Monday, March 20, 2006
And in Comes the Post-Traumatic Grandma Disorder...
Well, she's gone. Poof.

Not without the typical annoyances and frustrations. Like, she still won't eat anything I cook. To the point where, for St. Patrick's Day when I cooked a full Irish stew, she went out to buy stuff to make a salad, and served herself a sliver of corned beef, picked at it, then slipped it back onto the platter when she thought no one was watching.

That bears repeating.

Slipped it back onto the platter when she thought no one was watching. Ughhhhh, yick, yuck, gross. Apparently I have a fairly heightened sensitivity to anyone transferring anything from their own personal plates back into the serving dish. I also had the bile rise to the top of my throat when, another night, we were out to dinner and she held up her half-eaten eggplant parmesan and said, "I can't finish this, should I have it wrapped so you can?" Blaaaaaagggghhhhh.

Anyway, it was typical stuff like that. She also didn't eat the breakfast I made the next morning. Her loss. We eat in restaurants a lot when she's here.

Otherwise, there was a tangle of odd statements and half-lies and passive-aggressive attempts to start conversations, but nothing that a coughing fit and feigned deafness couldn't head off. All in all, a very run-of-the-mill mother-in-law visit, and I'm just grateful that she didn't try out any new tricks this time.

Among other activities (because the only way to keep such visits manageable is to be very scheduled), we went to a hockey game one evening. I had proof that boys and girls watch hockey differently - there was a fight, and the guy behind us was screaming, "YEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, RIP HIS HEART OUT AND FEED IT TO HIM, AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH KILL THE REF!!!" Emily sat quietly through this, and then when the instigator was released from the penalty cage she yelled, "Hey, number 7, try to be nice now, okay?!?"

So. Now we're ready to settle back into a routine. Both kids have wicked Post-Traumatic Grandma Disorder now, their sleep schedules are messed up and they're whiny and entitled and irritating. But juuuuust cute enough that I'll let them sleep inside.