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I had a fight with my mother today.
Or perhaps fight is the wrong word. I had a...thing...with my mother today. A bad thing, though it wasn't quite a fight, and it wasn't exactly a disagreement, and the words weren't numerous enough to be harsh. It was just a...thing.
When we got Will's carseat, we chose the Graco Snugride partly because it had such good safety ratings and partly because it was in two pieces, with a base that stayed in the car and a carrier that moved around. We received two bases as part of a shower gift--one for my car and one for the Husband's. My mom said, "I'll get my own base so we won't have to move anything!" We said, "Great!"
Will is nine and a half months old--no third base was ever purchased. Which has been a pain in the ass, because it's meant that we couldn't just easily move the carrier from one car to another--there's always been the issue of the base. But we've done it this far, and it hasn't been TOO big an issue, and he's about to outgrow this particular carseat anyway, so we've left it alone.
Yesterday, Will and I planned to go to the grocery store. When I got up, though, and went outside--no carseat. Mom had kept it in her car after her Will day on Tuesday and taken it to work with her.
I called her and pointed this out. "Oh well," she said to me. "Use Nolan's."*
(*Nolan's carseat--she bought an infant/toddler convertible seat when my nephew was smaller than Will so she could pick him up at daycare and spend some time with him. It's been unused and unfastened in her backseat--and then in our shed--for months. I don't like it. It's big and cumbersome with straps that are hard to work and an inferior harness system. She hasn't fastened it into her own car and used it for Will because she doesn't know how, and she's so far refused to learn. I'm not even sure she knows how to operate it anyway. Makes me feel really safe, let me tell you. But I digress)
"It's not that I can't use Nolan's," I countered, "it's just that I'd rather use his own. Next time, will you just unfasten it and leave it in the driveway? I'll take care of it from there."
"If I think of it," she said, "but to tell you the truth, I didn't even see it this morning--I was too distracted by my dentist appointment."
I let it go. It wasn't worth arguing with her about.
When she got home last night, I didn't take it out of the car. She was going to stay with Will while the Husband and I went out to dinner, and I didn't want her to have no seat. The Husband and I had a wonderful meal and talked about a lot of things, including the state of the house. We formed a united front on some things that we'd been scattered on before, especially concerning my mom's stuff and where it will live when. By the time we got home, he and I were in a good place.
We came in and chatted with Mom about her evening with Will. Everything was pleasant. We said goodnight.
I was the last one up. On my way to bed, I realized the carseat was still in her car. I had on my jammies and no shoes, and the skunk was lurking about, so I left a note on the back door that said, "CARSEAT!" and went to bed.
This morning, she left for work around 6:30. I got up at 7. No carseat.
Will and I had to drive to Weymouth today to clear an old excise tax bill of mine, or I'll end up with an unregistered car. We HAD to take the car. Grumbling, I went out at 7:00 and fastened Nolan's seat into my car. I was not happy.
At 11:30, she called the house. We've always called her before that point. Not today--I was mad, and I didn't want to have words with her while she was at work.
I called her back. She was demanding. "Why haven't you called me this morning?"
"Well, Will is taking a nap, and I was out trying to fasten in Nolan's seat."
"Oh. You haven't taken that back yet?"
It was a clipped conversation on my end, a needling one on hers. She dismissed me, saying it was all my fault and my problem, and silly of me to think she would have seen my note THAT WAS ON THE DOOR SHE EXITS THE HOUSE THROUGH. Finally she said, "What, so now you're annoyed with me so you're going to sound all poopy?"
"No, Mom, I've been annoyed with you all morning. It's not just now."
"Fine then. I don't want to talk to you."
"Fine."
She hung up in my ear.
A few minutes later, I called back. Carol, one of the other women in the office, answered. I asked her to tell my mom that, despite our conversation earlier, I thought she might want to know that her second floor has a wall. Carol relayed the message and then said, "She says thank you. But she didn't ask me to patch you through."
"I expected nothing else," I told her, and hung up.
It's ruined my whole day. I should have just not called her back.
It's stupid, our argument. Our thing. But it's borne of being in too close quarters with too much stuff. She's been on my turf for too long. She'll say things to me like, "You should go make sure the Husband is up. He's going to be late for work, and that will look really bad at his new job." And when I tell her I'm dealing with it, she looks at me like, "yes, but you're not dealing with it MY way..."
It's hard. This is MY house. But she's always been the authority figure. And the house is a mess--there's crap everywhere. Most of it's hers, because she just has nowhere to put anything. And I understand that that's hard for her. But she just keeps buying more, and that I *don't* understand. This past week, she brought 15 new bags of stuff in from Marshalls and TJ Maxx. Fifteen. And now it's all in the kitchen under the table, or in her doorway, or piled on the dining room table. And clutter begets clutter. It's too hard to keep your own things in order when there's chaos anyway.
On the initial timeframe, her house was supposed to be done by now. As it is, we're looking at at least three more months.
I'm not sure we're all going to survive.
And I hate feeling this way. I hate it. I hate being at odds with her. But I'm afraid to say anything, because starting the conversation will open the floodgates, and once they're open, there's no closing them.
And it's not like she has another place to go or anything. We're it. So we've got to find a way to make it liveable for everyone involved.
God help me find a way to do that...Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a kitchen to try to clean.
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