Febuary 10, 2007

Warning: Extreme pissing and moaning ahead, complicated by PMS.

We went to MIL house for dinner tonight. We told her that due to all the extra work we have we will be there from 4pm-6pm, no later. We get there at 3:55pm, she has decided to make baked chicken and it isn’t even out of the wrapper yet.
Fast forward one hour…
The carrots are being slowly peeled, the child is starving and I am watching the clock thinking this is not going to go well
Fast forward 30 minutes…
The child is now eating, without us. The chicken is in the oven. MIL is bitching about how we never spend anytime wuth her anymore.
Fast forward 30 more minutes…
I now have a stress headache. My ankle hurts from tapping it non-stop, and the child is trying to go to sleep while MIL insists at yelling acoss the house at FIL who is deaf. Yep, that’s helping things.
Fast forward 15 minutes…
I am now a bad mom because my daughter is spoiled into going to sleep by being rocked. I am a horrible example because I let her make a meal out of just broccoli. It perfectly healthy to let a child suck and chew on a dog’s tail. BLECH! I am picking at my food, because someone is on a no-fat, no cholesterol and apparently no-taste diet and we all must suffer food that resembles styrofoam plates. All the while about having to hear about the wonders of Beano and some sore that is draining pus on FIL leg. That’s nice…no, I don’t think I want anymore broth on my chicken now.
Fast forward to leaving the house…
“Ya’ll really need to spend more time with us, come back tomorrow and get some leftovers” *tripping over my own feet as I run like an escaped mental patient from the house, complete with arms waving over my head* Please quit cramming cotton balls in the child’s ears, it’s not that windy outside. In fact, let me have those and put some broth on it. I’ll think of you.



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