Why Cry Over Spilled Milk?

Holy moly, this day started off horribly! It’s a good thing it got better, otherwise I probably would have run away from home.

I woke up this morning to a horrible commotion coming from upstairs. My room is in the basement, and the floors are creaky, so I sleep with a white noise machine turned up very loud (I’m an extremely light sleeper), and a fan. It sounded like someone was either stomping on the floor or dropped something heavy. Then, I heard someone yelling. Oh Lord, I did NOT want to get up to see what was going on, since I knew it was my mother and she was most likely yelling at one of the boys. Not the nicest thing to wake up to.

I got out of bed and turned off the noise machine. I heard her telling Big J to get upstairs and clean his room RIGHT NOW, followed by slamming the washing machine closed (which is right next to my room) and then the door to the laundry room. Grrrr. (Incidentally, if anyone else in the house had done these things, it would be considered atrocious).

I waited for her to go back upstairs, brushed my teeth, then ventured out to see what the hell was going on. I saw her going to her car, so I was relieved that she wasn’t in the house at this point. I went upstairs to the boys’ rooms to find out what had happened. Apparently, it was all over a gallon of milk.

We have a refrigerator in the basement as well as in the kitchen. Usually, we have a gallon of milk upstairs and a spare in the basement. Ya with me? Good. So, I guess one of the boys used the last of the milk from the kitchen, then came and got a new gallon from the basement to use. No big deal, right? That’s what they’re supposed to do. EXCEPT that there were TWO gallons in the basement fridge this time, and they grabbed the “wrong” one because it’s expiration date was later than the one behind it. So, she flew off the handle and was yelling at them because they were “wasting money.”

I ask you, how many kids would look at the expiration date on a gallon of milk? I know I wouldn’t have when I was their ages. Anyhow, she’s yelling at them and wakes up my step-dad, who basically tells her she’s overreacting BIG TIME (he’s the one person who doesn’t take any shit from her), which caused her to go off on him, then continue yelling at the boys. Fun times.

She had told them to clean their rooms, which is fine, I’m all for that. The only problem was, the three of us were supposed to meet my friend Bekki and her son at the skating rink in a few hours’ time. So, I went up and helped them sort and get trash out and put away clothes in the proper places (they are very messy kids). We got everything done and made it to the skating rink on time. The kids had a blast with Bekki’s son and she and I were able to catch up.

Last night, Mom had asked me if the two of us could spend some time together after we got home from the skating rink. I told her sure, but was curious as to why she wanted to do so. We ended up going to the little shopping center near us, where I got a $160 coat for $45. Gotta love Kohl’s. She bought a coat for Big J, and I bought a new shirt for Little J. Then she took me out to dinner.

We both ordered some sangria, which at this restaurant comes in a gi-normous glass. I told her how excited I am about the mentoring, and we talked about some teaching philosophy stuff. She met my Wonder Twin the night he came over, and asked me a little bit about him. I voluntarily told her what had happened with LS. I even told her that The Crazy One and I have been talking again. By the time we were done eating, I was completely tipsy, which was probably a good thing because the discussion turned a little serious. She told me that she thinks it’s a good idea for us to work in some time to get away, just the two of us, every once in a while. Okay, sounds good. She said she wants to know me. Okay, still good. Then, she drops the bomb. The whole reason she took me out.

Apparently, when she, the boys, and I went to Chicago in December, she got her feelings hurt pretty badly when my dad called and I talked to him for about an hour in the car on the way home. She said that she learned more about me by listening to me talk to him than she did the whole time I’ve lived her. Knowing that I had hurt her, even without realizing it, made me tear up. (DAMMIT I’ve been doing that a lot lately)!I apologized to her, and told her I heard her, and I’m glad that she told me.

So, I guess it’s gonna be a regular thing, hanging out with my mother. The funny thing is…when the two of us started therapy, I suggested that maybe she wanted to spend more time with me and she told me I misunderstood. Hmmmmm. At least I know that she’s actually LISTENING to the therapist and trying to make things better, which can only be a good thing.