On My Own Again...

Well, I'm not really on my own since Mr. V is here, BUT my mother is gone and that makes my life a whole lot easier! As much as I was happy to see my mom, I was equally as happy to drive her to the airport and say goodbye to her.

My mother and I have never gotten along wonderfully. We butt heads about many, many things and she is still trying to raise me, even though I am almost 28 years old and have lived on my own since I was 18. For some reason, even though I've been living on my own for 10 years (in all fairness, 4 of those years were spent at college so I did go back to my mom's house in the summer), she STILL has some issues accepting the fact that I am capable of surviving on my own. I'm really wondering when she'll learn that I'm not going to fail at life the way she thinks I will. I can't even tell you the number of times she has told me to do something, or not do something, and then explained to me that I'll never survive in life if I don't listen to her. However, its amazing to me that she claims that I do so many things wrong, yet somehow I actually have managed to survive on my own for several years without any major problems.

Here are some examples of conversations that took place while my mom was visiting. Her words are as close to the originals as I can remember. My words are probably going to border on complete disrespect and sarcasm, but after several days of this, I lost my cool completely. I tried my hardest to be nice in response to her criticisms, but in the end, I did get a bit sarcastic with her in return.

Mom: Mr. V is really good to you.
Brooklet: Yes he is.
Mom: Well...don't you understand that he's really good to you?
Brooklet: Uhh yes. I do understand.
Mom: You should consider yourself lucky that you have someone who does everything for you.
Brooklet: He doesn't do EVERYTHING for me. I am capable of doing things on my own.
Mom: Well I see him doing a lot of things for you.
Brooklet: He does do a lot for me. But that in no way indicates that I don't do anything on my own.
Mom: (with complete bitterness in her voice) Well..I see that he does a lot for you and you need to appreciate that.
Brooke: Oh my God. I do appreciate it. What is your point?
Mom: Just that you're lucky that you have someone to take care of you. I'd hate to see what you'd be like without him.
Brooklet: Thats great mom. I lived for several years without him...remember that?

This next conversation is partly my fault. I haven't written all of our wedding thank you notes yet because I can't find my list of gifts. We got married in June 2008, and moved in July. We did a full DITY move (do it yourself move for the non-military people reading this), and between packing, finding a home, and leaving a home, we planned on writing thank yous once we got to Washington. Somewhere in the move, our notebook with our list got lost and I have been frantically searching for it since we got here and haven't had luck yet. I am very well aware of the fact that I need to get these thank you notes out, but at the same time, I am not sure what to do because I can't find the list. All I can promise is that the moment I find the list, people will be properly thanked, and given an apology for the lateness of my note. My mom isn't ok with this. We have spent MONTHS arguing about this.

Mom: You still haven't written your thank you notes.
Brooklet: No I haven't. I still can't find my list of gifts.
Mom: I didn't raise you to be rude and inconsiderate.
Brooklet: No you didn't and I am not intentionally being inconsiderate. I just can't find the list. Do we have to have this conversation for the 500th time?
Mom: I don't want you making me look bad anymore.
Brooklet: How am I making you look bad?
Mom: Because you haven't written your thank you notes yet.
Brooklet: How does that make YOU look bad? I think it makes ME look bad, which isn't your problem.
Mom: Yes it is.
Brooklet: Why is it your problem?
Mom: Because I am trying to teach you to do the right thing.
Brooklet: You have taught me to do the right thing. I CAN'T FIND MY DAMN LIST!
Mom: Well you need to stop making me look bad. I am tired of trying to raise you and you not listening to me.
Brooklet: I hate to break this to you, but you've already raised me. You are not STILL raising me. (and yes, I do understand that parents will always be parents, but my mom tends to treat me like I'm 10...all the time.)


Mom: I want to clean out your car.
Brooket: Please don't clean out my car.
Mom: But I want to.
Brooklet: Ok. well I DON'T want you to.
Mom: Well I came out here to help you.
Brooklet: I thought you came out here to see me.
Mom: I did. But I also want to help you.
Brooklet: Ok. Then if you want to help me, then let me tell you what I need help with.
Mom: You need help with your car.
Brooklet: Actually I am more concerned about getting my house put in order.
Mom: OK I'll help you with that. Then I'll clean out your car.
Brooklet: (starting to get mad) Please DO NOT clean out my car.
Mom: I don't care. Your car irritates me. I'm cleaning it out.
Brooklet: No you are NOT going to clean it out. It may be messy but I know whats in there and I don't want my stuff touched or moved around.
(This goes on for about 10 more minutes)
Mom: Fine. I won't touch your car.
The next day I woke up at 8:30 to my mom saying "I cleaned out your car. Do something with all of this crap." I then saw a pile of papers and stuff on the table. In the papers were my registration and insurance card which I obviously need to keep IN the car. When I got mad and asked her why she didn't listen to me, she told me that I'm not HER mother so she doesn't have to listen to me.

The next conversation which I'm not going write all out was the exact same thing as the car, except this time it was about my garage. After repeatedly asking her to NOT touch any of the boxes in my garage, I woke up one morning to find her opening boxes, unpacking them, and placing things around the house where SHE thought they should go. Then she yelled at me for not being completely unpacked. Then she told me I have too much stuff. Then she told me that she was exhausted from helping me. To which I replied "Its not my fault you got up at 5am to do things that I asked you over and over NOT to do."

My next problem with her involved my cats. I have 9 cats. I am very well aware of the fact that not everyone likes cats. I am VERY well aware of the fact that my mom hates cats. When she first told me she was coming out here, I told her that was fine. I also told her that she could stay at my house if she didn't criticize my life. If she was going to have a problem with the way I lived then she could stay at a hotel. She agreed to this. She agreed to this KNOWING that I have 9 cats. I promised her that I had our guest room closed off and that no cats went in there, but they had free reign of the rest of the house. She said that was fine.

Mom: There's a cat on the couch.
Brooklet: Yes there is.
Mom: I can't sit on the couch.
Brooklet: Why not?
Mom: Because there's a cat on it. It needs to move.
Brooklet: Then move him.
Mom: I'm not touching that...thing!
Brooklet: Well I'm not moving him. I already told you that they had free reign of the house and you said that was fine. Go sit on the chair instead.
Mom: I can't sit on the chair.
Brooklet: Why not?
Mom: There's cat hair on it.
Brooklet: Actually, there's not, since 30 minutes ago you insisted on vacuuming up all of the cat hair around the house. You vacuumed the chair. Therefore the chair is clean. Sit on the damn chair.
Mom: I just can't. This just creeps me out. Ugh I can't do this.
Brooklet: Then please go stay in a hotel.
Mom: I don't have extra money to spend on a hotel.
Brooklet: Well you should have thought of that when you agreed to stay in a house with cats.
Mom: *gets mad, stomps into the guest room and locks herself in there claiming that she was too disturbed to come out of that room because the cats creep her out.*


Mom: There's a cat in the litter box.
Brooklet: Umm good. They are supposed to go in the litter box.
Mom: Thats gross.
Brooklet: Actually, its pretty gross when they DON'T use the litter box so be happy that they are doing the right thing.
Mom: How can you stand that?
Brooklet: Stand WHAT?
Mom: The cats. They are creepy and gross.
Brooklet: Obviously I don't agree with you.
Mom: But...but...the litter...they pee and poop in that.
Brooklet: Yes they do.
Mom: And then they walk around the house.
Brooklet: And if you're really observant you'll see that when they climb out of the litter box, they clean their paws and their butt.
Mom: That's disgusting.
Brooklet: Yes it IS pretty gross, but I'd rather them clean their butt and their paws instead of tracking litter and poop around the house.
Mom: But then they sit on your lap, and your couch.
Brooklet: And?
Mom: ITS GROSS! *stomps away and locks herself in the guest room again."

I want to go on and on because the conversations were endless but I realize I'm going to bore people that way. Let's just say that after she cleaned my entire house to HER standards, organized my house to HER standards, and told me over and over that she doesn't like the way I live, because SHE doesn't agree with it, I am BEYOND happy that she is gone. I am perfectly fine with letting her come out here again, but there is no way she's staying at my house again.

Edited to add: I just went back and re-read this and these conversations don't sound all that bad. Trust me though, they were. Especially when I had the EXACT SAME conversations over and over and over for an entire week.