We’ve got to hook up the antenna correctly.